Marcus slowly rose to his full height again, and for the first time since entering the prison, something cold settled visibly into his expression—not pity, not frustration, but suspicion that went deeper than simple obstinacy. Because this had gone beyond ordinary loyalty or even fear of consequences. Nobody protected secrets this completely unless something far worse waited behind those secrets, or unless they had been built specifically to die before speaking, programmed at a fundamental level to endure anything rather than reveal what they carried.
Thessian finally moved then, taking only one step forward. Yet the entire corridor seemed to tighten around that single movement, responding to a shift in his presence. The screaming quieted immediately into weak sobbing as the woman lifted terrified eyes toward him through the ruins of her face. He looked down at her silently for several moments, studying what remained, calculating something beneath that cold gaze.
