The hallway to the van was long but not complicated.
Concrete walls. Cameras on the ceiling. A yellow line on the floor near the loading area.
Ariel walked in the middle of four guards. Arlo walked ahead of her. Reed waited near the van, watching everything like it was a show made just for him.
Her wrists hurt from the cuffs. Her heart was beating too fast, but her mind was clear.
Mara's rules were loud in her head:
Don't wait for Arlo.
Watch the building.
Take the crack if it opens.
As they walked, Ariel listened more than she looked.
She heard the hum of the lights, the soft buzz of cameras turning, the low sound of the van's engine.
They reached the transfer bay. The air smelled like oil and cold metal. A gray armored van stood near the open door, ready. Two more guards waited near the ramp. Reed leaned on a pillar, smiling.
"Here we are," he said. "Field trip time."
Ariel did not answer. She just stared at the van and kept breathing.
Reed talked to Arlo, taunting him.
He warned that if anything "strange" happened with the doors or the cameras, he would blame Arlo first. The guards laughed. Arlo only said, "Understood," in a flat voice.
Then they started the last walk: only a few steps from the hallway to the ramp.
Ariel counted them in her head.
Ten meters.
There was a small side door on the right, no label, with a green light over the handle.
Eight meters.
A camera above the bay door moved slowly, watching them.
Six.
The air felt heavier. Ariel's skin prickled like it did before the lock in the cell had clicked wrong.
Four.
The lights flickered.
Not much. Just a quick dip. But Ariel heard it,the tiny click from the side door. The same doubtful sound the cell lock had made. For a split second, the green light above it blinked.
This is it, she thought.
She moved.
Ariel threw her body to the side, toward the small door. The guard on her right shouted and grabbed for her, but her weight was already hitting the metal. The lock let go just in time. The door gave way and opened a little.
She pushed harder and stumbled inside.
Boxes were stacked in the dark room. The air was dusty and cold.
Behind her, guards yelled.
"Hold her!"
"Door!"
Arlo followed her in on the swing of the door. From outside, it probably looked like he was dragging her back.
Inside, he blocked the doorway for a second, using his body to hold the door half‑shut.
"Shut that thing!" someone yelled from the bay. "Don't let her—"
"Then don't leave it half‑open!" Arlo snapped back, still playing the angry warden.
His hand was tight on Ariel's arm.
His voice dropped so low only she could hear.
"This is it," he said. "Back wall. Floor vent. Crawl. It connects to the waste line. It's tight. It's filthy. But it gets you out of this level."
Ariel's heart slammed in her chest.
"You made that?" she whispered.
"Reed thinks it's his system," Arlo said. "He's wrong. But after today, he'll fix every weak point. You don't get a second chance."
The door shook as someone on the outside tried to force it fully open.
Reed's voice came through, sharper now.
"Enough playing, Arlo. Pull her out. If you don't move, my men shoot."
Ariel looked at Arlo in the dim light.
"You killed Berry," she said. The words were simple, but they hurt going out.
His jaw tightened.
"Yes," he said. No excuses.
"I broke you on purpose."
Her eyes burned. One tear slid down.
"We choose us," she whispered, thinking of Chris and Mara, of rule four.
Arlo gave one short nod.
"Then move," he said. "Door or cage."
His fingers squeezed her arm once, then shoved her deeper into the room, toward the back wall.
The door slammed harder against his shoulder.
Outside, boots pounded and guns shifted.
Ariel turned away from him and ran for the back, searching the floor for a small metal grate,the vent, the real exit—that might be the only chance she and the people she loved would ever get.
Ariel found the vent at the back of the small room.
It was low to the floor, half‑hidden behind dusty boxes. The metal grate was screwed in but not welded. Someone had worked on it before. Someone who knew what they were doing.
Arlo.
Her pulse raced. Her hands were shaking.
She dropped to her knees and turned her shoulder so her cuffed wrists could reach the screws. Her skin burned where the metal cut in, but she kept going, using the chain like a hook to drag and twist.
Behind her, Arlo was still at the door, holding it with his weight and his voice.
"Hold the line!" he shouted at the guards. "You want Reed to see a gap on the cameras? You explain it to him, not me."
To them, he sounded angry and cold.
To her, his words were cover.
