Before Audrey went to sleep, another series of orderlies marched through the hallways, and their conversation filtered in.
“We take the detainees to and from this room for questioning,” one explained, then added, “Number Three wants us to prep the Simas female for morning intake and evaluation with Number One.”
“And Number Two? Has anyone heard anything?”
Another orderly muttered through the door, “Field One still hasn’t transferred him. Bastard won’t give them any names.”
Audrey’s mouth went dry hearing them talk about Mihail—and about taking her to Number One. She pulled the scratchy sheets tighter around her body.
If she wanted any hope of escaping, protecting Taryn, and finding Cary before it was too late, Audrey would have to face Ryker. Real fear sank its claws into her. She had no choice but to ignore it, cling to her anger, and remind herself that she hadn’t been broken yet.
She would survive the intake, learn what Ryker truly wanted, and hide whatever part of herself he had not earned the right to see.
Ryker wasn’t just the monster at the center of the maze. He was the obstacle between Audrey and every answer she still needed.
25
Taryn was quiet while Audrey cared for her that evening.
It was as if her mind had retreated, wounded and hiding. Despite what the orderlies had said, Audrey hadn’t yet been taken below—where true interrogations happened, where screams were buried, and prisoners might not return. Maybe Taryn had bought Audrey time—or Ryker was still appraising her value.
What happened below these rooms wasn’t punishment. Audrey sensed a pattern. Prisoners were questioned, broken, measured, and disappeared into the compound. She didn’t know what would come of that process, but she knew she was being moved toward it.
They were hitting Taryn harder now, and the damage showed. Her previously fiery thoughts waned to embers. Jagged images flared behind Audrey’s eyes, some so raw she had to flee, grip the sink, breathe away nausea.
But she couldn’t escape them entirely. Taryn’s memories followed her everywhere.
In one of Audrey’s mind-intruding visions, drawn from Taryn’s memories, Taryn was tied to a bed, wrists bound so tightthe skin had split. She writhed, screaming, as Nikos leaned over her with the relaxed cruelty of a man slapping bugs. The end of his cigarette burned bright before he pressed it to her exposed neck. Nikos laughed. Taryn bucked, throat tearing open on a sound Audrey felt in her own bones.
“Feel like talking now? This is nothing. Tell us what we want, or you’ll pray for pain this small.”
Taryn answered in broken Aggregate Standard, voice subdued with fury. “I know nothing about this man.”
“But you know which Field they’d keep him in,” Nikos said. “Tell us which one.”
“Get away,” she growled. “I’ll talk. In Ezebethian.”
Nikos stepped back, waiting.
The door opened. A woman entered—short dark hair, a green tattoo twisting around her neck like a breathing vine. She spoke in Ezebethian, voice syrup-slow and cold.“Tell us what you know.”
Taryn spoke. The woman translated.
“They will take him to the largest Field near Jalnor. The Prime Field. Field One.”
Nikos’s eyes narrowed. “And where inside it?”
Taryn hesitated. “I cannot say.”
“Cannot or will not?” he barked, striking her hard enough that Audrey felt the sting across her own cheek.
“Both,” Taryn whispered.
Nikos glared at the woman. “We’re done with her. Find him wherever he’s hiding. Drag him out.”
The woman nodded once. “Agreed.”
The vision faded.
