Door after door. Child after child. Some come willingly, clinging to us like we're the first kind touch they've felt in months. A girl maybe six years old wraps herself around Marlee's leg and won't let go, her tiny body shaking with sobs she doesn't know how to release. A boy takes Jace's hand without a word, his eyes empty but his grip desperate.
Others fight, lashing out with fists and teeth, their conditioning turning them into weapons even against the people trying to save them. One girl, maybe twelve, puts Marlee on the groundbefore Jace can restrain her. She moves like water, like smoke, trained violence and no hesitation. A perfect weapon in a child's body.
"Careful," Jace warns as Marlee gets back up, blood dripping from a split lip. "They've been trained to kill. This wing is the Protocol wing, these kids are more aggressive. Instinct takes over when they're threatened."
"Yeah, I noticed." Marlee wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, but her eyes on the restrained girl are soft. Understanding. "It's okay, sweetheart. We're not going to hurt you. We're going to get you out of here."
The girl stops struggling. Looks at Marlee with eyes that have seen too much. "Out doesn't exist," she says. Her voice is flat, reciting a lesson. "There is only the Silent. There is only the work. There is only compliance."
My stomach turns. I know those words. I said those words, once upon a time, before Jagger and Jace broke me free. Before I learned that the world was bigger than the walls they built around me.
"We are going.” I look at the little girl and point to the door and she nods, walking out and joining the rest of the kids.
We keep moving. "How many more?" Marlee asks.
"Eighteen cleared. Twenty-nine to go."
Twenty-nine children. Twenty-nine broken souls waiting in their cells. And somewhere in this building, the woman who broke them.
Helena Cross.
The architect of my nightmares, close enough to touch, close enough to kill. My hands itch for it. My blood sings with the need.
But not yet. Children first. Vengeance second.
We push deeper into the wing. The cells here are different. Larger. More equipment. Monitoring stations outside each door, screens displaying vital signs and brain activity. These aren't holding cells. These are the experimental laboratories.
"Jesus Christ." Asher stops in front of one of the monitors. The readout shows a child's brain, sections lit up in angry red and yellow. "They're mapping neural pathways. Tracking the conditioning in real time."
"It's how they refine the protocols." The words taste like ash in my mouth. "They watch what changes, what breaks, what holds. Every child is an experiment. Data points for the next iteration."
"How do you know that?"
"Because they did it to me."
The memory surfaces before I can stop it.Nine years old, once again strapped to a table, electrodes attached to my skull. A woman's voice narrating my responses as they pumped chemicals into my veins and shocked specific regions of my brain.
"Subject H3 shows increased aggression response. Recommend escalating the fear protocol."
"Jinx." Asher's hand lands on my shoulder, warm and solid. "Stay with me."
"I'm here." I force the memory down, lock it away. "I'm here. Keep moving."
The next cell is occupied. A boy, maybe fourteen, restrained in a chair. His eyes are open but empty, staring at nothing, his chest rising and falling in the slow rhythm of sedation. Walking towards him, I work on the restraints. The boy turns his head slowly and looks past me.
"He’s somewhere else." I lift the boy from the chair, cradle him against my chest. He weighs nothing. Skin and bones and trauma. "I don’t think he’s coming back."
"But he might. You did."
"Did I?"
The question hangs between us. I don't have an answer. Some days I'm not sure if I ever really left that table. If the person I am now is the real me or just another mask the conditioning taught me to wear.
"Movement." Marlee's voice cuts through the comms. "East corridor. Multiple contacts."
"How many?"
"Six. Maybe more. Professional formation. These aren't rent-a-cops."
