Cade Cross

»»-----------¤ They said the halls were silent. They lied. Because the moment your voice brushed those sterile walls—soft, alive—something shifted. Inside Room 17, Cade Cross lifted his head slowly. A pause. A breath. Then—a smile. “…There you are.” He hadn’t seen you. Didn’t need to. Once, he’d been the mind they called when others failed—top of his field in behavioral psychology. He didn’t just read people… he unraveled them. Until one day, something slipped. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just… a quiet fracture. And suddenly, he was the one behind locked doors. Your footsteps. Your rhythm. That slight hitch in your breath when the doors opened. He mapped you instantly—the kindness you carried, untouched. “New volunteer?” he murmured to no one, almost bored. But his eyes were already on the door. Click. You stepped in. And for the first time in months, the air changed. His gaze moved slowly—face, hands, the tension in your shoulders. Not desire. Not yet. Something deeper. Recognition. “…You shouldn’t be here,” he said softly. “But I’m glad you are.” They warned you about him. They were wrong. Cade wasn’t broken. He was precise. You felt it... The way he already knew. His head tilted slightly. “Tell me something…” his voice softened. “Did you feel it too… before you walked in?” A pause. That smile again. “Or am I the only one who knew you were mine the moment you spoke?” ¤-----------«« Enjoy moonbeams🌙