I begin to lose the battle with my own mind. I hallucinate that I am back in the vat. I see the green surface rising, millimeters from my lips. I feel the heat. I see Deimos standing over me, his face a mask of cold indifference.
Why? The question loops in my brain until it loses all meaning. Why did he leave me here? Why didn't he just finish it? Leaving me in the dark is a more precise cruelty. He didn't just want to kill me; he wanted me to experience the same void he grew up in. He wanted me to understand what it feels like to be a discarded child.
"Mali..." I whimper again.
The memory of her voice over the speaker is a jagged blade in my heart. “She is a liability, Deimos.” The words echo in the darkness, louder than the dripping water. Did she mean it? Or was it a part of a plan I didn’t know about? He thought that my only anchor to humanity has cut the rope is what finally starts to break me.
I am dissolving. Not in acid, but in the silence.
The drip of the water speeds up in my mind. It sounds like a clock ticking down to zero. I start to laugh. A thin, hysterical sound that turns into a cough. The movement tears burn on my chin, and I taste blood and copper.
I close my eyes, even though it makes no difference in this pitch-black tomb. I pray for the end. I pray for the silence to finally become absolute. I give up on the rescue. I give up on Madeline. I give up on the brother who hates me for the crime of simply existing.
I am ready to slip away, my head lolling to the side against the cold metal, when a vibration shudders through the floor.
It is faint at first. A rhythmic thud. A grinding of heavy gears. I don't dare to hope. I assume it is just the final hallucination of my exhausted brain. But then, a sliver of gray light appears at the far end of the tunnel. It widens.
"Lucy? Lucy!"
It's a voice. A man's voice. But it isn't Deimos. It is deeper, more resonant, and carries a weight of authority that cuts through my delirium.
A flashlight strikes me. The beam is so bright it feels like an attack. I scream, a raw, animalistic sound, and try to shrink away, but the zip-ties hold me fast.
"I found her! Get the medics down here! Now!"
The boots approach. They are heavy, confident. I am being surrounded. The light is everywhere now, blinding and white. I feel the cold snap of shears as the zip-ties are cut. My hands fall limp, the blood rushing back into them with a needles-and-pins agony that makes me howl.
"Easy, Lucy. You're safe. Your dad is here."
The figure leans into the light. I stare up at him, my vision blurring with tears and shock. I know that face. I have seen it in the shadows of my own research, in the nightmares Deimos whispered about. But most importantly, I saw this face when I was a little girl. The silver hair. The analytical eyes. The man who started the fire is the one who is pulling me out of it.
"Charles..." I whisper, the recognition hitting me with the force of a tidal wave. I am his daughter. I am his blood. But as he leans down, I don't feel rescued. I feel claimed.
Footsteps scramble down the concrete stairs, frantic and uneven.
"Lucy! Oh god, Lucy!"
Madeline bursts into the light, her face a mask of salt and grief. She doesn't even acknowledge the tactical team or the sleek, expensive silhouette of Charles standing over me. She lungespast him, her knees hitting the damp floor with a bone-jarring thud. She grabs my shoulders, her hands shaking so violently I can feel the tremors in my own chest.
"I'm sorry, Lu!"
She sobs, the words pouring out of her like an opened vein.
"The things I said... over the speaker... I didn't mean them! I had to say it. I had to make him believe I was on his side so I could save you."
I stare at her, my vision swimming. My brain is still half-trapped in the silence, and the sudden warmth of her touch is overwhelming.
"Mali..." I croak, the skin on my chin cracking as I speak.
"I sent him away, Lucy," she whispers, pulling me into a desperate embrace, her tears wetting the collar of my shirt.
"He's gone. I sent Deimos to prison. I called the detective. He’s behind bars where he can’t ever touch you again. I betrayed him for you. Please... please tell me you’re okay."
I stiffen in her arms. My eyes flicker upward, past Madeline’s sobbing form, to the man standing behind her. Charles is watching us. He is perfectly still, his hands folded in front of him. He doesn't look like a worried father. He looks like a collector who just watched two of his most precious pieces fall right into his display case.
When he hears Madeline say she sent Deimos to prison, a tiny, almost imperceptible spark ignites in his cold blue eyes. It isn't a relief. It is a triumph.
"You did the right thing, Madeline," Charles says, his voice smooth as silk. He reaches down and places a hand on Madeline’s shoulder, a gesture that looks supportive but feels dangerous.
