Chapter 16
Maggie sat on the deck, wrapped in shock. Her hands still burned from the iron. The jagged metal had torn her palms, leaving raw streaks that throbbed with every heartbeat. The wind hadn't stopped howling, tearing at her hair, her clothes, the edges of her sanity.
Reece was nearby but not close. Close enough to see. Far enough to be professional.
She was acutely aware of the space between them. How fast it had closed when his hand had clamped around her wrist. How abruptly it opened again when boots pounded toward them.
The separation hurt, but it also saved her. Security personnel surrounded them now. Flashlights cut through shadow, sweeping across the grating, the chains, and the dark water beyond. Authority reasserted itself with voices and protocols and the illusion of control.
Relief should have come. It didn't. Because Maggie had spent enough time on this platform to understand what happened when something went wrong. Investigations started. Questions multiplied. And someone always needed to be blamed.
She forced herself to breathe. To think. To prepare. The lead security officer turned from Reece back to her, his expression unreadable in the harsh beam of his flashlight.
"Ms. Brooks, you said you received a direct message ordering you here?"
"Yes." Her voice came out steadier than she felt. "Security routing. Proper authentication. It told me to report to the west maintenance bay immediately."
"Why would security summon you to maintenance?"
"I don't know," Maggie said. "I assumed there was a systems issue. I came to respond." Not here. Not like this. But it had happened.
The officer's skepticism was immediate. "Alone? To maintenance?"
"I followed protocol. The message was authenticated," Maggie repeated. "I verified the credentials before responding."
Faces closed. Eyes sharpened with doubt.
Another officer stepped forward. "We'll need to see that message."
Relief spiked through her chest. "It's on my terminal. My tablet went over with me and landed on the grating."
They exchanged glances. Professional. Efficient. But something underneath made her stomach tighten.
"Let's go," the lead officer said.
They escorted her back through the platform. She had never felt smaller.
The corridors felt different now. Oppressive. Every system she understood suddenly felt like it was watching her with hostile intent.
They reached the operations level. Her desk sat exactly as she'd left it, terminal still active, screens still glowing with the diagnostic reports she'd been running before the message arrived.
Before everything had changed.
Maggie slid into her chair, fingers moving across the keyboard. Not with her usual practiced efficiency thanks to the raw, open skin on her palms. She pulled up her internal messaging system. Opened her DMs.
Scrolled.
Nothing.
Her breath caught.
She scrolled again. Slower this time. Checking timestamps. Looking for gaps in the message history.
Nothing. There was no message, no log, and no trace. The floor tilted beneath her.
"Ms. Brooks?" The lead officer's voice cut through her rising panic. "The message?"
"I …" She swallowed hard. "It was here. It was right here."
She opened the system logs. Pulled up authentication records. Searched for any trace of the security routing that had summoned her to the maintenance bay.
Nothing.
Her hands were shaking now. She hated that they were shaking. "I'm not lying," she said, her voice cracking despite her best efforts. "I received a message. Security routing. Authenticated credentials. I verified it before I went."
The officers exchanged glances. Not anger but assessment.
"Ms. Brooks," one of them said carefully, "have you been under a lot of stress lately?"
The question landed like a slap. "No," she said. "I mean, no more than usual. I followed protocol. I wouldn't have gone down there without instruction. I've never been to that section before. Why would I go there on my own?"
"Sometimes people make mistakes when they're tired," another officer suggested. "Miscommunication happens."
"This wasn't miscommunication," Maggie insisted. "Someone sent me that message. Someone ordered me to go there."
But even as she said it, she could hear how it sounded. Even to her own ears, she sounded desperate and paranoid.
"We'll include this in our report," the lead officer said. His tone was gentle and final. "In the meantime, you need to be checked out. Medical protocol."
"I'm fine," Maggie said.
"Your hands are torn up," One of the officers pointed out. "And you nearly fell off the platform. Medical protocol is a safe bet right now. You need to be checked out." She looked up at the man talking to her. Dexter Franks.
His eyes were friendly, and that undid her. Tears filled her eyes. “Yeah. Okay.”
They escorted her again. Different corridor. Same formation. Security on all sides.
Medical was on the residential level and staffed by professionals who smiled and spoke in calm tones designed to soothe. Maggie sat on the examination table while a nurse cleaned and bandaged her palms. The antiseptic stung. The gauze felt too tight.
Then Jonah Pike walked in. Why was he here? He smiled politely as if he were concerned.
"Maggie," he said. "I heard what happened. Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," Maggie said automatically.
"That must have been terrifying." He pulled up a chair, sitting at eye level with her. Friendly. Non-threatening. "Can you tell me what happened?"
She told him. About the DM. About the maintenance bay. About the wind and the chains and the hands that shoved her.
He listened. Really listened. His expression never changed from sympathetic concern.
Then he spoke, and his words were poison.
"Maggie, I want you to know that we take your safety very seriously.
But I have to be honest with you." He paused, choosing his words carefully.
"Security checked the logs. There's no record of any message being sent to you.
No authentication. No routing. Nothing."
"I know," Maggie said. "But I saw it. It was there."
"I believe you believe that," he said. And there it was. The careful distance between what she knew and what he was willing to accept. "But sometimes, when we're under pressure, when we're working long hours in an isolated environment, our minds can play tricks on us."
"My mind didn't—"
"Fatigue is serious," he continued, his voice still kind. Still reasonable. "You've been working extremely hard since you returned from leave. Maybe too hard. The brain needs rest. And when it doesn't get it, things can get … confusing."
Maggie realized with cold clarity that no one was on her side. Everyone who spoke to her knew more than they were saying. Everyone was measuring her. Assessing whether she was a problem that needed management.
"I'm not confused," she said quietly. "Someone tried to kill me."
Jonah’s expression flickered. Just for a moment. Something that might have been pity.
"Rest," he said, standing. "That's what you need. We'll make sure you have time to recover."
He left, leaving Maggie to sit alone in the medical bay, fluorescent lights humming overhead, scared with the understanding of what had just happened.
Her proof was gone. Her credibility was gone. Her certainty was being systematically dismantled.
She glimpsed Reece once. Across the corridor. Through the observation window. Neutral. Watching. Not intervening.
Because if he'd come to her, if he'd shown concern, if he'd done anything that suggested they knew each other beyond professional courtesy, it would destroy them both.
So, she watched him walk away and felt the isolation settle around her.
The nurse returned with sedatives she didn't want to take.
Documentation she needed to sign. Protocols that wrapped around her like a net.
Maggie lay back on the medical bed and stared at the ceiling.
Her tablet was gone. Broken on the grating below the maintenance bay.
Her message was gone. Erased from every system she could access.
Her certainty was crumbling under the weight of reasonable doubt and gentle suggestions that she was stressed, tired, and confused.
Only one thing remained abundantly clear.
Someone had wanted her in that maintenance bay.
Someone had pushed her over the edge. Now, someone wanted her to doubt herself.
To question her own memory. To stay silent.
The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, steady and relentless.
Maggie closed her eyes and made a decision.
She would not doubt herself, and she would stay silent until all of Darkwater’s secrets were exposed.