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Summary
Detective Mike Wheeler believes in order. He believes every story has a shape and that his job is to find it before it collapses into something unmanageable. The city is hungry for something to blame, and Will fits cleanly into the outline they’ve drawn. But every time Mike sits across from him, something fractures.
Will is polite, soft-spoken, almost painfully gentle. He says he doesn’t remember everything. Says it feels like something standing behind him, choosing when he doesn’t. Mike tells himself it’s trauma. Delusion. Manipulation. He tells himself he’s immune to that kind of influence. But the deeper he digs, the more the case rearranges itself around him.
There are rooms he wasn’t meant to enter, men in masks who decide which monsters are useful, a narrative already written by people who never have to answer for the bodies. And somewhere between interrogation and confession, Mike begins to realise that Will isn’t the only one being rewritten.
Possession doesn’t always look violent. Sometimes it feels like someone finally understanding you. Sometimes it feels like relief. And under Will’s influence, Mike feels himself starting loose control— physically and emotionally.