Pieces.
Punishments for individuality.
Isolation for emotional attachment.
Rewards for compliance.
And suddenly—
I remember the rooms.
White walls.
Rows of beds.
Children crying quietly after lights-out because they learned screaming only made it worse.
My stomach twists violently.
Wu built an army out of stolen childhoods.
Lucas moves toward the corridor ahead, scanning intersections.
“We need to move. More hostiles will be coming.”
He’s right.
But leaving these children standing here feels impossible.
Gabriel’s men begin handing out emergency blankets and water from their packs.
One of the younger boys recoils when a soldier gently touches his shoulder.
Like touch itself is dangerous.
Clay notices too.
And the look on his face—
pure murder.
Gabriel studies the hallway map on the terminal screen.
“There’s another sector beneath us.”
Russ turns sharply.
“How big is this place?”
Gabriel doesn’t answer immediately.
Which means the answer is bad.
Very bad.
Finally:
“Bigger than we thought.”
