“You’ve had a long trip,” Elliot murmurs. “It’s best to get you settled.”
Knox steps to my left, and Asher steps to my right. Sophie walks just ahead of us. Elliot leads the way through the hall at a comfortable pace, as if this is a tour instead of a transfer. I follow because the restraints give me no other choice.
“I want you to feel comfortable here. If you follow the routine, everything will run smoothly.”
Nothing in his tone reveals what Grant warned him about. Nothing in his expression shows anything violent. But something in him doesn’t sit right, and I can’t ignore it.
The guard opens the door and guides me inside. The room looks nothing like a cell. The walls are painted a soft neutral color. There's a large window with curtains pulled open to show the courtyard lights below. A small dresser stands against the wall. A matching desk sits in the corner with a bottle of water already placed on top. A rug covers most of the floor. The lighting is soft and warm. The bed looks comfortable with a thick blanket and two pillows arranged neatly at the headboard. Everything looks expensive and neat.
That makes me more nervous.
The guard comes behind me and cuts the restraints. I rub at my wrists with numb, clumsy hands, trying to soothe the sting. It only makes the bruisesflare. My limbs feel both too light and too heavy, shaky in a way that makes me furious.
The door locks behind them. I sit on the bed and keep my hands in my lap. My mind spins. I last about ten seconds before the tears come.
I press my palm to my mouth, but the sob pushes through anyway. My chest aches. My throat tightens. I fold over and cry into the blanket. Everything hits at once. The terror. The confusion. The ride here. The restraints. John’s words. Mary’s. The Collective. Grant. Elliot. All of it.
But nothing hits harder than the thought of Seth.
I cry until my eyes burn. I cry until my head throbs. I hold my stomach because the pain there scares me. I think about the life that Seth and I created. I think about him never being able to meet our child. I think about him dying in that ballroom.
If he is dead, I have nothing left to lose.
That breaks me again. I curl on the bed with the blanket clutched in my hands. The room stays silent. The walls give me no sound, no hint of anything outside. Time drags. My body shakes. My breathing keeps slipping out of control. I try to slow it, but the grief stays heavy. My chest hurts. My stomach tightens in waves.
Hours pass like minutes. I barely move. When the knock finally comes, it startles me so badly I almost fall off the bed.
I wipe my face with the blanket. “Yes,” I whisper.
The door opens. Sophie stands there with a fitted red silk dress folded neatly in her arms. Her expression looks friendly at first glance, but something in her eyes doesn’t match it.
“It’s time for dinner.”
My voice barely works. “I need a minute.”
“You don’t have a minute.” She interjects. “You need to change.”
I stand slowly. My legs feel weak. My face is still wet, but Sophie acts like she doesn’t notice. She hands me the red silk dress. I change with her waiting inside the room. She watches without discomfort. She watches like it's routine.
When I finish, she steps back and looks me over. “Good. Come with me.”
Asher and Knox stand outside the door. Asher gestures for me to walk ahead of him. Knox gives me a calm nod, as if this is normal.
We walk to the dining room. The table is long. The plates are set. The lighting is warm. Elliot sits at the head of the table with a small smile that looks practiced.
“Brooke, join us.”
I sit slowly. Sophie sits beside me. Knox sits on my other side. Asher takes the seat across. Elliot raises his hand slightly, and a servant enters with a tray of steaming food. He places plates in front of us with quiet movements. Roasted chicken. Vegetables. Bread. Water. My body reacts before my mind does. My stomach cramps with hunger.
Elliot notices. “Eat, Brooke. You need it.”
I pick up the fork. My hands still tremble, but I eat. My body pulls everything in fast. I try to slow myself, but hunger takes over. I breathe through the tightness in my chest and keep going.
Sophie pours water into my glass.
Knox leans back in his chair and takes a sip from his cup. “We were just talking earlier about tomorrow’s schedule. Breakfast at seven. Tasks at eight. Outside work if the weather stays clear.”
Asher nods. “If not, indoor rotation.”
