“That will trigger a response you won’t be able to control,” he says.
“Yeah,” I murmur. “That’s kind of the point.”
I pull him off the wall again, forcing him forward.
“Walk,” I say.
He does.
And this time?—
We’re not hiding anymore.
CHAPTER 32
HRASK
The room smells like sterilized air and bad decisions.
There’s a sharp chemical bite layered over recycled oxygen, clean in the way that tries too hard to hide everything underneath it, and the floor beneath my knees is cold enough that it seeps through fabric and into bone. The restraint at my wrists cuts deeper the more I test it, engineered tension designed to tighten when I move, and the pressure has already started to numb my fingers just enough to make fine movement harder.
“Yeah,” I mutter under my breath, rolling my shoulders slowly as I shift my weight. “That’s not ideal, but it’s not permanent either.”
Two guards stand near the door, positioned wide instead of tight, which tells me they’re confident in the setup. Their posture isn’t rigid, but it’s controlled, their attention split between me and the entry point like they’re expecting something else to happen.
“You always this talkative?” one of them asks, his voice edged with boredom more than concern.
“Only when I’m trying to figure out how bad your setup is,” I reply, lifting my head slightly to meet his gaze.
He snorts.
“You’re not getting out of here,” he says.
“Yeah,” I murmur, glancing past him toward the door panel. “That’s what everyone says right before I do.”
The other guard shifts slightly, his stance tightening just a fraction.
“Shut him up,” he mutters.
“You gonna do it,” I ask, tilting my head. “Or just keep suggesting it?”
The first one steps forward, irritation replacing boredom as he closes the distance.
“Keep talking,” he says. “See where that gets you.”
“Closer to the door,” I reply.
He swings.
I lean just enough to let it glance instead of land clean, the motion pulling against the restraint in a way that tells me exactly how much give I’ve got to work with. The tension bites deeper into my wrists, but not enough to lock them completely.
“Yeah,” I breathe quietly as he resets. “That’s usable.”
“What?” he snaps.
“Nothing,” I say, straightening slightly. “Just appreciating the craftsmanship.”
He swings again, faster this time.
