“You were starving when we found you,” Wu says softly. “You had already stopped speaking.”
A sharp ache rips through my chest.
Because part of me remembers that.
Darkness.
Cold.
Being alone.
Waiting for someone who never came back.
Wu takes another step forward.
“We gave you safety.”
Clay moves instantly between us again.
“No. You gave her trauma.”
Wu’s eyes sharpen slightly.
“And yet she survived.”
“Barely.”
That word echoes.
Barely.
Something shifts in Wu’s expression then.
Something colder.
More dangerous.
“You think survival without sacrifice exists?” he asks quietly. “Ask your governments how many children vanish during covert conflicts every year. Ask intelligence agencies how many gifted minds are discarded because no system exists to contain them safely.”
“Contain,” Clay repeats darkly. “There’s that word again.”
Wu ignores him.
“Hannah was extraordinary. She still is.”
“I’m not yours,” I whisper.
His gaze returns to me immediately.
“No,” he says softly.
And somehow that’s worse.
Because he actually sounds sincere.
“You outgrew ownership years ago.”
My stomach twists.
