Page 219 of Operation: Defiance

He taps the screen a couple of times, then sets the phone between us.

Subject: Final warning

“Well, that’s suitably ominous,” Asher mutters.

Mr. Locke,

This has gone on long enough. You and Agent Calder will turn yourselves over to GSD’s Security Service within twenty-four hours or the final correction referenced in the video proceeds on schedule.

Asher’s gaze locks on mine.

“Play the video,” I whisper. My heartbeat kicks. Hard. Asher links his fingers with mine, and clicks the link.

Concrete walls. Harsh lights shining on a metal chair bolted to the floor. A plain steel table a few feet away.

Two men in dark gray pants and blue shirts bring Ellen into the room. She’s dressed in pale gray scrubs, thin soled shoes. Her hands are cuffed in front of her, but her ankles are free.

Her short gray hair is mussed and tangled. When we worked together, she was always put together. Not a single strand out of place.

Asher squeezes my hand as the men secure her wrists to the chair.

Ellen’s fingers twitch once, then settle. The men leave the room.

I catalog the dark circles under her eyes. Her dry lips. The darkening bruise on her jaw. It’s small. A single pressure point. Not quite purple yet, but close.

She flinches as a door opens somewhere outside of camera range. A man enters, followed by a woman with a clipboard. Same dark gray pants. Same blue shirts. Clothing designed to be forgettable. I can’t see their faces when they sit. Only Ellen’s.

“This is a compliance check.” The man folds his hands on the table. “State the rules.”

“I…” Ellen shudders, swallows hard, and tries again. “I stay quiet. I stay still. I let the program do its job.”

“Good,” he replies, and the woman checks something on the clipboard. “Do you understand why you’re here?”

“I crossed the threshold for reintake.” Her voice is so thin, she sounds like she’s about to shatter.

“How?” the woman asks.

“I shared confidential information with a person I was told not to engage with.”

The man’s tone sharpens. “Why didn’t you set up a meet with Agent Calder as you were instructed?”

“And let you bring her back here? We were friends…once.” A tear rolls down Ellen’s cheek.

“You were told what would happen if you refused,” he says.

Ellen’s lips flatten for a beat. “Yes. But you’d have forced me back into the program anyway. And Raine would have known I’d betrayed her. I recognize what I did wrong. I accept the consequences.”

The woman’s pen scratches over the paper. It’s too loud in the silence of the room.

Leaning forward, the man glares at her. “You told her about the program’s origin. That isn’t information you were cleared to have.”

Ellen squares her shoulders, lifts her chin, and stares right at them. “I don’t work for GSD anymore. You took that from me the last time I went through the program. And I got the name from paperwork someone in your position put right in front of me six years ago. If you’re going to blame someone for that, blame them. Not me.”

“You broke protocol because you felt guilty,” the man says.

Ellen’s eyes narrow. She jerks the cuffs, the rattle of chains loud enough it hurts. “I broke it because this program shouldn’t exist.”

The man snaps his fingers, and two other men enter so quickly, they’re almost a blur. One forces the hood over her head and cinches the ties tight around her neck.