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Sincere simply smiled, an expression that was all teeth and no warmth.
It went on like that for minutes— hours— an eternity until finally someone knocked on the container’s door and Sincere stepped back, panting with elation or exhaustion, Cal couldn’t tell which one.
Hopeful stepped in and scanned the scene without a flicker of emotion. “Anything?”
“He’s strong, I’ll give him that,” Sincere chuckled, wiping off sweat from his forehead like he’d just finished a satisfying workout. But his eyes were wild, manic with a sense of power that made Cal’s stomach roll with disgust.
Pierce was no longer convulsing; he was barely conscious, sagging against the restraints like a puppet with its strings cut. His breaths came out in ragged gasps, sweat coating his face and matting his dark hair into inky spikes. Blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth.
“So you’ve gotten nothing useful?” Hopeful stared with those icy gray eyes that held a deep well of nothing. His gaze was dismissive like he was seeing something not worthy of his time. “Time is running out. Your Mother God needs answers before The Great Renewal arrives.”
“Then perhaps we should change our focus,” Sincere replied, moving towards Cal.
Fear wrapped icy fingers around Cal’s spine, but he held his ground. “I don’t know where Ellie is,” he repeated for the hundredth time, the words forming a cold, hard knot in his throat.
God, he hoped she was safe.
Hopeful seemed to study him for a long, cold minute before finally turning his attention back to Sincere. “Leave him,” he said finally. “We have other priorities now, and we need to prepare.”
As Sincere moved back to shut down the machine, a fever-bright, fanatical gleam appeared in his eyes. Why hadn’t he seen that before? It was impossible to miss.
Despite himself, Cal exhaled in relief when the humming stopped. He watched as Hopeful turned to leave the chamber, his robe billowing behind him like some goddamn messiah in a B-rated movie and Sincere on his heels. He waited a few minutes to ensure they were gone before climbing to his feet and walking as close to Pierce as his chains would allow.
“Pierce? Jesus. I’m so sorry. Talk to me.” The moment the words were out of his mouth, he realized how stupid they were. Pierce couldn’t talk. “Give me some kind of sign you’re okay.”
Pierce’s eyes flicked open. “Not... your… fault,” he mouthed, each word a struggle.
His voice was like glass-spiked shards of gravel and sounded so painful that Cal winced in symphony. “Don’t talk, man.”
Pierce’s eyes narrowed in silent defiance before the lids drooped, the effort visibly draining him. A moment later, he slumped forward against his restraints, unconscious.
“Fuck!” Cal pulled on his chains, but it was useless. He couldn’t get closer to Pierce, couldn’t help him. Frustration and helplessness strangled him, and he vented it with a furious yank on the chain. The shackles bit into his wrists but he relished the pain. Anything was better than the icy fear twisting his gut.
He’d always believed that everyone deserved a fair chance, a chance to be heard, to tell their side of the story. He’d wholeheartedly thought everyone deserved to have someone on their side.
But now?
Fuck that.
Hopeful and Sincere and all the rest of those deranged lunatics playing god didn’t deserve a damn thing. Except maybe a first-class ticket straight to hell.
Minutes passed like hours. Or maybe it was actually hours? Time had lost all meaning and Pierce hadn’t so much as twitched.
The silence was oppressive, a tomb-like stillness that soaked into Cal’s bones and messed with his head. He tried to fight the sleepiness creeping in, but it was a losing battle.
Finally, the door creaked open again, startling him awake. His heart lodged in his throat as he prepared for another round of Sincere’s twisted games, but instead of the psychopath, it was a girl in a white robe, her silhouette outlined in gold by the rising sun.
Like an angel.
Cal blinked, not entirely sure he could trust what he was seeing. “Hello?” His voice was hoarse.
The girl tilted her head and stared at him with an intensity that had him shifting uncomfortably. She was a small thing. Young, with pale blue-green eyes too old for her age. Her dark hair curled around her heart-shaped face.
She moved forward and Cal tensed, expecting more pain. But instead, she passed him and moved towards Pierce.
She reached out with pale hands to touch Pierce’s face, her fingers tracing his sweat-dampened skin with surprising gentleness.
And the pieces finally clicked into place in his sluggish brain. “You’re True, aren’t you? You called me for help.”
