“Anchor,” he said again, savoring the word.
My vision narrowed to a tunnel, darkness crowding the edges. All I could see was her—Maeve. Reaching out for me. Fighting to get to me.
“Vessel.”
My throat constricted as if invisible hands squeezed the air from my lungs. The image of her vanished from my vision. My sight blackened out as I tried to focus on supplying my lungs with air—unsuccessfully.
“Marionette.”
The final word drove me completely to my knees, spine bowing under unseen pressure. The room splintered into fragments—one moment clear, the next obscured by static and shadow. I remained conscious, but my body no longer obeyed my commands.
“Perfect,” Brock whispered, crouching to bring his face level with mine.
I struggled against invisible manacles as my knees pressed into the floor. My body felt divided—nerves transmitting agony, muscles refusing commands, brain screaming orders that never reached their destination. Blood filled my mouth where I’d bitten my tongue, copper-salt mingling with bile.
The room tilted and warped. Shattered glass glittered across the floor from our earlier struggle—diamonds scattered across dark wood. My vision pulsed with each labored heartbeat, clarity coming in waves between darkness.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
The antique clock on the wall counted down my remaining freedom. Each second drove deeper fractures into my consciousness.
“All that effort to reclaim your identity,” Brock said, his voice oscillating between thunderous and distant as my hearing distorted. “And for what? To kneel before me anyway?”
A violent tremor ripped through me. With monumental effort, I raised my head to meet his gaze. Blood trickled from my nose, dripping onto the hardwood below.
“Why not… just kill me?” I managed to ask, each word a battle.
Brock laughed, the sound like broken glass. “And waste such a valuable asset? The Director wants you reconditioned, not eliminated.” He leaned down, close enough that I could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Though I did volunteer to personally oversee your retrieval. For old times’ sake.”
The shadows crept closer from the corners, alive and hungry.
I’d been there before.
The memory crashed through my fragmented mind—the same office, different time. Kneeling as Brock stood above me, speaking to men in expensive suits.The asset requires recalibration. His loyalty parameters have shifted.
“You were always my finest creation, Ronan,” Brock said, circling closer. His shoes clicked against the floor with each measured step. “The perfect weapon before Oblivion, just not perfectly loyal. We’ll fix that this time.”
Every word drove another spike into my skull. My body trembled with the effort to move, to speak, to resist the programming burning through my nerves like molten lead.
Maeve’s face flashed behind my eyes once more—her determined expression as she crawled through the vent, her trust when I promised to protect her, her smile against my chest in the darkness. Terror gripped me, not for myself but for her. If I was gone, lost in the programming once more, who would protect her from this fate?
Brock stopped suddenly, reading my expression. His head tilted, studying me like a scientist observing a specimen. He crouched, bringing his face level with mine. His cologne mixed with the metallic scent of blood, creating a nauseating combination.
“Don’t worry about Ms. Durham,” he said, his voice intimate, almost gentle. He placed the barrel of my own gun against my temple. “Like I said, I’ll personally take care of her once you’re secure.”
My jaw clenched so tightly I heard teeth crack. Through sheer will, I forced words past the neural blockade.
“You… won’t… touch her.”
Brock’s smile widened, revealing perfect white teeth. “You really don’t understand your position, do you?” He pressed the gun harder against my skin. “After what I do to her, she’ll beg for the mercy of a bullet. And you’ll be the one holding the gun.”
I strained against invisible restraints. Blood vessels burst in my eyes, painting my vision crimson. My entire body shuddered with the effort to resist, muscles standing out like cords across my neck and arms.
“First, I’ll have you watch,” Brock continued, voice thick with anticipation. “I want to see your eyes when you realize how completely you’ve failed her.”
Consciousness fractured around the edges.I’m sorry, Maeve. I tried. I failed you like I failed Sofia.
Specter. Find her. Protect her. Please.
