The walls were too white. Too clean. Sterile like the rest of this place, like they’d bleached away anything human. The bed was untouched. I hadn’t sat on it since they gave me the key. Couldn’t. I didn’t want to sleep here. I didn’t want to sleep at all.

I stumbled into the bathroom and collapsed in front of the sink. No warning this time—just the burn of acid rising and the dry, helpless cough that followed.

There was nothing left to vomit. Just the bitter taste of guilt crawling up the back of my throat.

Nyx was silent.

That, more than anything, scared me.

I braced my hands on the edge of the sink and looked at myself.

The mirror didn’t lie.

Pale. Hollow-eyed. My lips were cracked. My skin looked like it didn’t belong to me. A walking, breathing shell dressed in someone else’s body.

That girl. Lina. Her voice still echoed, naive and sweet.

“Do I get to meet someone today?”

Gods.

I sat down hard on the bathroom floor, legs drawn in, arms braced over my knees. Not crying. Just still.

Still enough to hear my own pulse thudding in my ears.

I had seen a lot of things. Done worse, maybe. Maybe.

But that girl’s voice—her wonder—it broke something I hadn’t realized I’d been trying so hard to protect.

My mind kept replaying the shift. That moment when curiosity turned into confusion. When a child’s imagination shattered under something real. Brutal. Unforgiving.

I should’ve said something. I should’ve—

A knock.

Then the door creaked open.

I didn’t move.

“Still alive in here?” a voice asked.

Male. Unfamiliar. Calm. Too calm.

I didn’t answer.

The footsteps were slow, deliberate. He didn’t step into the bathroom. Just leaned against the doorframe, arms folded casually.

“Didn’t think the delivery girl would break this fast,” he said. “You were supposed to be tougher.”

My head lifted just enough to see the outline of him through my tangled hair—tall, wiry. Sleeves rolled up to the elbows, shirt too crisp to be cheap. Dark eyes. Cold smile.

He didn’t reek of power the way some of the others did. His kind didn’t need to. The quiet ones were always worse.

“I didn’t break,” I said, voice raw.

“Sure. That’s why I found you curled around a toilet.”

I didn’t dignify that with a response.

He stepped further in now, not enough to close the distance, just enough to block the only exit. “They wanted to see how you'd handle it. First assignment always says the most about a recruit.”

“So it was a test.”

“Everything is a test.” He shrugged. “Some fail quietly. Some run. A few lean in.”

“And what am I supposed to be?”

“Jury’s still out.”

I stood slowly. My legs didn’t shake.

Good.

“I did what you asked,” I said.

“Mm.” He tilted his head. “You didn’t stop her. You didn’t run with her. You didn’t even scream.”

“I wasn’t told to.”

He grinned. “Exactly.”

There was a pause between us, thick and heavy.

“She wasn’t ready,” I said, finally.

“None of them are.”

He turned, then, as if satisfied. Paused in the doorway.

“One more thing,” he said without looking back. “The boss heard. About your… reaction. He finds it interesting.”

I didn’t ask what that meant.

The door clicked shut behind him.

I stood there a moment longer, gripping the edge of the sink until my knuckles went white.

Nyx stirred at last.

“We’re in the wrong place, Rhea.”

I stared into the mirror.

“I know.”