One screw came loose. Then the second.
Her mind was a mess of pain and questions.
He killed Berry.
He broke me on purpose.
Now he's helping me escape?
Was it worth it? she thought bitterly.
All those words. All that cruelty. Destroying me in that cell, just to do…this?
If he had told her the truth earlier, would she have believed him?
If he had been kind, would Reed have seen through him faster?
Her chest hurt.
She didn't know which version of him to hate.
She yanked the last screw free. The grate dropped with a soft clink.
The vent behind it was dark and narrow. The air that came out was cold and foul.
This is it, she told herself. You wanted a crack. This is the crack.
She started to push herself forward but stopped, just for a second.
"Arlo," she said, voice low and rough. "What if they kill you for this?"
There was no time for a long answer.
No time for a speech.
For a moment, the noise outside dipped,like the whole room held its breath.
Arlo didn't turn.
He leaned harder into the door, muscles straining, keeping the gap small so the guards couldn't see inside properly.
"If they kill me," he said, voice flat and calm, "then I die doing one thing right."
The words hit her like a slap.
No I'm sorry.
No I'll be fine.
No promise to come back.
Just that.
He wasn't asking her to stay. He wasn't asking her to choose him.
He was choosing the job, the risk, and the fact that maybe this one act wouldn't erase what he'd done—but it would be the only part of him she could walk away with that wasn't pure poison.
Something in her heart went cold and quiet.
She had spent so long wanting him to be the man who came back for her.
Now he was saying, in the simplest way possible, that his life was the price of opening this door—and he was willing to pay it without expecting anything from her.
"Then don't waste it," he added, still not looking at her. "Crawl, Ariel."
Her throat closed.
She stopped waiting for a softer line that would never come.
Without another word, Ariel slid into the vent,angry, shaking, still unsure if she should ever forgive him, but knowing one thing very clearly:
If he died here, it would be on his terms.
If she lived, it had to be on hers.
Inside the cell, the silence felt heavy.
Chris couldn't sit anymore.
He kept walking from one wall to the other, turning, walking back. His steps were sharp and restless.
"They should've reached the bay by now," he muttered. "If they touch her,if he touches her—"
"Chris," Mara said.
He didn't stop.
"He walked her out like she was nothing," Chris went on. "Like we're nothing. I should've— I should've gone for his throat when the door opened."
"You'd be unconscious on the floor," Mara said. "And she'd still be gone."
He hit the wall with his palm, then leaned his forehead against it, breathing hard.
"What if this is like last time?" he asked quietly. "What if he's taking her to another chair, another room, and we're just sitting here counting camera sweeps?"
Mara was sitting on the bench, but her posture was tight. She wasn't relaxed; she was thinking.
Her eyes were on the ceiling vent. Her lips moved, counting.
"One‑and‑two… sweep. Pause. One‑and‑two‑and‑three… sweep back," she whispered.
Chris turned to look at her.
"You're still timing," he said.
"Of course," she answered. "We said we would be ready if the building hiccuped again."
He dragged a hand through his hair.
"What if that glitch was just bad wiring?" he said. "What if we're waiting for a miracle from a broken door and she's out there alone with—"
He stopped, jaw tight.
"With him," Mara finished for him.
The word hung there.
She kept staring at the vent.
"The vent changed when the lock did," she said slowly. "Remember? That welding buzz, and the click at the door at the same time? And today,before they came,everything felt… off. Two glitches in one day, and both around us."
"So?" Chris snapped. "Buildings break. Tech fails. Reed's a show‑off, maybe he likes bad wiring."
Mara shook her head.
"No," she said. "Reed likes control. Jen likes control. They don't let things glitch this close to their favorite toy unless someone is making it glitch."
She fell quiet for a second.
Chris frowned.
"Say what you're thinking," he said. "All of it."
Mara's fingers tapped against her arm, a steady beat.
"Who has access to maintenance requests?" she asked. "Who can order welders, change camera labels, write 'temporary blind spot' in the system and get it approved?"
"Staff," Chris said. "Techs. Security. Jen. Reed."
"And who," Mara continued, "stood in this corridor, staring at that vent like it was the only thing keeping him alive?"
Chris's breathing slowed.
"Johnson," he said.
Mara nodded once.
