I stared at the bloody roses for three hours.
Maya had called building security. They'd called the police. Two officers had come up, taken photos, asked questions I couldn't answer. Who would send me flowers? Did I have any enemies? Any angry ex-patients?
I'd given them nothing useful. Because the truth sounded insane. A billionaire with possible multiple personalities had visited me yesterday, and now someone was sending me roses covered in what looked suspiciously like human blood.
The flowers sat in Maya's trash can by the elevator. Twelve perfect red roses. Still beautiful, despite the dark stains on their petals.
"Dr. Roberts?" Maya poked her head around my office door. "Mr. Blackwood is here for his three o'clock."
My stomach did something acrobatic. "Send him in."
I'd spent the night researching dissociative identity disorder. Classic cases, treatment methods, success rates. The statistics weren't encouraging. But Alexander Blackwood wasn't a classic anything.
The door opened, and he walked in like he owned the building. Probably did, for all I knew.
"Dr. Roberts." That same smooth voice. Those same dangerous blue eyes. "Thank you for fitting me into your schedule."
Today he wore navy instead of charcoal. Same perfect tailoring. Same predatory grace. But something felt different. The way he held his shoulders. The slight tension around his eyes.
"Please, sit." I gestured to the leather chair across from my desk.
He didn't argue this time. Just settled into the chair like he belonged there. Crossed his legs. Folded his hands in his lap. Perfect posture.
"How are you feeling today, Mr. Blackwood?"
"Alexander." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "And I'm... tired."
I clicked my pen. "Did you sleep well?"
"I don't remember sleeping." He touched that scar on his neck again. "I remember going to bed around eleven. Next thing I knew, it was morning, and I was standing in my kitchen. Still in yesterday's clothes."
"What was in the kitchen?"
His hand stilled. "Excuse me?"
"You said you woke up in your kitchen. Was there anything unusual? Anything that suggested what you might have been doing?"
A pause. Too long. "No. Nothing unusual."
Lie. I'd been reading people for too long not to recognize one.
"Alexander, I need you to understand something." I set down my pen and leaned forward. "This is a safe space. Whatever you tell me stays between us. But I can only help you if you're honest with me."
"I am being honest."
"Are you?"
Another pause. Longer this time. He was weighing something. Deciding how much truth to give me.
"There was blood," he said finally. "In the sink. Under my fingernails."
The air in the room seemed to shift. Thicken.
"Your blood?"
"I don't know." His voice was barely above a whisper. "I don't remember getting hurt."
My mouth went dry. The roses. The blood on the roses.
"Alexander, did you send me flowers yesterday?"
His head snapped up. Those blue eyes locked onto mine, and I saw something flicker there. Confusion. Then something else. Something that made my pulse spike.
"Flowers?" His voice changed. Just slightly. But enough that I noticed.
"Red roses. Someone left them at my office. No card."
He blinked. Slow. Deliberate. When he opened his eyes again, something fundamental had shifted.
"Red roses are beautiful." Not Alexander's voice anymore. Younger. Rougher around the edges. "Don't you think so, Doc?"
I kept my expression neutral, but my heart started hammering. This was it. This was what I'd been reading about. A personality switch happening right in front of me.
"Who am I speaking with?"
He laughed. Sharp and bitter. "Alexander didn't tell you about us? Typical. Guy's got no balls."
The word 'us' hung in the air like a threat.
"What's your name?"
"Ryan." He slouched in the chair, legs spread wide. Everything about his posture had changed. Looser. More aggressive. "And I gotta say, Doc, you're prettier than I expected."
Warning bells went off in my head. This personality felt dangerous in a way Alexander didn't.
"How old are you, Ryan?"
"Old enough." He grinned, and it wasn't nice. "Wanna find out?"
I reached for my pen. Slowly. Carefully. "Ryan, I'd like to learn more about you. About how long you've been around."
"Fuck that." He stood up fast. Too fast. The movement was violent, predatory. "I'm tired of being analyzed. Poked. Prodded. You shrinks are all the same."
"Ryan—"
"Don't." He slammed his hand on my desk. The sound cracked through the room like a gunshot. My coffee mug jumped, spilling Earl Grey across my notes.
I didn't flinch. Couldn't. Not if I wanted to maintain control.
"You're angry," I said calmly.
"You think?" He started pacing. Back and forth in front of my desk like a caged animal. "Seventeen years I've been stuck in this head. Seventeen years of listening to Alexander whine about his perfect life. His perfect job. His perfect everything."
"That must be frustrating."
"You have no idea." He stopped pacing. Turned to face me. Something wild flickered in his eyes. "You know what I do when I'm frustrated, Doc?"
