A week had passed. A week without new evidence. A week without answers. A week of nothing.

  It was infuriating.

  But I was not idle.

  I restocked Edwin's fridge-small, menial tasks kept me from snapping at the incompetence around me. I doubled security on the fourth floor, ensuring that no one could so much as breathe in the wrong direction without my knowledge.

  And I continued down my carefully curated list of guards, hunting the next weak link. The next pawn that had failed me.

  The next prey.

  James had already served his purpose, but he had not been alone that night. There was another. The man who had been stationed with him before the escape. His name sat at the top of my list now, his fate already teetering on the edge of inevitability.

  But none of them knew the full extent of my plans.

  The tests, the injections, the meticulous record-keeping-there was more to it than a simple pursuit of control. The fools thought I was just playing god with my little experiments. They had no idea I had been solving a puzzle far greater than any of them could comprehend.

  The belt.

  I had begun to understand it, to predict it. The moment the serum entered a man's bloodstream, I could see it. I could feel it. The ability that would manifest should he wear the device. Strength, speed, resilience-each was a code written in the very blood they spilled for me.

  At first, I had been reckless, experimenting blindly, injecting, drawing, pushing limits where I could. But I had refined my methods. I no longer needed to inject the serum at all-I could see everything I needed simply by analyzing their blood. A calculated test, a carefully measured process. No waste, no unnecessary risk.

  And all the while, my hunt continued.

  Who had dared to help my son?

  Someone had aided him. Someone within these very walls had betrayed me. And with every vial of blood I tested, with every drop of data l collected, I was closing in.

  Meanwhile, I had passed the belt itself down to the scientists on the second floor. I told them nothing of its true purpose. Only that it must be refined, made smaller, more efficient. They did not need to know more. They did not deserve to know more.

  This was how I had spent my first week since the incident.

  Waiting. Calculating. Watching. And most importantly, collecting data.

  And now, the next move was about to begin.

  I sat in my chair, fingers steepled beneath my chin, my gaze fixed on the door. The silence stretched, thick and expectant. I could feel the moment approaching, the inevitable weight of what was to come.

  Then—

  Knock. Knock.

  Ah. Right on time.

  I leaned back slightly, exhaling slowly through my nose. The sound of my own breath was steady, controlled, measured. Unlike the heartbeat of the man standing just beyond that door. I could already imagine it-thudding against his ribs, erratic, uncertain.

  Fear is a powerful thing.

  "Enter." My voice was smooth, deliberate.

  The door creaked open, and there he was-the next piece on my board.

  I smiled.

  And the hunt continued.

  "Come in," I said, my voice measured, my expression an unshakable mask of calm precision. I folded my hands on the desk as the door opened, revealing the man I had summoned. "Take a seat. This will be a verbal exam. Answer honestly, and know that I'll be taking a blood sample when we're finished."

  Robert.

  He was a meticulous man-sharp, disciplined— but there was always something just slightly off about him. A puzzle piece that almost fit but never quite clicked into place. He had been present the night of the escape, standing with the Doctor when James came to report directly to me. That alone made him suspect.

  And yet, I had never been able to pin him down.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  "Good afternoon, Councilor Albert. I'm here for my test."

  I straightened, allowing the faintest hint of a smile to cross my lips. It was a subtle expression, carefully curated-not one of warmth, but of quiet approval. Enough to keep him steady.

  Enough to keep him guessing.

  His gaze met mine, trained but flickering-just for a moment. A hesitation. It was barely perceptible, but I caught it. Worry? Fear? Yes.

  But there was something else beneath it, something buried too deep for mere nerves to explain.

  He saluted before sitting, his shoulders taut, his posture perfect. A man poised for something— though he did not know what.

  Ileaned forward, steepling my fingers. The air between us tightened, charged with a quiet pressure. "First question: What are your thoughts about me?"

  A flicker of surprise crossed his face. He had not expected that. He blinked once, quickly, before regaining his composure.

  "There's a lot I could say," he began, his tone careful. "You're the councilor of our fallen city, the lead scientist for a cure... the man who gave me my position and who is helping take care of my sick father."

  Ilet the words settle between us, dissecting each one. There was gratitude there, yes-but something else clung to it. A hesitation. A weight when he mentioned his father. Did he resent the fact that he owed me?

  Did it unsettle him to be in my debt?

  Interesting.

  "I see," I said smoothly. "And why do you follow

  me?"

  Robert's jaw tightened, though the shift was slight. "To do my part. To gain recognition. And to help my father get the care he needs."

  Honest. But incomplete.

  I tilted my head slightly. "Do you believe in the goal?"

  His answer came quickly, as though rehearsed.

  "If anyone can find a cure, it's you, sir."

  A well-placed response. Not an outright declaration of belief, but a calculated statement of confidence. It lacked conviction, but not intelligence.