"Who made a big show of 'locking us down'," she went on, "and somehow the only side effect of all that work was that our lock started doubting itself?"
Chris stared at her.
"You're saying this is him?" he asked. "The glitch, the vent, all of it—that's Arlo?"
She met his eyes.
"I'm saying it fits," she replied. "He's the one with his hands in the building's veins. The only one with enough access and enough motive to chip at the cage without Reed noticing right away."
Chris's mouth twisted.
"Motive," he said bitterly. "You mean guilt?"
"I mean conflict," Mara said. "He's trying to be their monster and our problem at the same time. People like that leak. They leave cracks."
Chris started pacing again, slower now.
"So all the things he said to her," he said, "all the ways he cut her down—"
"Could still be real," Mara cut in. "He hurt her. On purpose. He chose to be the hand that did it."
Her voice hardened.
"I'm not forgiving that because he knows how to write scripts," she said. "I'm not handing him a halo because the locks shake when he breathes on them."
She looked back at the vent.
"But if the one trying to break us is also the one breaking the system," she went on softly, "then pretending it's random is stupid. The pattern is him."
Chris rubbed his face.
"So he walked her out there," he said, "and you're telling me the same man who called her a sedative is the reason the door clicked?"
"Yes," Mara said. "I think that's exactly what's happening."
He let out a rough laugh that wasn't amused at all.
"That's insane," he said. "That's— That's exactly the kind of thing she would've believed before he ripped her apart."
Mara's gaze sharpened.
"And that's why I'm the one saying it now," she replied. "Not her. Not you. Me."
She stood up and moved closer to the door.
"If Arlo Johnson is the glitch," she said, laying her hand flat on the cold metal, "then every time this place stutters, that's him talking. Not with words. With hardware. With risk."
She closed her eyes for a second, as if listening.
"Which means," she whispered, "if Ariel gets even half a chance out there, he'll be standing in the blast radius when she takes it."
Chris swallowed.
"So what do we do?" he asked. "We can't help her from in here."
Mara opened her eyes.
"We stay ready," she said. "If she gets away because of something he did, they'll tighten everything on this floor. Change patrols. Change vents. Change us."
Her hand slid from the door to the wall, fingers tracing the line where the lock sat hidden.
"And if he dies for it," she added quietly, "I want to know that the crack he opened on this side doesn't go to waste."
Chris stared at her.
"You really think he'd die for that?" he asked.
Mara's jaw tightened.
"I think he's already decided what he's worth," she said. "The question is whether we decide we're worth more than his worst choices."
She looked up at the vent one more time.
"So yes," she said. "It's him. He's been trying to plan the escape since the moment he put us all in one cage."
Chris sank down onto the bench, chest tight.
"For her," he said.
"For all of us," Mara corrected. "Whether we ever forgive him or not is a different problem."
She went back to counting the camera sweeps, heart racing, mind fixed on one sharp, dangerous hope:
If the building twitched again, maybe it would mean Ariel was still out there, running through a crack an arrogant monster had carved with his own hands.
Reed finds out
The alarm didn't sound like a normal alert.
It was short and sharp, then cut off fast,like the building was embarrassed it had failed.
In the control room, a tech stared at his screen.
"Sir," he said, voice tight. "Transfer bay camera just lost visual on the subject. Door log shows a side access opened during the walk. We've got—"
"A what?" Reed asked.
He was suddenly very calm.
"An unplanned door, sector twelve, near the bay," the tech said, swallowing. "Lock status went unconfirmed for three seconds. When it came back… Ariel Smith is gone."
The room seemed to shrink.
Jen's eyes narrowed. "Run that again," she said. "Slow."
On the main screen, grainy footage played: Ariel breaking to the right, the door giving way, Arlo pushing in after her, guards shouting, bodies blocking the view.
Then static at the gap.
By the time the picture cleared, the supply room door was shut, Ariel was nowhere in sight, and Arlo was standing there, chest heaving, blood on his cheek where a rifle butt must've clipped him in the struggle.
He looked straight up at the camera.
Reed smiled without humor.
"There it is," he said softly. "Our glitch in human form."
Jen's jaw clenched.
"You think he did this on purpose?" she asked.
Reed pointed at the screen.
