KAIREN
The door locked behind them with a sound like a coffin sealing.
I sat on the edge of the cot, knees pulled to my chest, arms wrapped around my shins like I could hold myself together through sheer physical compression. My gaze was fixed on the grey concrete floor, on the exact spot where Mr. Sterling had stood when he'd held up that photograph.
Aisha.
The image was burned into my retinas. Her face. Clear. Unmistakable. Not a victim. Not a prisoner. Just... her. Standing in a conference room with men in tactical gear, a tablet in her hand, her expression calm and professional.
It's a lie.
The thought looped in my mind, a desperate mantra. It had to be a lie. A manipulation. A test designed to break me, to turn me against the only person in my father's world who'd ever shown me kindness.
They doctored it. They had to. The angle was too perfect. The lighting too staged. It could be from a different operation. She could have been under duress. Blackmailed. Threatened.
