Page 174 of Operation: Defiance

“No.”

He nods like he already knew the answer. Still, the fact that he offered—that he asked what I wanted rather than needed—steadies me. I reach for his hand, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze. “I’ll tell you everything. After. But I have to do this on my own.”

He watches me just long enough to confirm I’m steady, then steps back. “I’m going to shower and make a few calls of my own,” he says. “I’ll be nearby.”

I don’t track him when he leaves. It’s enough to know he’s still here. I pick up the phone, and take a single, measured breath before dialing Ellen’s number.

The call connects on the third ring.

“Hello?”

I don’t say anything. Just let the cadence of my breathing carry over the line and hope she understands what I need from her.

“I was wondering if you’d call,” Ellen says. She sounds careful. Brittle, in a way I’ve never heard before.

“I didn’t know if I could. Or…should. They’ll be looking for me. They’ll need to finish what they started.”

“You’re a loose end. They don’t like those.”

I close my eyes briefly and tighten my fingers around the phone. “Are they listening?”

“Yes.” Emotion creeps into her voice. “I didn’t know that the last time you called me. I assumed they’d just be checking logs. I wasn’t worried because we hadn’t talked in two years.” She inhales, the sound shaky. “They came to my house the next morning. Early. Two men. They were inside so fast. Took my phone, watched while I got dressed, put me in the back of a van…”

She takes another shuddering breath, and her voice tightens. “They brought me to the Kent interrogation facility. Kept me in a room with no windows and questioned me for hours. No breaks. No food or water. They had transcripts of my calls. Not summaries. Exact language.”

“Then they’ll have this too. I have to hang up⁠—”

“No,” she says, the word sharp. “They don’t get to control me anymore. Not after…what it cost you. What it’s still costing you.” There’s so much guilt in her tone, my eyes sting.

A chair scrapes over the line, followed by soft footsteps. “Raine? Tell me they didn’t break anything that won’t mend.”

“I’m—” My breath shudders on the way in. I curl my toes in my shoes, feeling the thick cotton, the soft soles, the solidness of the floor. “Functional.”

“That’s…something. I should have warned you.”

I don’t argue. There’s no room for it, and no need.

“They’ve asked about you before,” Ellen says. There’s a quiet strength under her words now. “How often we spoke. What we talked about. It was all routine. Until it wasn’t.”

“Wait. Before last week?” Shock clogs my throat, and my voice scrapes raw.

“Yes. Twice. Once after I’d completed their…program, and the second time before you transferred to Systems. But those weren’t formal interviews,” she says. “They were part of my required monitoring.”

For a moment, the room thins. Whatever doubt I’d been holding onto is gone. Ellen went through Coherent Path and survived. I set that aside before it can drown me.

“They escalated my intake because I reached out to you, didn’t they?”

“Yes.” No hesitation. “You knew too much. I thought if I convinced you to leave it alone, they’d leave you alone. If I’d known they were recording my calls, or that you were already at the threshold⁠—”

“This is not your fault. They don’t warn anyone, do they?”

“No. At least…they never warned me. I spent five days being…corrected before they convinced me retirement was the only option.”

I feel the weight of that word—corrected—square in my chest. In the pressure points along my jaw. My thumbs. My collarbones. Everywhere at once.

The silence on the other end of the call is so loud, my brain screams to fill it. But before I can, Ellen clears her throat.

“They’ll come for me soon. Make me go through the program again.” Her voice is too calm. Like she’s already accepted her fate. “It doesn’t matter that I retired. They’ll do it anyway.”