The room they put me in was small. Concrete floor. Single metal chair bolted to the ground. One fluorescent light buzzing overhead. A camera in the corner with a red blinking light.
No windows.
I stood in the center and turned slowly. Took it all in. The bare walls. The locked door. The complete absence of anything I could use as a weapon or tool.
My pulse was still racing. Hands still shaking. I pressed them flat against my stomach again — that compulsive movement I couldn't stop, checking, reassuring, protecting.
She kicked. I exhaled.
Still okay. We're still okay.
The door opened.
Lucien entered. Alone. No guards. Just him in his perfectly tailored suit with that same patient smile, carrying a bottle of water and a protein bar like this was a hotel room and not a prison.
He set them on the floor near the chair. Gestured.
"Sit. Please."
I didn't move.
He sighed. Not annoyed. Just... resigned. Like he'd expected this.
