Chapter 16: The Place They Take Her
Isla woke to white.
Not light—space.
White walls. White floor. White ceiling.
No windows.
No corners.
The air smelled faintly of metal and something sterile she couldn't name.
Her wrists were strapped to a narrow bed. Not tightly. Carefully. As if whoever restrained her was more afraid of what she might do than of what she might escape.
Memory crashed back.
The road.
The impact.
Rafe's blood.
Her breath hitched violently.
"Rafe—!"
"Easy," a voice said.
The man in gray stepped into view.
He looked almost gentle here, dressed in a simple dark suit, hands folded behind his back like a professor rather than a hunter.
"You're safe," he said.
She strained against the restraints.
"Where is he?"
"Alive," he replied. "For now."
Her chest shook. "Let me see him."
"In time."
She glared at him. "You're afraid of me."
A corner of his mouth lifted.
"Yes."
The honesty startled her.
"You felt it on the road," he continued. "The way the air answered you. The way the ground leaned closer. That wasn't fear, Isla. That was recognition."
"Stop talking," she snapped.
"You don't want truth?" he asked. "Even though it's been living in your blood since before you were born?"
She turned her face away.
He moved closer.
"Your mother didn't just hide you," he said softly. "She altered you. Suppressed what you are. We are here to remove the lock."
Panic stirred.
"What am I?"
Something like reverence entered his eyes.
"A threshold."
The word echoed in her bones.
"You open what should not be opened," he said. "And you survive it."
Her pulse thundered.
"And Rafe?"
The man studied her.
"He was assigned to your line," he said. "You were not the first. You were supposed to be another report. Another file."
"But I wasn't," she whispered.
"No," he agreed. "You were his undoing."
Her throat tightened.
"What are you going to do to him?"
"That," he said, "depends entirely on what you become."