The moment Saive stepped into the equally bright hallway, a sharp click sounded near his right ear. He froze. When he blinked, his gaze locked on the barrel of a gun pointed at him from the corner of his eye.

"Don't move," the man holding the weapon said in Jaedan.

Another soldier stood beside him, both dressed in Vernajjian military uniforms.

"Fuck you," Saive spat in Vernajjian.

The two men exchanged a quick glance, then switched languages seamlessly.

"Close the door," the gunman ordered.

The second man shut the door with a soft snick, locking Roenan inside.

"Have someone check on the medic who was in there," the soldier added.

The second man nodded and walked briskly down the hall to the right.

Saive let out a small laugh and the man looked down at him. “A coroner,” Saive muttered, venom in his voice, "Will need to check on him."

That earned him a sharp pistol-whip to the face. He staggered, catching himself on the wall, blood on his lip.

“Walk,” the gunman ordered.

Saive wiped his mouth, eyes blazing. The man jerked his chin toward the left, indicating the direction.

Saive didn’t move.

When the man reached for the back of his neck, Saive slapped his hand away hard.

“I’m going,” he snapped, rolling his neck—less from stiffness and more from revulsion at nearly being touched.

The soldier didn’t like that. He grabbed Saive by the collar of his white hospital shirt and slammed him into the wall.

“Don’t be smart with me, you son of a bitch. Don’t think I won’t fucking use this,” he hissed, jamming the tip of the gun against Saive’s temple.

Saive laughed bitterly and pulled his head away.

“You won’t kill me. I know what type of orders you're under, I'm not naive. Now get the hell off me!”

The soldier punched the wall beside Saive’s head. The force stirred the air across his cheek. Saive’s breath caught.

“I might not be on order to kill you,” the man hissed, “but that doesn’t mean I won’t shoot you.”

He angled the gun toward Saive’s knee. He he bent lower, leveling their eyes.

“And I know what makes you crack,” he said, a sneer curling his lip. “We all do.”

Saive felt the blood drain from his face, like cold water had been poured over him.

“Now walk,” the soldier whispered, stepping back and raising the gun back up toward his head.

Jaw clenched, Saive pushed away from the wall and began walking. His thoughts suddenly spiraled toward Roenan.

What did Roenan think of him now—after what he’d seen? Could he understand? No… Roenan would have no idea what Saive had endured. What he was still enduring.

Why had they brought that idiot here in the first place? What did they want with him?

But Saive knew why he was here.

He was Jaedan. A militant. A spy. And he’d been caught.

He had secrets buried in his mind—valuable "enemy" intel. They didn’t want to kill him. They wanted to break him.

Roenan, though… his features told their own story. He was mixed. Part Jaedan, part something else—Vernajjian, maybe. His hair held some of that soft, light brown common in Vernajjia, and his eyes…

Roenan’s eyes were even more unique than Saive’s own silver ones. Silver specks like stars clustered around the pupils, fading into a warm caramel found only in those with Vernajjian blood.

Saive snapped out of his thoughts as they reached the end of the hallway and turned into a shorter one. Everything remained oppressively white, that it almost felt disorienting. He briefly wondered if color was outlawed in this country.

They reached the end of the hall.

“Stop,” the man ordered.

A door stood to their right, a small keypad and biometric scanner beside it. The soldier keyed in a code, then scanned his fingerprint.

Beep. The lock disengaged with a heavy click.

He opened the door and gestured for Saive to enter.

Inside was darkness.

A table sat at the center, with a chair at each end. One chair was equipped with built-in restraints— handcuffs bolted to the tabletop, ankle chains anchored to the floor.

A single overhead light illuminated the table’s center, casting long shadows against the walls.

Saive didn’t need to be told how he’d be spending the next several hours.

His gut twisted as he stepped into the interrogation room.