"Yes, he's alive. He staged his death. He went underground."
"Where?"
"I don't know—I swear—no one knows—he cut all ties—"
"Someone helped him."
"Yes—someone inside the Institute—someone with access to the systems—"
"Who?"
"I don't know their name—they used a code—a number—"
"What number?"
"47—I think—47 something—"
Batch 47.
My batch.
My number.
My designation.
Someone inside the Institute had helped Gabriel disappear.
Someone who knew my batch number.
Someone who might have been watching me all along.
"You're lying."
"I'm not—please—I'm telling you everything—"
The knife pressed deeper.
"Why would someone help him?"
"Because they were loyal—because they believed in his work—because they thought he was the only one who could continue the research—"
"What research?"
"The conditioning. The protocols. The methods for breaking and remaking human beings."
His voice cracked.
"He was the best. The only one who really understood how to do it. Without him, the program was worthless."
"So they hid him."
"Yes."
"And now?"
"I don't know—I've been out of the loop for months—I was let go after the Institute fell—I don't have any connections anymore—"
"You have enough connections to know he's alive."
