Chapter 29 Mila
Mila
Location: Unknown — Holding Facility
Time: Unknown
Pain comes first.
Not sharp.
Not sudden.
Slow.
Heavy.
Dragging me back to the surface like I’m being pulled through water.
I don’t move.
Don’t open my eyes.
Don’t breathe differently.
Because the first rule?
Never wake up blind.
Voices.
Distant.
Muted.
“…dosage was enough—”
“…she’s tougher than expected—”
“…Ford wants her conscious.”
Of course he does.
My fingers twitch slightly against the surface beneath me.
Cold.
Metal.
Wrists restrained.
Ankles too.
I test the tension.
Not enough to break.
Not yet.
My head pounds.
Vision flickering behind closed eyes.
Drug.
Fast-acting.
Still in my system.
Good.
That means they rushed.
That means they didn’t think they had to be careful.
That’s a mistake.
I inhale slowly.
Controlled.
Measured.
Then—
I open my eyes.
Dim lighting.
Concrete walls.
No windows.
Three cameras.
One in each corner.
One directly above.
Two guards.
Armed.
Watching.
And—
Him.
Ford leans against the far wall.
Arms crossed.
Like he’s been waiting.
“Welcome back,” he says.
I blink once.
Slow.
“You drug all your guests,” I murmur.
“Or am I special?”
One of the guards shifts.
Uncomfortable.
Ford?
Smiles.
Just slightly.
“You’re very special,” he says.
I tilt my head.
Ignoring the way the room sways slightly.
“Careful,” I reply.
“Starting to sound personal.”
He pushes off the wall.
Steps closer.
Every movement controlled.
Calculated.
Dangerous.
“You took something that destabilizes everything we’ve built,” he says.
“And you built it wrong,” I shoot back.
His gaze sharpens.
“For someone in your position,” he says quietly,
“you’re remarkably fearless.”
I meet his eyes.
Unblinking.
“No,” I say.
“Just realistic.”
A pause.
Then—
he nods once.
“Then let’s be realistic,” he says.
He reaches into his jacket.
Pulls out a tablet.
Turns it toward me.
Images flash across the screen.
Names.
Faces.
Locations.
The list.
My stomach tightens.
But my expression?
Doesn’t change.
“You think you stole power,” he says.
“You stole a map of something far bigger.”
“I know exactly what it is,” I reply.
“Do you?” he asks.
He taps the screen.
New images appear.
Children.
Facilities.
Transit routes.
My chest tightens—
just for a second.
He sees it.
Of course he does.
“That list doesn’t just expose us,” he says.
“It exposes them.”
My eyes flick back to his.
“Good,” I say.
Something dark flickers in his expression.
“You still think this ends with exposure,” he says.
“No,” I answer.
My voice drops.
Cold.
“I think it ends with you.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Charged.
Then—
he steps closer.
Close enough I can see every detail in his eyes.
“You’re not walking out of here,” he says quietly.
I smile.
Slow.
Deliberate.
“Neither are you.”
That—
That earns something.
A real reaction.
Not fear.
Interest.
“Is that confidence,” he asks,
“or a bluff?”
I lean back slightly against the restraints.
Relaxed.
Even now.
“Guess you’ll have to find out.”
He studies me for a long moment.
Then—
he nods once.
“To be continued,” he says.
And turns away.
The door shuts behind him.
The guards remain.
Watching.
Waiting.
I close my eyes again.
Just for a second.
Because now—
I have what I need.
Layout.
Numbers.
Timing.
And one more thing.
A slow breath leaves me.
“He’s coming,” I whisper.
Not hope.
Certainty.
My eyes open again.
Sharp now.
Focused.
And this time?
I start planning how to break out—
before he even gets here.