Clay catches my arm instantly.
“Hannah.”
His voice sounds far away.
Muffled beneath the roaring suddenly filling my ears.
Now the red emergency lights pulse along the tunnel walls.
Flash.
Darkness.
Flash.
Darkness.
And with every pulse—memories hit harder.
Cold metal restraints.
Bright white lights.
Voices behind glass.
Pain.
Always pain.
“How does she still remember after sedation?”
“She adapts faster than the others.”
“She’s remarkable.”
I stagger backward.
Clay grabs both my shoulders before I fall.
“Hannah. Look at me.”
I can’t breathe.
Oh God.
I can’t breathe.
The voice comes again through the tunnel speakers.
“You always were exceptional under stress.”
My knees nearly buckle.
Russ moves closer slowly, weapon still raised toward the darkness ahead.
“Talk to me,” he says carefully.
But I can’t.
