Knuckles white on the doorframe. The pain in my shoulder pulsed in time with my heartbeat.
Should feel something. Horror. Guilt. Remorse.
Nothing there. Empty space where reaction should be.
That was the problem. Not just that I killed them. That I felt nothing about killing them.
Across the room, Clare gripped the desk edge. Keeping distance. Keeping barriers.
Feel nothing about them. Feel everything about her.
Wrong. Inverted. Should care about taking lives. Care about her instead.
What did that make me?
I forced myself to move. One step. Another.
She watched me approach. Didn’t back away but didn’t relax either.
Pulled out the notepad. Wrote slowly, deliberately. Held it up.
Are you afraid of me?
Her eyes widened.
Something flickered across her face. Pain, maybe. Or understanding.
She didn’t answer immediately. Just stared at the words like they were a riddle she needed to solve.
The silence stretched. My chest tightened.
Finally, she looked up. Met my gaze directly.
“What you did...” Quiet. Raw. “In the alley. How fast you moved. How easily you...” She swallowed. “Two men. Dead before they hit the ground.”
I didn’t look away. Couldn’t.
“I watched you go from gentle to lethal in half a second.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “Like flipping a switch.”
My throat worked uselessly. Wanted to explain. Defend. Apologize.
Nothing came.
“So yeah.” She exhaled slowly. “I’m afraid of what you can do. What you were trained to do, it seems. What they made you into, even if you don’t remember.”
The words hit like physical blows. Confirmation of what I already knew. What I was.
Monster. Weapon. Killer.
“But afraid of you?” She shook her head. Stepped closer. One step, then another, closing the distance I’d created. “No.”
I stared at her. Not understanding.
She leaned forward, golden eyes intense, unblinking. Close enough that I could smell the faint scent of her shampoo, see the exhaustion bruising the skin beneath her eyes.
“As long as your brain holds up.” Absolute certainty in her voice. “As long as you still remember me. Still know who I am. Still recognize...” She gestured between us. “This. Whatever this is.”
I reached toward the back of my neck. The chip. The thing they’d put inside me.
