She had stopped screaming somewhere along the way. She didn't know where. At least, she didn't hear it anymore.
But the cold was still there. A humming cold that tapped at her skin and made her shiver. There was pain too, insistent, in her wrists and ankles.
She focused on it, on the bite of plastic restraints and steel wire cutting into her skin, and tried to pull herself through the pain.
"Fuck," she cursed.
It helped. The pain centered her. The disconnection crept away, and her eyes opened.
To white.
A dead white, like everything living had been sanded down and erased. She swallowed and let her gaze drift, slow and unsteady, until it found the lone gate, the camera, and—
Her eyes froze.
Heylel.
Her breathing thinned. Her heart jumped. Then jumped again. A second passed before she understood what was wrong.
She couldn't breathe.
She was hyperventilating.
Heylel didn't move. He only tilted his head, settling deeper into his chair.
Black dots bloomed at the edges of her vision. The white began to collapse in on itself—
Warmth seized her head.
A burning current flooded through her, forced her vision to steady, forced the black back into white. She gasped, air tearing into her lungs.
Red.
Red in his eyes.
She jerked against the restraints as the warmth vanished, as she saw his hand withdrawing, already retreating.
"I have some questions."
Questions?
The word felt absurd to her. Now? Questions? There was a rage in her blood. A rage that screamed. That wanted to maul him—she saw his red.
She froze. Her breathing fell. It came in short, uneven pulls.
The anger was stillborn.
"We found the cable lines. Intelligent work running communications through them."
Heylel drew his hand to her head. Tapping it, right where the arch of her headset would be.
She flinched when she realised it wasn't there.
"And we found designs."
Her throat felt heavy, it felt wretched, like she was swallowing sand.
"Just some sketches."
She felt his finger hard against her skin, it was cold, almost steel cold. Like it were a nail.
"Sketches of explosive shells?"
"We need them at the docks and to fight."
Her skin broke, and blood burned below his fingers.
"I didn't see them at the docks. You would have used them on me."
The pain ate at her.
"You are selling the designs."
Almost flooding out of her, "No!" She bit her lips. Too fast.
Something like a smile touched his face. It didn't reach his eyes. Blood trailed down to her nose to her lips.
"Intelligent you might be. You can't make ammunition, guns at your shacks. Nor can you make those explosives. That needs industry."
Then what did he want?
"But the question is, who is buying?"
"If I tell you," she said hoarsely, "You will kill me."
"Maybe, maybe not." He said, "But if you don't, I will hand over you and your dead buddies to the Vale authorities."
Blood streaked her cheeks.
Vale.
She laughed. A thin, broken sound that surprised even her.
"You think they don't already know about us?" she said. "You think we've survived this long without being on someone's list?"
"Oh, I'm sure they know of you," he said. "What they didn't have is proof. Maybe names. Something we can give them."
He leaned closer, voice dropping.
"You would be amazed at how harsh Vale is to anyone related to terrorists making bombs."
Her fingers curled against the restraints. Her pulse thudded in her ears, loud enough to drown thought.
"They're not my people," she said.
"Then whose people are they?"
"I don't know."
Heylel removed his hand.
"And?"
"They are middle men. They approached us and we needed money."
Heylel laughed, "You sell explosive designs to people who would do Brothers' know what and call me a monster?"
Her jaw tightened.
"We didn't sell weapons," she said. "We sold ideas."
Heylel's laughter cut off.
A clean stop. Like a switch thrown.
"Lie better next time." He said softly.
He stepped closer again. Not touching her this time. Worse.
"They were going to build…" She bit her lips, "Something anyway," she said. "If not from us, then from someone dumber. Sloppier."
"And that makes it better? You don't know who they are. You don't know where they operate. And you don't know what they intend to hit."
He leaned down until his eyes were level with hers.
"So tell me," he said quietly, "what exactly do you tell yourself to sleep at night?"
She stared back at him, defiant despite the tremor in her chest.
"We bought time," she said.
His eyes flickered.
"Survival," he said.
"Yes," she snapped.
For a moment, the room held its breath.
"And?"
Her eyes fell, "I don't know their names."
"You don't know their names," he said. "Fine. Then you tell me how they found you."
There was a trembling in her, a deep, wretched trembling.
"Because no one stumbles onto a dock cell with custom munitions designs by accident."
Her silence stretched.
Heylel nodded once.
"Good," he said. "Then we're finally asking the right question."
———
——
—
When Heylel walked out of the white room, the one to greet him first was Andrew. His eyes fixed on Heylel's finger. The one with blood.
Heylel didn't mind, Andrew did, so he tossed him a wet towel, "You know, you didn't have to make her bleed."
The smell hit Heylel then, antiseptic. Rubbing it against his finger he removed the blood and tossed it into the trashcan next to the door.
Then their gazes leveled. Black met black, "It wasn't for play."
Andrew drew close, pulling a hand on his shoulder, "I know. Still, you should learn to show more restraint."
Heylel breathed deep, "I will try."
Andrew's eyes flicked to Heylel's hand again, just once, before he looked away. He nodded, turning on his heel, "Let's go."
The tiles clicked with each step. But the clicking increased. It was then Heylel noticed the medics turning the corner and rushing past them, "So, you got anything new from her?"
"A lot of people enter the docks everyday, Heylel. It was simply not reasonable to trace all of them. But now we have clear targets."
"Right," Heylel nodded, "Where are we going?"
Andrew threw Heylel a look, "Take a guess."
The younger rolled his eyes as they rounded the corner. "Father?"
A chuckle blew past him. Andrew pulled his hands into his jacket, sliding them into his side pockets. "It's not always him."
"Yes or no?"
"Yes and no."
Heylel's lips fell to a flat line, "Are you really doing this?"
Then he saw his elder's head turn, and saw his eyes. Andrew winked. "You are so annoying sometimes," Heylel sighed.
"I can be if I want to be."
When he said it, they were at the stairs and past it, they exited into the estate proper. As a pair of staff bowed and walked past.
They knew what was going on down there, maybe not exactly but they had an idea. Still none ever spoke. "Father is amazing sometimes."
"Horrifying, more like."
They kept walking and into one of the many corridors, "There isn't any horror for us."
Andrew laughed softly. "Of course not. When the monster under the bed is your flesh and blood, he stops being frightening."
"Sorry."
The words rooted Andrew. He froze. And in an instant black had met black again.
There was a burning in the eyes that reflected Heylel's. Anger.
But the eyes that reflected Andrew's were cold. As cold as they have always been.
"You aren't."
Heylel didn't look away. "No. I am not."
Andrew exhaled through his teeth. Then he turned and walked. Letting Heylel follow.
Follow Heylel did.
To the doors that lead out.
There he stopped again. Letting a breath live between them.
"Heylel," He said, "Don't try to lie again."
Andrew took a step and the door opened to the sides without any command.
"Not to me."
And he stepped out.
The door slid shut. In its metal sheen Heylel saw himself.
And he saw what he always did. What he has always seen. He saw the back eyes of Heylel Task.
What did his brother see?
Heylel sighed and moved forward.
The door slid open and closed again. And Andrew was in a car down the gate.
Waiting for him to follow.