Chapter 165
Ellie's POV
The scream shattered the evening quiet.
I jolted upright in the waiting room chair where I'd been dozing. 8:47 PM. Jackson was already on his feet, moving toward the observation wing. Lucas stumbled after him, still groggy.
Another scream. Samantha's voice, shredding itself raw: "GET AWAY FROM ME! YOU'RE ALL MONSTERS!"
We reached the observation window in time to see a nurse backing away from Samantha's bed, hands raised defensively. Samantha stood swaying, hospital gown askew, eyes wild and unseeing.
"They're going to kill me," she sobbed. "Just like I killed—"
She lunged.
The nurse dodged, but Samantha grabbed for the medical scissors clipped to her scrubs. Two security guards burst through the door. Samantha fought with impossible strength—throwing elbows, biting, clawing. Her fingers found one guard's face, drawing blood in four parallel lines.
Lucas's hand shot out to the door handle.
Jackson caught his wrist. "Don't."
"She needs—"
"If she sees you right now, she'll remember everything." Jackson's voice was granite. "She'll remember the wolf. She'll remember you as the wolf. Is that what you want?"
Lucas's face crumpled. He slid down the wall, hands over his face, as inside the room, three medical staff finally restrained Samantha. Dr. Morrison appeared with a syringe. The sedative took effect within seconds.
Samantha's violent struggling faded to weak thrashing, then to trembling, then to nothing. Her eyes—those blue eyes that had once looked at Lucas with such calculated affection—stared sightlessly at the ceiling.
Her lips moved. I couldn't hear through the glass, but I could read them:
Wolf. Blood. Mom. I'm sorry.
Over and over. A broken record of trauma layered on trauma.
I turned away. Couldn't watch anymore.
Behind me, Lucas made a sound like a wounded animal.
Dr. Morrison found us in the hallway twenty minutes later. His expression was grave.
"I'm transferring Miss Grey to Mapleton County Mental Health Center. They have a secure ward for patients experiencing violent episodes." He looked at each of us in turn. "I need to be clear—this is no longer about drug-induced psychosis. Whatever Miss Grey experienced tonight triggered something much deeper. A complete psychotic break with possible roots in unresolved childhood trauma."
"Will she... get better?" Lucas asked hoarsely.
"With intensive therapy, medication, time... possibly. But right now, she's a danger to herself and others. The transfer will happen within the hour."
Margaret appeared at the end of the hall, pen in hand, face carved from ice. She signed the commitment papers without hesitation. When she passed our little group, she stopped.
Looked at me. At Jackson. At Lucas.
"I don't know what happened at that party," she said quietly. "I don't know what she saw, or thinks she saw. But you three had better pray she never remembers the truth."
The words landed like a curse.
We left the hospital as they were loading Samantha into the medical transport van. Strapped to a gurney, eyes empty, mouth moving in silent repetition.
Jackson drove us to his safe house in silence. Lucas sat in the back seat, staring at nothing.
Inside, the house felt too quiet. Too safe. A refuge we didn't deserve.
Lucas finally spoke. "I destroyed her."
"Caleb destroyed her," I said.
"I gave him the weapon." Lucas's voice was hollow. "If I hadn't been with her, if I hadn't lost control, if I had just walked away—"
His phone rang. He glanced at the screen and his face went gray.
"It's my mom."
Jackson's phone buzzed a second later. Miles.
I watched Jackson answer, watched his expression shift from exhausted to alert. He put the call on speaker.
"—emergency Council meeting tomorrow night," Miles was saying. "Formal charges against Caleb for violating the Concealment Doctrine. Lennox will fight it, obviously, but we have three witnesses and a hospitalized human. The Oversight Council has to intervene."
"And the girl?" Jackson asked. "Samantha?"
A pause. Then: "That's the other reason I'm calling. Some of the elders are suggesting... permanent solutions. Given what she saw, what she's saying—"
"No."
My voice cut through the room like a blade. Both men turned to stare.
"Absolutely not," I continued, meeting Jackson's eyes. "She's already insane. Committed to a psychiatric facility. Anything she says will be dismissed as delusion. She's not a threat. She's a victim."
"Ellie's right," Jackson said quietly. "We can't—"
"I'm not asking for permission." I was shaking, but my voice stayed steady. "Whatever Council decides about Caleb, fine. But Samantha Grey is off limits. Is that clear?"
Miles was silent for a long moment. Then: "I'll relay your position to the elders. Jackson, I need you here early tomorrow. We're preparing your formal statement."
The call ended.
Lucas looked at me with something like wonder. "You're protecting her. After everything she did to you."
"She's not my enemy anymore, Lucas." I sank onto the couch, suddenly exhausted beyond measure. "She's just... broken. Another person this world chewed up and spit out."
Jackson sat beside me, pulling me against his chest. "The Council will want to ensure she can never provide evidence."
"Then we make sure she doesn't." I closed my eyes. "We convince everyone—doctors, courts, her own mind—that everything she saw was hallucination. A psychotic break triggered by childhood trauma and spiked drinks."
"And if that doesn't work?"
I had no answer.
Lucas stood abruptly. "I'll do it."
We both looked at him.
"Tomorrow night. At the Council meeting." His jaw set with new determination. "I'll take full responsibility. Tell them it was my loss of control that caused this. That Samantha is my burden to bear." He met my eyes. "And I'll fight for her right to be left alone. If they want to punish someone, they punish me."
"Lucas—"
"It's the least I can do." Something had shifted in him. A fragile kind of strength born from hitting absolute bottom. "I broke her. I'll protect what's left."
After Lucas left for his dorm, I stood at the kitchen window watching the moon.
Jackson's arms wrapped around me from behind. "What are you thinking?"
"That Samantha killed her parents when she was sixteen. Maybe." I leaned back into his warmth. "Or maybe she was a terrified kid who panicked. We'll never know the truth. But I keep thinking about what drove her to that moment. What made her desperate enough to—"
"To do the unthinkable."
"Yeah." I turned to face him. "How many of us are one bad moment away from becoming monsters? How many terrible choices are made because there's no other option?"
Jackson's thumb traced my cheekbone. "You're not a monster, Ellie."
"Neither is Lucas. Or Samantha. Or even..." I hesitated. "Even Caleb, probably. We're all just trying to survive. And sometimes survival makes us do unforgivable things."
His kiss was soft. Grounding.
"The Council meets at midnight tomorrow," he murmured against my hair. "Whatever they decide about Samantha, about Caleb, about this whole mess—we face it together."
I nodded, but sleep felt impossible. Outside, the moon hung heavy and swollen. Inside, my phone buzzed with messages from Lily, Megan, half the campus wanting updates on Samantha.
I turned it off.
Some truths were too heavy to share. Some monsters too real to name.
And somewhere in a locked psychiatric ward, Samantha Grey whispered confessions to ghosts only she could see.