Elias knew the moment he stepped into the procedure wing that Mercer had changed the rules on him yet again.
The hallway outside Chamber Nine's ruins had smelled like burnt lubricant and hot metal. This place smelled like antiseptic and cold steel, like the old world pretending it still existed. The lights were brighter here too—not the harsh spill of emergency strips, but full panels laid into the ceiling, clean and steady. It made the air feel thinner, as if you could see through it to the bones of whatever decisions waited inside.
He walked between two soldiers, his ankle chain still on, and only his wrists free because Mercer wanted his hands useful. Their rifles didn't point at him, but the tension in their shoulders made it clear the muzzle could rise in a heartbeat. Elias didn't pretend not to notice. He also didn't let it slow his pace.
