Damian had stopped breathing the moment he heard those words.
Not from fear, not from exhaustion, but from pure rage, the kind that rises like poison and kills you from the inside if you don't let it out.
He stood in the command room, among other officers, when the doors opened.
The man who entered was not a soldier, not a merchant, not a politician.
He was something else. A presence that silenced everyone. Even the air seemed to freeze.
The Observer.
He wasn't tall or imposing, but he carried that stillness only those who have seen too much darkness possess. His eyes were cold, two pools of steel. No emotion. No hesitation.
The soldiers straightened at once. The general removed his cap and lowered his head slightly.
Damian didn't move. His arms were crossed, his face unreadable.
Inside, though, something was howling.
The Observer walked to the center of the room. He didn't greet anyone. Didn't give his name. He simply laid a folder on the table and spoke, his voice a slow, precise cut through the air: "The female subject will be assessed for the private use of the Counselor."
Damian felt his pulse pounding in his temples.
The general asked, his tone struggling to stay steady, what exactly the "assessment" involved.
The Observer looked at him with the slow indifference of a predator.
"Endurance. Compliance. Response to fear and pain."
"My superior will ensure she meets all expectations… before the deal is finalized."
Damian's blood turned to ice. Every word was a blade. Every syllable an insult to everything he'd begun to feel for that girl.
Naiara.
He pictured her, locked in that white room, unaware of the monsters circling her.
His body trembled almost imperceptibly, but he hid it, hands clasped tightly behind his back.
The Observer continued, unbothered.
"Move her to the auxiliary room. No cameras. The Counselor doesn't want witnesses."
No cameras. No supervision. No proof.
Damian took a step back to keep himself from snapping in front of everyone.
His throat burned; his hands tingled.
It would take one second, just one, to crush that man's throat, but doing so now would ruin everything.
Including her.
"Captain?" the Observer asked, turning toward him.
"Is there a problem?"
Damian lifted his gaze, his voice calm, deadly quiet: "No, sir. Just one question. Why such… extreme tests?"
The man looked at him, and a faint smile crept across his lips, a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"To satisfy my employer's every fantasy."
That sentence. That single, hideous sentence.
It shattered whatever part of Damian was still intact.
He lowered his gaze, pretending submission.
No one saw his hands shaking.
When he left the command room, the hallway felt narrower, the air heavier.
He knew he had almost no time left.
Almost none.
He had to wait for the perfect moment, after the "visit," when everyone would be focused on the guest.
That would be his only chance to move.
His only chance to get her out.
But he also knew one more thing: even if he died trying, it would be better than standing by.
Meanwhile, in the isolated room, Naiara was escorted away in silence.
The hands on her arms were firm but eerily respectful, the kind of respect one gives to something valuable, not someone human.
The lighting was dim.
The Observer adjusted a tablet on the desk, and a voice: distant, filtered through static, filled the room.
"Is the girl present?"
"She's here, sir," the Observer replied.
Silence.
Then a tone that froze her blood: "Look her in the eyes. I want to see if she understands who's in control."
At first, she didn't understand. But her body did. A chill ran down her spine.
Her heart was pounding so loudly it nearly drowned out the voice on the screen.
"You still don't understand, do you?"
"I want you. You're already mine."
A terrible, echoing laugh followed, and then the call ended with a cold click, leaving behind an unnatural silence.
Naiara stayed motionless, her hands trembling as the Observer left the room, ordering the guards to seal the door.
Outside, Damian pressed his forehead against the cold wall. His breathing was uneven; his thoughts burned.
He knew exactly what he had to do.
And he knew there was no more time.
"Hold on, Tigna," he muttered through clenched teeth.
"I'll get you out of here. Even if I have to burn this place to the ground."