And every single one carrying weapons.
Oh my God.
Gabriel whispers:
“Wu turned them into soldiers.”
The teenagers stop about thirty feet away.
Not speaking.
Not threatening.
Just standing there watching us.
Watching me.
Then one of the girls tilts her head slightly.
Recognition flickers across her face.
“You survived.”
My blood runs cold.
Because I know her.
Not her name.
Not fully.
But pieces.
Training sessions.
Isolation rooms.
Children disappearing after failed evaluations.
And suddenly—
I remember her screaming once.
Not from pain.
From grief.
The girl lifts her rifle slowly.
Not aiming yet.
Just holding it.
“You shouldn’t have come back.”
Clay steps slightly in front of me instantly.
Protective.
