The cell door creaked open. Operator 47 stepped inside, waving off the guard.

  “I just wanted to see how you’re doing,” he said.

  Fresh tears blurred Aiko’s vision. She scrubbed them away with the back of her hand. “How do you think I’m doing? I watched her burn.” Her voice cracked.

  Operator 47 tilted his head. “I don’t know how she smuggled in lighter fluid. I had no idea she was suicidal. Such a pity. Such a waste.”

  Aiko’s stomach turned. Liar. Ginger didn’t do that. You set her up. Heat rose in her chest. When I get my chance, you’ll burn worse.

  She bit down on her rage, whispered, “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

  “That’s fine, dear,” he said smoothly, “but Malcolm isn’t happy. You were supposed to have solved that little puzzle by now.”

  “Then let him do it himself,” Aiko snapped. Her words came icy, but her hands shook.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  His smile didn’t budge. “Perhaps this will motivate you. Your hearing is next week. If you deliver results, Malcolm will put in a good word. He might even let you see your visitors.”

  Aiko’s head jerked up. “Visitors? Who?”

  “The little girl and her sister. And an old samurai.”

  Her heart stopped. Uncle. Emma. Annabelle.

  “Bullshit!”

  The word ripped out of her throat before she could stop it.

  Operator 47 leaned in close. “Girls only get visitors when they cooperate. And you’ve stopped doing that. So… good luck at your hearing.”

  He turned to leave.

  “Wait!” Aiko shouted, her voice trembling. “I’ll keep going. But I get to see my uncle first.”

  He paused, eyes glittering. “That can be arranged. But you’d better get cracking.”

  The door slammed. Aiko dropped onto her bunk, fists pressed to her eyes. She didn’t trust Malcolm, but she had no choice.

  Later, in the chow line, her head swam with memories: Ginger burning, Jack’s twisted grin, Liam’s lifeless eyes. Her chest ached like it was caving in.

  “Hey. Watch yourself.”

  Aiko blinked. She’d walked straight into Dynamo. The older girl glared down at her.

  “Sorry,” Aiko mumbled. “I… I haven’t been myself.”

  Dynamo’s gaze softened. “Yeah. None of us have. We all miss Ginger. Messed up, the way she went out.”

  Aiko’s throat closed. She tried to answer, but only a choking sound slipped out.

  Dynamo gave a short nod and moved on.

  Aiko stood there, fists clenched, forcing herself to breathe. She would survive. For Ginger. For Uncle. For Emma and Annabelle.