"Door opens during a timed power dip," he said. "The same sector that's been 'hiccuping' all day. The same brother who asked very nicely why we were moving our favorite lever. You want to call that a coincidence?"
Jen didn't answer.
She didn't have to.
"Bring him in," Reed told security. "And clear a window in front of cell twelve. If the rat wants to chew holes in my walls, we'll show his friends what happens to rats."
Arlo is taken
They pulled Arlo out of the corridor like he was any other disobedient staff member.
No fight. No yelling.
Just two guards clamping cuffs on his wrists and marching him to a room with drains in the floor and hooks in the ceiling.
When Jen came in, she didn't look angry.
She looked tired.
"You know what I hate?" she asked, circling him as they strapped him to a metal chair. "Not failure. People fail. I hate being made to look stupid in my own building."
Arlo's lip was split. There was dried blood at his temple. He didn't speak.
"You walked her to the van," Jen said. "You were the only variable. And now my keystone is somewhere in the walls, and Reed is humming in my ear about how clever you are."
She stopped in front of him.
"Tell me where you sent her," she said quietly. "Do that, and maybe this stays between us."
Arlo met her eyes.
"If she's still inside," he said, voice rough, "your system will find her."
"That's not an answer," Jen replied.
"It's the only one you're getting," he said.
Something cold slid over her face.
"Then we're done talking," she said.
She stepped back.
"Make it loud," Reed said from the doorway. "We have an audience to impress."
Brought in front of the cell
Chris and Mara heard Arlo before they saw him.
Boots. A drag. A choked breath that sounded like someone trying not to make a sound.
The locks on their door slid open.
Two guards stood there with rifles. A third held a control tablet. Behind them, in the corridor, another pair dragged Arlo by his arms.
He was still in his suit, but it was ripped now, soaked dark at one shoulder. His face was a mess of bruises and blood. One eye was almost swollen shut. His wrists were cuffed in front this time, and there were marks on them like he'd fought the restraints until the skin broke.
They stopped him right in front of the cell door, close enough that Chris could see every breath shake his chest.
Mara stood up slowly.
"What is this?" Chris demanded, stepping forward until the guards aimed at him.
"Show and tell," Reed said lightly, appearing at Arlo's side.
He looked very clean next to him. No marks. No blood. Only a bright, sharp smile.
"In case there was any confusion about cause and effect," Reed went on, "this is what happens when someone inside this floor tries to cheat."
He grabbed a fistful of Arlo's hair and forced his head up so he had to look at the cell.
"Say hi," Reed murmured.
Arlo's gaze dragged to the small window.
For a second, silence pressed on everything.
Chris stared at him, shock mixing with fury.
"You," Chris breathed. "What did you do?"
Arlo's mouth twitched like he wanted to smile and couldn't quite manage it.
"She ran," he said, voice hoarse. "That's what matters."
Reed's grip tightened.
"Wrong answer," he said.
He let go of Arlo's hair and stepped aside with a small nod to the guards.
One of them swung a baton hard into Arlo's ribs.
The crack echoed in the corridor.
Arlo's body jerked. A sharp sound broke from his throat, half‑cut off as he sucked for air.
Chris flinched like he'd been hit too.
"Stop," Chris snapped, slamming his palms against the glass. "You want to hurt someone, hurt me. He's the one who—"
"The one who opened the door?" Reed cut in. "Yes. That's why he's out here."
Another blow landed, this time across Arlo's shoulder. He bit down on the pain, jaw clenched, but his skin went gray around the edges.
Mara's fingers dug into the edge of the bench.
"Reed," she said, forcing her voice to stay even. "If you break him, you break your own system. He's the one who built half your toys."
Reed glanced at her through the glass.
"That's the beauty of it," he said. "If he survives, he remembers his place. If he doesn't, I get to rebuild without the bug in the code."
He turned back to Arlo.
"You helped her, didn't you?" he asked softly, almost curious. "Little tilt of a door. Little glitch in a lock. Did you think I wouldn't trace the fingerprints?"
Arlo spat blood to the side.
"She walked herself," he rasped. "You just trained her too well."
Reed smiled, slow and cruel.
"Hit him again," he told the guards.
The baton came down across Arlo's thigh.
This time he couldn't hold back the sound. It tore out of him raw, a hoarse cry that made Chris's stomach twist.