My mouth went dry. "What do you do, Ryan?"
"I break things."
He moved fast. Faster than I expected. One second he was by the window, the next he was around my desk, backing me against the wall.
"Ryan, you need to step back."
"Or what?" His face was inches from mine. I could smell his aftershave. Different from Alexander's. Sharper. More aggressive. "You gonna call security? Gonna have me locked up?"
"I'm going to ask you to respect my boundaries."
He laughed. The sound sent chills down my spine.
"Boundaries. Right." His hand came up to touch my face. "You know what Alexander thinks about at night? About your boundaries?"
I caught his wrist. Firm but not aggressive. "Ryan, this behavior isn't acceptable."
"Isn't it?" His fingers traced down my cheek. "You like the danger, don't you, Doc? That's why you said yes to him. Not because you want to help. Because you like playing with fire."
There was truth in what he said. Enough truth to make me uncomfortable.
"You're projecting," I said.
"Am I?" His thumb brushed across my lower lip. "Your pulse is racing. Your pupils are dilated. Classic signs of arousal."
"Or fear."
"Same thing, sometimes."
He leaned closer. So close I could feel his breath on my face. Hot. Dangerous.
"Ryan." My voice came out steadier than I felt. "I need you to step back. Now."
"Make me."
That's when everything changed.
Alexander's body went rigid. Every muscle locked up like he'd been hit with electricity. His eyes rolled back, showing white.
Then he collapsed.
I caught him as he fell, his weight dragging us both to the floor. For a second, I thought he was having a seizure. But then his eyes snapped open.
Different eyes. Same blue color, but everything else had changed. Older. Calmer. Infinitely more dangerous.
"I apologize for Ryan's behavior." This voice was deeper than both Alexander's and Ryan's. Controlled. Military-precise. "He forgets his manners."
The man looking at me from Alexander's face was a complete stranger.
"Who are you?"
"Gabriel." He sat up slowly, carefully. Like he was aware of every inch of his body. "I'm sorry you had to see that."
"See what?"
"The transition. It's not pleasant to watch." He stood and offered me his hand. I took it without thinking. His grip was strong. Steady. "Are you hurt?"
"No, I'm... I'm fine."
"Good." He helped me to my feet, then stepped back. Respectful distance. Everything Ryan hadn't been. "Ryan won't bother you again today."
"Where is he?"
"Contained." Gabriel straightened his jacket, smoothed his hair. When he was done, he looked like Alexander again. But the way he held himself was different. Soldier-straight. Alert. "And Alexander?"
"Resting. This kind of switch takes a toll on the body."
I picked up my pen from where it had fallen. My hands were shaking. "How many of you are there?"
Gabriel's smile was sharp as a blade. "Enough."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only answer you're getting today." He moved toward the door, then paused. "Dr. Roberts?"
"Yes?"
"You did well. Ryan's been known to break things when he gets agitated. People, sometimes."
A chill ran down my spine. "Are you threatening me?"
"I'm protecting you." His eyes met mine. Cold. Calculating. "There are others who won't be as restrained as I am. Others who might not appreciate your... interference."
"Interference?"
"You want to fix us." He tilted his head, studying me like I was a puzzle. "That's admirable. But some things are better left broken."
"I don't believe that."
"You will." He opened the door, then looked back over his shoulder. "Same time tomorrow, Dr. Roberts?"
I should say no. Every rational part of my brain was screaming at me to refer this case to someone else. Someone with more experience. Someone who wouldn't be personally affected by a patient.
"Yes," I heard myself say.
Gabriel smiled. Not nice. Not comforting. Like a predator acknowledging prey that had just walked into its den.
"Excellent. Oh, and Dr. Roberts?"
"What?"
"Next time Ryan sends you flowers, don't touch them. You never know where his hands have been."
The door closed behind him with a soft click.
I sank into my chair, my legs suddenly unable to support me. My hands were shaking so hard I could barely hold my pen.
Three personalities. Alexander, Ryan, and Gabriel. And Gabriel had implied there were others. Others who might be even more dangerous.
I looked at my appointment book. Alexander Blackwood, 3:00 PM tomorrow. The ink looked innocent enough on the page.
But nothing about this case was innocent.
My phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.
You taste like Earl Grey and fear. Sweet dreams, Doc. -R
I dropped the phone like it had caught fire.
Ryan somehow had my number. Which meant he'd been awake during Gabriel's conversation with me. Listening. Watching.
Learning.
I locked my office door and pulled the blinds closed. Then I sat in the dark, trying to convince myself I wasn't in over my head.
I was failing miserably.