CHAPTER FIVE

I did not move when the door clicked shut behind her.

The sound carried the scraping of metal against stone, a low, final scrape that settled into the bones of the room and stayed there. I listened to the sound fade the way I listened to everything now, cataloguing, measuring, placing it where it belonged.

“Shit! How the hell did I have to mess it up”

“He wasn't meant to be awake. I had made sure he was asleep”

“I almost drove the knife through him” I rumbled “Just one night is all I planned to take out the killer of my sister, but now this. The one who had made me lose my only true companion in this world” I pressed on biting the tips of my nail.

For a moment I took a sharp breath.

In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Slow enough to steady the tremor that still lingered in my hands and keep my balance.

The cell seemed smaller than I had expected.

Not a dungeon. Not the kind of place The Covenant had trained us to endure. No chains were bolted to the walls, no instruments laid out in anticipation of use. Just four stone walls, nothing much nothing less. A narrow barred opening sits high enough that I would need to jump to reach it, and a single bench built and sitting into the far side like an afterthought.

Clean.

That was the first thing that felt out of place.

Clean, quiet, and entirely lacking in the kind of cruelty I had been preparing myself for since the moment her cover broke.

I pushed away from the door tardily and walked the perimeter once, slowly but precisely, each step calculated. Eight across. Six deep. I pressed my forefinger lightly but firmly against the seams where stone meets stone, testing for weakness, for looseness, for any little thing that could be exploited.

Nothing.

“Wouldn’t have expected that though” I said with a slight huff.

Instead, I crouched closer to the wall, studying the floor. No drag marks. No visible stain marks. No traces that anyone had been hurt here recently— or even at all.

Everything put in place shows its description “Holding Cell”. Not a “Punishment room”.

They had intended to keep me alive.

At least, for the time being.

I reeled back on my heels and let my eyes close for half a second.

“You are not a prisoner” I said softly.

“You are in place”

The thought settled into place in me with practiced precision, sliding over the instinctive tightening rising in my chest and locking it away before it could spread.

The Covenant had trained me perfectly for this.

Isolation.

Capture.

Interrogation.

Every possible scenario had been broken down, every question and response had been rehearsed, reinforced until my answers were no longer choices but reflexes.

We've been trained to observe, adapt, and survive.

Gradually, I opened my eyes again.

Time had passed. I could tell from the reflection of the sky peeking in through the barred opening, the shuffling sound of footsteps approaching and retreating the corridor beyond, and the subtle changes in sound that marked the movement within the compound.

It was… orderly.

That was the second thing that didn't seem fit.

I had expected chaos to erupt every millisecond.

Voices were carried occasionally, low and conversational. Not the raised, aggressive tones I had associated with packs. No shouting. No violence. Even the guards, the little I could hear of them, moved with a discipline closer to military than animal.

Not chaos.

Not savagery.

I leaned my back carefully against the wall, folding my arms loosely across my chest.

A performance.

It had to be.

Predators learn to mimic safety. It made their prey easier to manage.

The calculated sound of footsteps pulled my attention back to the door.

I stayed rooted to my spot without a stir. I didn’t look up either. I stayed exactly as I was — still, contained, controlled.

The bolt slid back with barely a loud screech.

The room opened just enough for a man to step through.

A man stepped inside. He is older, broad-shouldered, and maintains a steady movement.

He placed a tray on the floor between them.

The tray contained freshly baked bread and bottled water.

I glanced at it. Then at him.

I neither move nor touch it.

The man waited for a lingering minute, as if expecting something.

When nothing came, he turned and left.

The door closed behind him as the bolts knotted in place.

Then silence returned.

I let it stretch.

Five minutes.

Ten.

Hunger crept slowly, dull and persistent.

I ignored it.

“Weakness comes from poor decisions. Not from hunger.” I reassured myself.

Another ten minutes slipped by before I moved.

Slow. Deliberate.

I reached for the tray and tugged it closer.

I ate methodically. No rush. No sign of urgency. Just enough to help me maintain function.

Nothing more.

When I finished, I pushed the tray carefully back in place, then wiped my hands against the low calves of my trousers.

I leaned my head back against the wall and allowed my thoughts to resurface.

Ryker's voice surfaced first;

“You don't know what your sister was” he had said.

I ground my teeth as my jaw tightened.

“That bastard, he thought I wouldn't know what manipulation is”

Clean. Precise. Designed to destabilize.

I had been trained to recognize it even at the slightest pace.

“Mia was definitely not what he said she was”

“Mia was— “

My thoughts stalled.

Just for a beat of a second.

My eyes opened.

No.

I did not follow that.

I do not need to follow that.

“The truth was already known. Already fixed”

“Everything else is merely a noise,” I said to myself reassuringly, dodging any lingering thoughts or illusions.

And yet…. when I listen to the compound beyond my cell–

The quiet. The order. The absence of chaos.

“Something doesn't align” my instinct keeps pricking.

I closed my eyes again.

And this time, the silence feels heavier.