"Stop it!" Chris shouted. "She's not here, is she? You lost her! That's on you, not—"
Reed slammed his hand against the glass, cutting him off.
"On him," Reed said, jabbing a finger toward Arlo. "He opened the crack. He thinks I don't know it."
He leaned closer to the window, eyes bright.
"So watch closely," he told Chris and Mara. "Every time one of you even thinks about following her example, remember this is what your 'monster' looks like when his tricks fail."
Another hit. This one low, ugly, into Arlo's already bruised side.
His knees buckled. Only the guards' grip kept him from collapsing.
Mara's jaw clenched so hard it hurt.
Chris's eyes burned.
"Why?" Chris shouted at Arlo. "Why would you do this for her after everything you—"
Arlo forced his head up again.
His good eye found Chris's through the glass.
"Because she ran," he said, each word slow and broken, "and you're still watching."
Reed laughed once.
"Still talking," he said. "Let's fix that."
He nodded.
A guard drove a fist into Arlo's stomach. Air left him in a harsh, cut‑off gasp. His head dropped. This time, he didn't look back up right away.
The sound of the baton against bone and concrete echoed down the hallway.
Inside the cell, Chris slammed his fists against the wall until his knuckles bled. Mara stood very still, eyes hard, forcing herself to watch every second.
She needed to remember this.
Reed wanted this to be fear.
But to her, beneath the horror, it was proof of one thing:
Ariel had escaped enough that Reed was this angry.
And Arlo Johnson was paying the price for opening the crack that had let her run.
Here's a next scene that leans more into emotion, still in simple language.
After Reed left
The beating didn't stop right away when Reed walked off.
He gave one last bored look at Arlo, then at the cell, and flicked his fingers.
"That's enough for now," he said. "I want him alive when Jen has questions."
The guards dropped Arlo to his knees.
His hands were still cuffed. He tried to catch himself, but his body was too slow. His shoulder hit the floor first. He hissed in pain, teeth clenched.
Chris pressed his forehead to the glass, breathing hard.
"Arlo," he called, voice shaking. "Look at me."
For a moment, Arlo didn't move. His chest rose and fell in shallow, painful breaths. There was blood at the corner of his mouth, on his shirt, on the floor.
Mara stepped up beside Chris.
"Hey," she said, steady but soft. "Johnson. Don't you dare pass out now."
Slowly, Arlo turned his head.
His good eye focused on the window.
He looked terrible. Broken. But there was a tiny, stubborn spark still there, buried under all the pain.
"You satisfied?" he croaked. "You wanted proof I'm not your hero."
Chris's eyes filled with tears he tried to blink away.
"Idiot," Chris said. "You think this makes you less guilty? You think one suicide mission cancels everything you did to her?"
Arlo's mouth twisted.
"No," he said. "Nothing cancels that."
His voice was rough, but honest.
Mara swallowed.
"But you still did it," she said. "You still opened the door."
A tiny breath of air that could've been a laugh left him.
"Couldn't exactly watch him march her into another cage," he muttered. "I broke her enough for one lifetime."
The words hurt Chris more than another punch.
He slammed his fist lightly against the glass.
"You think she's going to forgive you for this?" he demanded. "You think she's going to hear about you getting beaten up and suddenly say, 'Oh, never mind, it's okay he killed Berry and wrecked my life'?"
Arlo's eyelids fluttered.
"I don't want her forgiveness," he said quietly.
That stopped both of them.
Mara frowned.
"Then what do you want?" she asked.
He was quiet for a second.
When he spoke, his voice was barely more than a whisper.
"I want her to live," he said. "Preferably far away from me."
His throat worked as he swallowed blood.
"If the only thing I can give her that actually means something is a clean exit," he added, "then she can keep the rest. The hate, the anger. She earned it."
Chris's chest ached.
"Why now?" he asked. "Why not before? Why wait until she's half dead inside to grow a conscience?"
Arlo shut his eyes for a moment, like the question physically hurt.
"Because I thought I could carry it," he said. "All of it. Reed's plans. Jen's games. My revenge. I thought I could be the bad guy and still… keep her separate."
He let out a harsh breath.
"There's no separate," he said. "I dragged her into the same fire I was already in. Berry was the match. She was the fuel."
