Memory slams into me so hard my knees nearly buckle.
“The doctor…”
Her smile widens slightly.
“Well,” she says gently, “that’s disappointing.”
Clay moves instantly in front of me.
Protective.
Lethal.
His rifle centers directly on her chest.
“Step away from the children.”
The doctor barely glances at him.
Still watching me.
“You weren’t supposed to remember this much.”
Fear crawls slowly down my spine.
Not because of the gun.
Not because of Sentinel.
Because she sounds genuinely confused.
Like I broke something important.
Russ spreads left through the underground nursery while Lucas and Mason secure the exits.
The children stare at us from tiny beds with hollow eyes.
Some look drugged.
Others terrified.
One little girl clutches a stuffed rabbit so tightly her hands shake.
Jesus Christ.
Gabriel’s face turns murderous beside me.
“How many children are here?”
The doctor gives a small shrug.
“Temporary holding rotates constantly.”
Holding.
Not children.
Not lives.
