Mia stood frozen beside me, her whole body trembling. Not the fine tremors from before but full-body shudders that started in her chest and radiated outward.
Thunder rolled across the mountains again. Lightning flickered in the darkening clouds, and I made my decision.
“Come on.” I wrapped my arm around her shoulders, guiding her toward our cabin. “Let’s get inside.”
She moved like a sleepwalker, feet stumbling over the uneven ground. Her breathing had gone ragged, each inhale sharp and shallow. Three days of accumulated terror—the claustrophobia, the cameras, the constant performance, being tracked like ananimal—it had finally broken through her last defenses, and she was coming apart.
Nothing was going to stop that now. But I could give her a safe place to crash.
We made it to the cabin just as the sky opened up. Rain hammered the tin roof like gunfire, drowning out everything else. Perfect. The storm would give us cover for what I needed to do.
I guided Mia to sit on the edge of the bed, her hands still shaking as she wrapped them around herself. “Just breathe. I’m going to take care of something.”
Lightning flashed, bright enough to light up the whole room for a split second. Then darkness again. The lights flickered once, twice, then died completely. The power grid had taken a hit.
I couldn’t have asked for more perfect timing.
I pulled out the RF detector from my bag, the same one I’d been carrying since we arrived. With the electrical interference from the storm, Oliver’s surveillance system would be glitching. Cameras might be down, audio feeds crackling with static. This was my window.
I swept the device across the walls, ceiling, every surface. I knew there were cameras, just not how many. The detector lit up immediately—multiple signals, just as I’d suspected. Corner of the main room where I’d already spotted the camera. Audio bug near the window. Another camera in the light fixture. Even one tucked under the dresser, angled to catch anything the others might miss.
Oliver had wired this place like a fucking reality show set.
The lights flickered back on, dim and unsteady. I moved fast, collecting each device expediently. Four total, not counting the one I’d already destroyed in the bathroom.
“Damn storm,” I said loudly, for the benefit of any devices still transmitting. “These lights are going crazy, and I can’t even get Wi-Fi on my phone. Electrical surges play hell with electronics.”
Mia stared at me like she couldn’t understand what I was saying, still shaking.
I pulled out a metal ammunition box from under the bed—standard military surplus. The metal would block any signals, create a Faraday cage that would cut off the devices from their receivers. I dropped the transmitters into the box, then closed the lid tight. The latches clicked into place with finality.
Silence. Real silence, not the performed kind we’d been living in. For the first time since we’d arrived in this hellhole, we were truly alone.
I moved over to Mia. “I got all the bugs and cameras. We’re completely alone. With the storm, they won’t be able to hear anything, even if they happened to be using external recording devices.”
She still stared like I was speaking another language. I cupped her face. “It’s okay. Let it out.”
The dam broke.
Mia’s control shattered completely. A sob tore from her throat, raw and primal, like something being ripped from her chest. Then another. And another. Her whole body convulsed with the force of them, tears streaming down her face as three days of terror poured out at once.
I pulled her against me, and she collapsed into my chest, her fingers twisting in my shirt as she cried. Not gentle tears but body-shaking sobs that sounded like they hurt coming out.
“I’m sorry.” The words came out broken between sobs. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”
“Shh. You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”
“I’m falling apart. I can’t—I can’t keep it together. I’m going to get us killed because I can’t?—”
“You’re not falling apart. You’re having a completely normal reaction to an insane situation.” I held her tighter, one hand stroking her hair. “You’ve been incredible. Stronger than anyone could expect. I’ve never been as proud to know someone my whole life as I am to know you.”
She shook her head against my chest, tears soaking through my shirt. “I’m not strong. I’m terrified every second. I can’t breathe in this place. The walls, the cameras, the way they look at me?—”
“And you’ve handled it all. You’ve played the part perfectly, kept your head when Snake was threatening you, when Oliver was testing us. You’ve been extraordinary.”
The sobs kept coming, each one tearing through her like she’d been holding them back for years, not just days. Maybe she had. Maybe this wasn’t just about the compound but about every accumulated fear and trauma finally finding release.
I guided us down to the floor, sitting with my back against the bed frame. She curled into me, still crying, but at least she’d stopped apologizing between sobs. The tears, I could handle; the apologies were completely unacceptable.