The hallway was quiet except for the humming lights and his ragged breathing.
Mara leaned her head against the glass, just for a second, eyes closed.
"You know what the worst part is?" she said softly. "If you had told her this before,if you had shown her even five percent of this honesty,she would've tried to save you too."
Arlo flinched.
"Exactly," he said.
He opened his eyes again, looked at them straight.
"And Reed would've used that until there was nothing left of her."
Mara's throat tightened.
"So you used yourself instead," she said.
He gave a small, tired nod.
"Not exactly a noble trade," he said. "Just… delayed damage."
A moment hung between them, heavy and strange.
Pain and anger and something almost like pity, all twisted together.
Chris wiped his face with the back of his hand.
"If you die," he said, voice low, "I'm still going to hate you."
Arlo's lips moved like he was trying to smile.
"Good," he breathed. "You should."
Chris's next words came out softer.
"But I'll also tell her you tried," he said. "Not because you deserve it. Because she deserves to know the whole truth."
Arlo's eyes shone for a second with something raw.
Fear. Relief. Grief. All of it.
"Don't make me into something I'm not," he managed. "Tell her… tell her I knew what I was doing when I chose Berry. When I chose revenge. Don't let her think I was helpless. I wasn't."
His voice cracked.
"But if you want," he added, "you can tell her I didn't let Reed have the last move."
Mara's hand pressed flat to the glass, right in front of his broken shoulder.
"Fine," she said. "We'll tell her that."
Footsteps echoed down the hall.
Jen's voice, cool and clipped: "Get him up. Medical bay, then back to holding. I'm not done asking questions."
The guards grabbed Arlo under the arms again.
He bit back a groan as they dragged him upright.
Before they pulled him away, he looked at Chris and Mara one last time.
"Make sure she doesn't come back for me," he said, almost begging. "If she's smart, she keeps running."
Chris nodded once, jaw tight.
"We'll make sure she chooses us," he said. "Not you."
For the first time, the line didn't sound like a knife.
It sounded like a promise Arlo wanted them to keep.
They hauled him down the corridor.
The cell door slammed shut.
Inside, Chris sank onto the bench, shaking. Mara sat beside him, shoulders touching, both of them staring at the door like they could still see the blood on the other side.
"Do you think she made it?" Chris whispered.
Mara swallowed hard.
"She has to," she said. "Because if she didn't, all of this,what he did, what we're doing,becomes just pain."
Her voice went rough.
"And I'm not willing to believe that's all this story is."
Chris leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands pressed over his face.
"Then we hold on," he said. "For her. For when she finds out."
"For when she decides what to do with him in her head," Mara added quietly. "Whether he's the villain, the sacrifice, or both."
They sat in silence, listening to the building's distant sounds, each of them feeling the same sharp, heavy thing:
Somewhere in these walls, Ariel Smith was running on a path cut open by the same man who had ruined her.
And whatever came next would break all of them again,just in a different way.
Jen's questions
The interrogation room was cold and too bright.
Arlo sat in the chair again, wrists cuffed to the metal arms. His face was still bruised from before, but the fresh bleeding had stopped. His shirt was torn and stained.
Jen stood across from him, tablet in hand.
"Let's try this one more time," she said. Her voice was calm, almost gentle. "Where is Ariel Smith?"
Arlo looked right at her.
"In your nightmares, if there's any justice," he said.
Jen's jaw tightened for a second, then relaxed.
"You're bleeding on my floor," she said. "You don't have the room to be funny."
"You don't have the room to be sloppy," he replied. "If she's out, it's because your system let her be."
Jen's eyes went hard.
"Wrong answer," she said.
She nodded at the guard near the wall.
The man stepped forward and punched Arlo in the stomach.
He doubled over as far as the cuffs let him, breath bursting out in a harsh sound. For a moment, he couldn't breathe at all.
Jen waited.
When he could breathe again, she repeated, "Where is Ariel?"
He lifted his head slowly.
"Farther away from you than she was this morning," he rasped. "That's all you need to know."
She watched him for a long, quiet moment.
Then she sighed.
"This isn't working," she said to the room. "He's built for pain. Reed already proved that. He'll just keep bleeding and running his mouth."
Arlo smirked weakly.
