44. Ellie #3
"Information exchange. Real names, real locations, operational details that could actually damage The Order.
But I want more than your survival, Doctor.
I want to see how much you're willing to pay for it. I want your expertise. The Order needs a replacement for Grace, someone who understands the methods because they’ve lived through it.
Come with us when my people arrive. Hand yourself over willingly, and I'll give you everything you want to know. "
My blood runs cold. He's trying to recruit me. Trying to get me to hand myself over, to be tortured, broken, turned into another asset.
Or he's testing whether I'd sacrifice my soul to get what I want.
"No."
Julian's smile doesn't falter. "Think about it, Doctor. Real intelligence in exchange for one person. It's a fair trade."
"We're done here."
Julian settles back in his chair. "If you change your mind, I can make things easier for you. Call off certain operations. Ensure The Order leaves you alone." He smiles. "But I'm not going anywhere. So you know where to find me when you realize what you're up against."
I stand, gathering my recording equipment and notes. Four pages of names and locations. It's not enough though. It's nowhere near enough.
"One more question," I say, pausing at the door. "Grace mentioned something during conditioning. About The Order having plans for me specifically. What did she mean?"
Julian's face shifts. For the first time, he almost looks sympathetic. "Your father's research, Doctor. The work you've continued in trauma recovery and psychological resilience. The Order finds such research... valuable."
"For what purpose?"
"Weaponizing your methods." He pauses. "You taught us how to rebuild trauma survivors.
So we learned how to create them." Julian's eyes glitter.
"Break someone until they're begging for relief, then use your techniques to rebuild them into whatever we need.
They won't even remember who they used to be.
" He smiles. "Grace wanted to test it on you.
Break the therapist with her own methods. She thought it was serendipitous."
My hands begin to shake. I set down the pen before he can see, and press my palms flat against the metal table. The cold helps. My life's work. Everything I built to help people. They're using it to break them more efficiently. I force a breath into my lungs, feeling the nausea roll through me.
"Is that why Grace kept me alive? To study my methods?"
"Partly. Though I suspect she enjoyed the intellectual challenge of breaking someone with your understanding," Julian tilts his head. "Tell me, Doctor, do you still call yourself a healer? Or do you finally admit what you’ve become?"
I look around the room. The drain in the floor. The restraints. The table of instruments Killian laid out like he were prepping for surgery.
I'm standing in a torture chamber, recording information extracted under threat from a prisoner in my boyfriend's basement.
The woman I was would never have done this.
"No," I admit. "She broke the woman I was."
Julian nods, satisfied.
"But the woman I became is stronger and more dangerous than she imagined." I meet his eyes. "Grace's mistake wasn't breaking me. It was assuming I couldn't build something better from the pieces."
I leave, closing the door and passing through the surveillance nook.
Jackson is still hunched over the monitors. Gabriel stops his pacing when I come out, his jaw set so tight it looks painful.
"Killian went upstairs two minutes ago," Jackson mutters, not looking away from the code scrolling across his screen. "I thought he was going to rip the monitor off the wall when Julian made that offer."
"It's everywhere, Ellie," Gabriel says, his voice a low, dangerous vibration. "This is a shadow government."
"Then we fight," I say.
I climb the stairs, leaving them down in the dark.
The kitchen smells of coffee. The shower at 6 AM feels like days ago, not hours. Killian's leaning against the island, his eyes anchored to the laptop screen. Julian is a gray heap on the display, slumped in the corner of the room. Killian’s jaw is locked tight.
He heard it all.
"How do you feel?" he asks, not looking up, but his hand finds mine on the granite. His skin is hot.
"He wants a trade. An acquisition." My voice scrapes against my throat. "He wanted me to hand someone over to them. Someone like me. In exchange for the names."
Killian finally looks up from the monitor. There’s something dark in his eyes. It doesn’t scare me. It steadies me.
"Gabe and Jackson are already moving on the first set of names. Locations, shell companies. It’s more than we expected to get. You did amazing."
"He's waiting," I say, leaning into him. "He’s so certain they’re coming for him that he’s giving us everything just to keep us busy until they arrive. He’s not talking to save his life, he’s talking to buy time."
"Let them come," Killian says. His voice is a simple statement of fact, not a threat. "We'll be ready."
I look at the screen one last time before he reaches over and shuts the laptop. The basement is gone.
"Ready for war, Dr. Hart?"
I think of the names. The people who think they can reach into someone's life and take whatever they want.
"Ready."
I don’t feel like a healer anymore. I feel like a weapon. And for the first time, that doesn't scare me.