These people are observant. And smart. “Maybe my leash is longer than you think.”
“Maybe.” She offers me water, tilting the bottle so I can drink. “Or maybe you're here because you know exactly what the Sanctum of Ash is, and you're not sure the system will deliver justice.”
The water tastes like absolution, cool against my parched throat. When she pulls the bottle away, I meet her eyes directly.
“Are you a survivor too?”
Her hand stills halfway to the tray. For a moment, something raw flickers across her features before she catches herself. “Of what?”
“The Sanctum of Ash,” I answer. “The cult. Is that why you're here?”
She laughs, but there's no humor in it. “My story is different, though it leaves similar scars.”
“I recognize the look.” I watch her carefully, noting the way her fingers tighten on the bottle. “I think you know what it's like to run from someone who's supposed to protect you.”
She snorts dismissively. “You're fishing.”
“I'm connecting dots.” I lean forward as much as the restraints allow. “Is Nova even your real name?”
Her green eyes narrow dangerously. “Careful, Agent Coleman. You're starting to sound like a cop again.”
“I am a cop. But that doesn't mean I'm your enemy.”
She sets the bottle aside and crosses her arms, studying me with renewed intensity. “Tell me about your investigation. What do you know about the carnival, about what's going on here?”
“I know at least six men have disappeared, all in towns where this carnival performed. I know they're all strong candidates for the Sanctum of Ash. I know these men are systematically hunting down the people who hurt them.”
“And?”
“And I'm starting to think they deserved it.”
The admission hangs between us like a confession. Nova's eyebrows climb toward her hairline, surprise replacing suspicion.
“That's not very FBI of you.”
“No, it's not.” I think about Malachi Voss's terrified face, the way he crumbled when confronted with his past. “But I know what those monsters did to children. I know how the system protected them while their victims cowered.”
“So why are you here? Why not just walk away?”
It's a fair question. One I've been asking myself since I first spotted the pattern.
“Because I needed to understand. Needed to see for myself what justice looks like when the law fails.”
Nova considers this, her head tilted like she's seeing me in a new light. “And what do you think now?”
“I think...” I struggle for words that won't damn me completely. “I think some debts can only be paid in blood.”
She nods slowly, as if I've passed some kind of test. “You want to know how I ended up here?”
“Only if you want to tell me.”
She picks up the sandwich again, tearing off small pieces as she talks. “Silas was the first person I told this story. You’ll be the second.” She pauses. “I ran away from home when I was fifteen. Not because my parents were abusive. They weren't. They just had different dreams for me than I had for myself.”
I accept another bite, noting the careful way she chooses her words. This feels like the truth, but not the whole truth.
“They wanted me to go to college, become something respectable. But all I ever wanted was to perform. To be part of something magical.” Her smile is wistful, tinged with old pain. “I was naive. Thought the world would welcome a teenage runaway with big dreams and no experience.”
“What happened?”