"You say that like it's a bad thing," he said.
Jen ignored him now.
"Bring Smith and Carter," she told the guard. "Central cell."
The guard hesitated.
"Both?" he asked.
"Both," Jen said. "If he wants to be their monster, let's see how he likes watching his favorite toys get dented."
Chris and Mara dragged out
The cell door slammed open without warning.
Guards rushed in before Chris could react. One grabbed his arms, twisting them behind his back. Another aimed a shock baton at his ribs.
"Don't," Mara snapped. "He'll come quietly."
Chris struggled anyway.
"Where is she?" he demanded. "What did you do to Arlo? Where are you taking us?"
"To answer some questions," one guard said flatly. "Move."
They cuffed Mara too, faster, rougher. Her wrists burned as the metal bit into the skin.
As they were pushed into the corridor, she glanced at the vent, at the camera, at the little details she always watched. Everything looked the same, but the air felt worse.
They marched them down two turns and into a different room: wider, with reinforced glass on one side.
Arlo was already there.
He sat alone under the bright lights, still in the chair, still cuffed. His eyes flicked up when the door opened.
For a second, something like shock flashed through him.
"Jen," he said, voice low. "No."
She stood by the wall, arms folded.
"Yes," she said. "You had your turn. Now they get theirs."
Chris felt his stomach drop.
He tried to lunge forward, but the guards held him tight.
"Let him go," he shouted. "If you want to punish someone, punish me. I'm the one who—"
"You're the one who what?" Jen asked. "Trusted him? Listened to him? Hated him? All of the above?"
She nodded to the guards.
"Put them in front of him," she said. "Make sure he can see everything."
They forced Chris and Mara to their knees on the floor, facing Arlo. They were close enough that he could see every line of fear and anger on their faces.
Jen walked slowly to stand between them and him.
"Here's the problem, Arlo," she said. "You don't care what happens to you. You've proved that. You want to suffer; it makes you feel… what? Clean? Punished? Noble?" She waved a hand dismissively. "Boring."
She turned to Chris.
"But him?" she said. "And her?"
She looked at Mara for a long, measuring second.
"You care," she said. "Too much."
Arlo stared at her.
"Don't do this," he said quietly.
Jen smiled without warmth.
"Answer my question, then," she said. "Where did you send Ariel? Which vent, which line, which exit?"
Arlo's lips pressed into a thin line.
He said nothing.
"Fine," Jen said.
She nodded toward Chris.
"Start with him."
Hurting Chris
The guard stepped behind Chris and grabbed a fistful of his hair, jerking his head back.
Another guard drove a fist into Chris's ribs.
White‑hot pain burst through his side. He grunted, trying to keep the sound in, but a raw noise escaped anyway.
Mara flinched.
"Stop," she snapped. "He doesn't know anything. He was locked in a cell. You're just breaking bones for fun now."
Jen's gaze slid to her.
"We'll get to you," she said calmly. "Patience."
The guard hit Chris again, lower this time. His knees slipped on the floor.
"Where is Ariel?" Jen asked Arlo again.
He swallowed, throat tight.
"You really think beating them will make me talk?" he asked. "You think I haven't already decided how far I'm willing to go?"
She tilted her head.
"I think you're not as heartless as you pretend," she said. "He called you a coward to your face, and you still walked him back to his cell alive. That tells me something."
Chris spat blood on the floor.
"Jen," he panted. "You want to know where Ariel is? She's in your head. That's what scares you."
Jen's expression didn't change, but her eyes went colder.
The guard slammed a knee into Chris's back, forcing him down.
Mara jerked against her cuffs.
"Enough!" she shouted. "You're going to crack his spine before you get anything useful."
Her voice shook on "crack" in a way she didn't like.
Arlo heard it.
His fingers clenched around the ends of the chair's armrests until his knuckles went white.
Jen watched all three of them, reading every tiny movement.
"Still nothing," she said. "Interesting."
She walked closer to Mara.
"You've been very smart so far," Jen said. "Watching vents, timing cameras, writing little rules on the air. You see more than most. So tell me,do you know where she went?"
Mara met her gaze.
"If I did," she said, "I'd still lie."
Jen smiled faintly.
"I thought so," she said. "That's why I didn't start with you. But I think we're there now."
