And if someone is calling for him…
Either I’m finally losing my mind—
Or Ronan Pierce is alive.
My pulse hammers.
I strain against the cuffs, pain ripping through my shoulders, but I don’t care. I lean toward the corridor like sound can save me.
“Who is that?” I rasp, voice shredded from disuse. “Who—”
Nothing.
Static.
Then the faintest breath of words:
“—not dead… find us…”
My chest caves in.
Tears sting my eyes, hot and humiliating. I swallow them down, jaw clenched so hard it shakes.
Don’t hope. Hope gets you killed in places like this.
But it’s too late.
Something has cracked open inside me—something I’ve been holding shut with sheer will.
A door.
A possibility.
And the facility feels different now. Not safer.
More dangerous.
Because if the Warden realizes a signal got through…
He’ll tighten the cage.
He’ll punish harder.
He’ll try to snuff out the spark before it becomes fire.
Footsteps return—fast this time, angry.
A guard’s voice barks in Russian.
The slot slams open.
A baton strikes the bars.
“Silence!” the guard snaps, like he heard something. Like he sensed something.
Like fear has finally reachedthem.
I lift my head.
