“Yes.”
I hold his gaze.
“You’re afraid of something you don’t understand.”
He laughs—but it’s thinner now.
“You’re not as important as you think.”
I tilt my head slightly.
Study him.
Measure.
Then—
“That’s not what your boss thinks.”
Silence.
There it is.
A crack.
His jaw tightens just a fraction.
Not enough for most people to notice.
Enough for me.
I lean back, letting my head rest against the metal wall.
Close my eyes.
Because now I know something important.
They’re not in control of this.
They’re following it.
And that means there are edges.
There are always edges.
My fingers tingle harder now—pain returning, sharp and electric.
Circulation coming back.
Almost usable.
Almost free.
They think they took a woman.
They didn’t.
They took a process.