She stepped back.
"Hit him again," she told the guard behind Chris. "Then switch."
The next punch drove the air from Chris's lungs. He couldn't hold back the loud, broken sound that ripped out of him.
"Chris!" Mara cried, voice cracking. "Breathe, you idiot, breathe—"
He tried. His chest burned. The room swam.
Through the blur, he saw Arlo, eyes wide, jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might break.
"Stop," Arlo said, voice rough. "He's going to pass out. You won't get anything from him if you—"
Jen lifted a hand.
The guard paused.
"There," she said softly. "That's closer."
She looked from Chris to Mara, then back to Arlo.
"You know what the real test is?" she asked. "Not how much you can take. How much you can watch."
She nodded once.
"Now her," she said.
Turning to Mara
Two guards moved at once.
One yanked Chris back by the cuffs, dragging him a little to the side so he couldn't shield Mara even if he tried. The other stepped behind Mara, grabbing her shoulders, forcing her to stay on her knees.
Mara tensed.
"Don't touch her," Chris snapped, struggling against the hands on him. Panic punched through the pain. "Hey! I'm the one you've been using as leverage this whole time, right? Doctor, good with people, bla bla,hit me, not her!"
Jen didn't even glance at him.
"You care about her," she said to Arlo instead.
Mara's heart stuttered in her chest.
She hated that Jen was right.
Arlo's breathing went shallow.
"She's useful," he said, but the words had no bite.
Jen nodded to the guard behind Mara.
"First mark," she said. "Nothing permanent. Yet."
The guard lifted the baton.
The sound of it hitting her shoulder was a sharp, ugly crack.
Pain slammed through Mara's body. It stole her breath for a second. Her vision flashed white at the edges.
A small, shocked cry escaped before she could bite it back.
Chris shouted.
"Mara!"
His voice broke completely.
He surged forward, but the guards held him down, pressing his face close to the floor.
"Stop!" he choked. "Please, stop,hit me instead, I can take it—"
Another hit.
This one lower, catching Mara's ribs.
Her head dropped. She tasted copper where she bit her tongue.
"Jen," Arlo said, and this time his voice wasn't calm at all. "Enough."
Jen's eyes gleamed.
"Where is Ariel?" she asked again. "You give me a path, any path, and I call them off. You stay the only one bleeding."
Arlo looked at Mara.
She was breathing in sharp, painful gasps. Her eyes were squeezed shut. Chris was saying her name over and over, like he could keep her conscious by sheer force.
Something inside him that he'd been holding together by will alone started to tear.
"Don't you dare," Mara rasped, cracking her eyes open to glare at him. "Don't you dare talk, Johnson. If she got away, you don't undo that for me."
Her voice shook but the words were clear.
Another blow lifted the skin on her arm in a dark, rising welt.
Her strangled sound this time was small but it went straight into both men like a knife.
Chris threw his head back and screamed, voice raw.
"Stop, I'll tell you anything I know!" he shouted. "Just don't touch her again! Jen, I swear, I'll—"
"You don't know enough," Jen cut in. "You know his habits. His tells. I already have that. I want routes."
She looked at Arlo.
He was shaking now, from pain and fury and something that looked too much like fear.
"Last chance," she said. "Her or your silence."
The guard raised the baton one more time.
Time seemed to slow.
Mara braced herself, muscles tight.
Chris's eyes filled with tears he didn't bother to hide.
"Don't," he begged. "Please, don't—"
The baton started to fall.
"STOP!" both men shouted at once.
The word ripped out of them together,Arlo from the chair, Chris from the floor.
The sound filled the room, echoing off the walls.
For the first time since the torture started, even the guards hesitated. The baton froze in mid‑air.
Jen smiled, small and satisfied.
"There it is," she murmured. "Right where I wanted you."
She lowered her hand.
"Hold," she told the guard. "For now."
Mara sagged, trembling, trying to catch her breath.
Chris's chest heaved.
Arlo stared at Jen, hatred blazing through the pain.
"I'll tell you something," he said hoarsely. "But if you touch her again after that, I swear, Jen, I will burn down every inch of this place you care about, even if I have to do it from a grave."
Jen's smile didn't fade.
"That," she said calmly, "sounds like a very good start."