Light floods in.
I squint, heart hammering, trying to summon the man I used to be—the one who followed Ronan Pierce into hell without hesitation.
But that man is so tired.
The guard doesn’t shout.
He doesn’t threaten.
He just says calmly, “It can stop.”
I laugh weakly. The sound surprises me. “You say that every time.”
He shakes his head. “No. This time is different.”
They lower my arms.
Just a little.
Relief crashes through me so hard I nearly sob.
“Talk,” he says. “Tell us what Pierce taught you. Routes. Contacts. Protocols.”
I hesitate.
And that’s all it takes.
Hope is a traitor.
My voice comes out hoarse, broken. “I don’t know where he is. I thought he was dead.”
The guard steps closer. “But you know how he thinks.”
Images flash behind my eyes—Ronan standing in the dark, voice steady.Hold the line. Don’t give them anything.
I open my mouth to repeat it.
Instead—
“I’ll tell you,” I whisper. I don’t plan on telling them anything important; I’ll make up a few things.
The words fall into the space between us like shattered glass.
Something inside me collapses instantly.
The guard smiles—not wide, not cruel.
Satisfied.
I starttalking.
Not everything. Some stuff I make up. They don’t know I’m lying.
I don’t say names.
Just enough to stay alive another day.
Enough to not matter.
