The storm from the night before had passed, leaving the world soaked and subdued under a steel-gray sky. Quin stepped out of her car and pulled her coat tighter against the biting chill as she approached St. Lorrence. Her breath puffed visibly in the frigid air, a reminder that the winter months were closing in.

Inside, the asylum felt even colder, the long, sterile corridors more desolate than usual. Quin made her way to the break room, hoping for warmth and the chance to gather her thoughts before beginning her rounds. But when she stepped inside, she found Sarah and two other nurses in the middle of a heated discussion.

"...I'm just saying, he shouldn't even be here anymore," one of the nurses, Angie, was saying. Her arms were crossed tightly, and her voice carried the unmistakable edge of fear. "Elias should be in a maximum-security facility, not here with the rest of us."

Sarah spotted Quin and gave her a tight, uneasy smile. "Morning, Quin. We were just-"

"Talking about Elias," Angie cut in, her tone sharp. "You spend the most time with him, don't you?"

Quin hesitated. "I... do," she admitted.

"Then you should understand why we're worried," Angie said, her voice rising slightly. "The man is dangerous. Martin's dead, for God's sake! What if you're next?"

"Angie!" Sarah snapped, but her rebuke didn't soften the words that hung in the air like a challenge.

"I appreciate your concern," Quin said carefully, though her chest felt tight. "But Elias hasn't shown any aggression toward me."

"Yet," Angie muttered.

Quin ignored the remark, her thoughts already drifting back to Room Three Hundred Seventeen. She knew the risks of working with Elias, but something in her gut told her he wasn't the monster everyone thought he was.

The East Wing was as quiet as ever, its oppressive stillness settling over Quin as she walked toward Elias's room. She passed the security guards stationed near the corridor, their tense expressions a reminder of the heightened measures in place after Martin's death.

When Quin reached Elias's door, she paused to gather herself before knocking. The weight of the previous day's conversation still lingered in her mind, but she was determined to push forward.

"Come in," Elias's voice called, muffled but calm.

She opened the door to find him seated at the small desk by the window, a blank sheet of paper in front of him. A pen lay idle in his hand, and he stared out at the dreary sky with an expression of quiet contemplation.

"Hello, Quin," he said without looking at her.

"Good morning, Elias," she replied, closing the door behind her. "What are you working on?"

He finally turned to face her, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Trying to write," he said, gesturing to the paper. "But the words aren't coming today."

"What are you writing about?"

Elias leaned back in his chair, his piercing green eyes fixed on her. "You."

Quin's heart skipped a beat. "Me?"

"You're the most interesting thing here," he said simply. "Why wouldn't I write about you?"

She didn't know how to respond. Instead, she pulled out her clipboard and focused on the routine questions she needed to ask.

"How are you feeling today?" she asked, keeping her voice steady.

"Curious," he replied, leaning forward slightly. "Why do you come back every day, Quin? Don't you ever wonder if you're wasting your time?"

"I don't think helping people is ever a waste of time," she said firmly.

"Helping people," he repeated, as though testing the phrase. "And you think you're helping me?"

"I hope I am," she admitted.

Elias studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he leaned back in his chair, his smile faint but genuine. "You're different, Quin. No one else here tries to understand me. They just see the headlines."

"Then help me understand," she said, meeting his gaze. "Tell me about yourself. About your life before St. Lorrence."

His smile faded, and for a moment, he looked almost vulnerable. "There's not much to tell," he said quietly.

"I think there is," Quin pressed gently.

Elias looked away, his jaw tightening. "My life before this place doesn't matter anymore," he said. "What matters is what happens now."

"And what do you want to happen now?"

He turned back to her, his expression softening. "I want to keep seeing you," he said simply.

The intensity of his words made her breath catch, but she forced herself to remain composed.

"You'll keep seeing me," she said, her voice steady. "As long as you're here, I'll be here too."

Elias's smile returned, but there was something darker behind it this time. "Good," he said.

Quin spent the rest of the day immersed in her rounds, but her thoughts kept drifting back to Elias. His words, his demeanor, the way he seemed to cling to her presence-it all felt like a puzzle she couldn't solve.

She found herself in the archives that afternoon, poring over old files and records in an attempt to piece together more of Elias's story. But the documents were sparse, offering only the barest details of his transfer to St. Lorrence.

The staff files mentioned his alleged crimes in passing, but the specifics were missing-either redacted or never recorded. All she had were fragments, like pieces of a shattered mirror that refused to form a clear picture.

As the hours slipped by, Quin felt a growing sense of frustration. She wanted to understand Elias, to see the man beneath the layers of mystery and fear. But every step forward seemed to lead her deeper into the unknown.

By the time her shift ended, the sky outside had darkened again, heavy clouds rolling in as another storm threatened to break. Quin walked to her car in silence, the weight of the day pressing heavily on her shoulders.

She didn't notice the figure watching her from the shadows of the East Wing window, his green eyes following her every move.

Elias Ward stood silently in the darkness, his expression unreadable as he watched Quin drive away.