  I watched him for a moment longer, letting the silence stretch. He did not fidget. He did not break eye contact. A soldier through and through.

  "Do you know or have connections to Councilor Marcus?"

  A pause. It was less than a second, but I caught it.

  "No, sir."

  The words were steady. But that moment-that single heartbeat of hesitation-spoke louder than anything he could have said.

  I smiled again, slow and deliberate.

  I watched Robert closely, noting the minute shifts in his expression, the way his pulse beat just a fraction faster at his throat. He had been trained well, but no training could completely mask the truth. It was always there—in the flicker of the eyes, in the pause before a response.

  I steepled my fingers. "What are your goals, Robert? Is it just recognition... or are you seeking a higher position?"

  There. That flicker again. Barely perceptible, but unmistakable.

  "A higher position, sir," he admitted, his voice measured but eager. "If possible, l'd like to work more closely with the scientists on the Second Level."

  Ambition. I had expected as much. He was capable, intelligent-too intelligent to be content as a simple guard. But ambition alone was not enough. I needed to know more.

  I tilted my head, letting my next words fall like a stone into still water. "And what do you think of my son's role?"

  Robert froze. His composure cracked just slightly before he schooled his features again.

  "I'm sorry, sir?"

  I didn't repeat myself. I only watched.

  He swallowed, carefully choosing his next words.

  "Do you think it's too cruel to use my own son to find a cure?"

  A sharp intake of breath. He hadn't expected this.

  "I may not like it," he admitted, each word spoken slowly—hesitating, "but I know you do nothing without reason. If you believe he's instrumental, then... I trust your judgment."

  Good. He understood how to answer. Not with defiance, not with blind agreement, but with pragmatic acceptance. A good trait, a useful one..

  A faint sense of satisfaction crept into my chest.

  But I wasn't finished.

  "Forget the remaining questions," I said, leaning forward slightly. "Just answer this last one." My voice dropped to a whisper, the air between us charged with unspoken weight.

  "Would you be willing to go undercover in another Fallen City?"

  For the first time, true emotion cracked through his careful mask.

  His face faltered-confusion, fear, calculation, all swirling in his expression as he tried to make sense of my request.

  "Uh-?"

  I continued, not allowing hesitation to fester.

  "You see, there's an issue within the Council. I need people I can trust."

  I leaned back then, watching him closely, letting my words settle. Letting him see the path I was carving for him. The gleam of possibility.

  "You have much to gain, Robert. Do this, and I'll bring your father from Midfallen to Center Point City." A pause. "What do you say?"

  A smile crept onto my face. But Robert only stared, horrified.

  I expected calculation, consideration-perhaps even the first hints of reluctant agreement.

  Instead, Robert only stared, horror creeping into his eyes.

  "I'm sorry, sir," he finally stammered, his voice thin, uneven. "But I don't think it would be possible. I need to be close to my father in his final days. I... I couldn't be far from him if the worst happens."

  Weakness.

  My smile didn't waver, but something inside me cooled.

  Robert had just answered a far more important question than any I had asked. Still, it was a pity he couldn’t see what lay before him. There was use in him that could’ve played a huge role, however he already had his goal from the start.

  “Thank you for your time, Robert. Now,” I added, holding up the needle, “I just need a sample of your blood.”

  Robert extended his arm, obedient as ever, but his eyes... his eyes were elsewhere. Distant. Guarded. A man who had already begun building his walls.

  I drew his blood without a word. The needle pierced flesh, the vial filled, and still, he did not waver. There was no fear of the needle, no overt resistance-but there was something else.

  Something far more telling.

  A quiet kind of defiance.

  By the time he left, the door clicking shut behind him, I was already turning the vial in my hand.

  The crimson liquid within caught the light, swirling like liquid fire-vivid, alive, untainted by hesitation. How ironic.

  Defiance, no matter how faint, was a seed. Left unchecked, it could take root and grow.

  Robert isn’t a traitor. At least, he’s not a suspect yet.

  But I had learned long ago not to gamble on potential.

  I set the vial down on my desk with deliberate care, my fingers tapping against the glass.

  Weakness. It came in many forms, and Robert's was as glaring as the city's fractured skyline. He wasn't motivated by greed, nor was he swayed by ideology. His loyalty was tethered to a single thing.

  His father.

  A plan began to crystallize, sharp and precise, leaning back in my chair. The silence in the room was thick, expectant, pressing in on all sides.

  Ilet the words slip into the air, more to myself than to anyone else.

  "If Robert's loyalty is tethered to his father," I murmured, my voice steady, measured, "then there are two ways to sever that leash."

  One... remove the father.

  Two... hold his father captive and under special care, keeping hold on the leash Robert never knew I had.