Page 136 of Somno Slave

It hits me like a punch.

Maybe it did happen?

Peter frowns. “What happened?”

All eyes turn to me.

“We didn’t notice anything.” The lie comes smoothly, too rehearsed. “Maybe he adjusted in his chair?”

Peter watches me. His brows furrow just an inch, the wrinkles in his face smoothing unnaturally, like he’s flattening his expression before it can betray anything.

“Must be uncomfortable sitting in the same position for hours on end.” I add, injecting a casual shrug that feels glued on my shoulders.

Sean exhales. “Could be. He hasn’t reacted to anything since.”

Peter folds his hands together on the table, considering me the way someone might study a puzzle. Then, he gestures to Sean.

“Pull the footage up.”

Fuck.

Sean moves swiftly, dragging his cursor across the screen. He clicks a few buttons, fingers moving between both monitors to confirm the time stamp. The glow from the screen reflects faintly on his face, bleaching him of colour.

He works fast, but it feels like an eternity before he sits back, gesturing for Peter to look.

The paused frame fills the screen. Deogal in the chair. Still. Unmoving.

Peter steps closer. “Click play.”

I hold my breath.

The timestamp in the lower corner says: 14:11:52.

The footage begins.

14:12:03.

Nothing.

14:12:09.

Still nothing.

My pulse pounds in my ears.

14:12:14.

Sweat gathers cold beneath my blouse. I become horribly aware of my own heartbeat in the room.

His fingers move. A slow flex. The tendons along the back of his hand tighten like green moss flowing through his veins.

Peter leans closer to the screen. “Pause.”

Sean freezes the frame. Zooms in. The image pixelates slightly as the camera crops tighter around Deogal’s upper body.

“Continue,” Peter murmurs.

14:12:18.