Page 282 of Operation: Defiance

Voss turns to the camera again. “Agent Calder. You have three hours to surrender yourself to our Kent facility. Every minute you wait, Mr. Locke’s condition will continue to decline. What remains of him now is salvageable. What remains in three hours may not be. The choice is yours.”

The recording stops.

The room goes soft at the edges. The table under my hands is so far away, I can’t feel the grain anymore. Someone’s breathing too quickly and too shallowly, and it takes me too long to realize it’s me.

My thumb drifts to my index finger and finds nothing. Desperate, I dip my hand into my pocket to find Asher’s coin. It’s on the dresser.

Pressing my fingers together, I wait for my pulse to thrum between them. It’s racing too fast.

I waited too long. I did this. I destroyed him.

I count my heartbeats until the table no longer feels like something theoretical and the edges of the living room come back into focus. I need to see him again. Before I respond, I have to see him once more.

The second time, I notice the tremor running through his shoulders—and how he’s trying to keep it under control. The way one of his hands is balled into a fist, while the other is looser. The way he lists to one side, corrects it, and lists again.

I tune out Voss’s words, my entire focus on Asher. Searching for any part of him that might be left.

The motion is so small, I almost miss it. His left thumb brushes his index finger.

I hold my breath. He does it again. I stop the video, rewind, and play it back.

His eyes flick to Voss. To something else in the room. Back again. He’s being careful. Hoping no one will see.

The motion is intentional.

Asher is there. He’s completely there. Whatever they did to him, he found the one signal only I would understand.

Which means Voss didn’t break him. He tried, but he couldn’t. So he took Asher’s voice, hoping I wouldn’t know the difference.

The right response keeps him believing I don’t.

It takes me five minutes.

Dr. Voss,

I’ve seen the video. I can’t let you keep hurting him until there’s nothing left. Not when there’s a way for me to stop it.

Mr. Locke needs medical attention. I’ll arrive at the Kent facility in exactly forty-five minutes. But I have two conditions.

First: You allow me to say goodbye to Mr. Locke. In person. Give us that.

Second: The car service that drops me off will wait at the curb. Your people will put Mr. Locke into it, then step away. The driver will have instructions to take Mr. Locke to the nearest hospital for treatment.

You’ll agree to these conditions because unredacted copies of the founding memo and the disposal orders, all of which include your name, will automatically be sent to the Public Integrity Project in ninety minutes. Unless I stop them.

When I see that Mr. Locke’s car is safely away, I’ll disable the drop. What happens after that is up to you.

Raine Calder

I take two slow breaths, counting through each one, before I re-read the email. If it’s not perfect, Asher will pay the price.

I can’t let you keep hurting him until there’s nothing left.

Voss needs confirmation that he’s right. That Asher is the one pressure point that matters to me. He built a program targeting women. He clearly did that for a reason. This line gives him exactly what he needs. He’ll see weakness. Not calculation.

The conditions are clear. Framed as facts, not requests, because requests can be refused. He’ll read the first one as desperation. Good.

For a moment, I consider mirroring his language. Adding “surrender.” But my temples throb, the memory of the current flowing through my brain so strong, it feels like it’s happening all over again.