CHAPTER 38
LEAH
Idon’t scream.
Not when they shove a bag over my head. Not when they wrench Clancy out of my arms. Not even when I hear him cry my name in that small, panicked voice he only uses when he’s truly scared.
I go still.
Like a trap resetting.
They think still means broken. They don’t know me.
I count steps as they drag me. Smell the antiseptic haze of recycled air. Hear the buzz of high-frequency lighting overhead. I catalog it all because it’s the only control I have—and control is survival.
The bag comes off.
They’re not subtle about it.
The light punches into my eyes like a weapon. I blink, hard. Focus.
Sterile room. Two chairs. One table. No windows. I see the vent grate in the corner. It’s rusted. That matters.
The handler sits across from me like we’re meeting for tea.
His smile is so polite it curdles in my gut.
“Miss Monroe,” he says. “Welcome back.”
I say nothing.
Not because I’m afraid, but because words are currency, and I’m not about to waste mine.
He taps a tablet.
“Your son is fine,” he says. “Cooperative. Quiet. Stronger than expected.”
I don’t breathe.
Because if I do, I’ll betray how much I want to tear out his throat with my teeth.
He tilts his head.
“You’ve taught him well. Very… controlled for a child that age.”
I let the silence stretch. Let it go taut like wire between us.
Finally, I say, “What do you want?”
He folds his hands.
“We want stability. You and Kalev are variables.”
“That’s not an answer.”
His smile doesn’t slip, but his eyes narrow. “Kalev failed to complete his assignment. That complicates things.”
“So kill me.”
