Page 72 of Dark Rebel's Mystery

Jade shifted, glancing once more around the cramped interior. "Last reminder that if we get separated and things go badly, the fallback is the southwestern ridge."

Outside, the rotor wash churned dust and scattered pebbles in swirling gusts. The whine of the engines built to a higher pitch as the pilot slowed them, preparing to touch down. Max clenched his jaw, adrenaline lacing his veins.

"Approaching landing zone in ten… nine…" the pilot counted down.

Max's grip tightened around his weapon.

"Three… two… one…"

The helicopter touched the ground with a jarring thud, rotors still spinning overhead. Max could barely make out the silhouette of the ascending hill through the open door, but faint illumination from behind its ridge was a clear indication that they were in the right place. The compound lay beyond.

This was it.

"Go," Jade commanded, her voice sharp through the earpiece.

48

KYRA

Kyra's eyes fluttered open to hazy, overlapping shapes in a room she didn't initially recognize. Pain pulsed at the back of her skull, each beat intensifying until her vision blurred with it. She tried to breathe slowly, but the air felt stale in her nose, tainted with something metallic she knew all too well. Blood. Or maybe rust. She couldn't tell which was stronger.

Her mouth was so dry it felt glued shut. She swallowed once, failing to summon enough saliva to soothe her throat. Everything was dim, like a nightmare half-lurking in the corners of her consciousness. Her arms wouldn't move like she wanted. She tugged, too sharply, and a jolt of dull agony lanced her shoulder.

A surge of panic hit.

Chains. A rasping clank told her what she had already sensed. They were heavier than she remembered. The cold metal bit into her wrists, pinning her arms to the bed frame with no slack to spare. Her legs were similarly bound, ankles strapped in place. With every attempt to shift, the cuffs pressed into her skin.

She blinked, letting her eyes adjust to the gloom. The overhead bulb cast a sickly yellow light over peeling walls. A tiny portal near the ceiling was barred. Fresh iron, by the look of it, the metal glinting in the faint light.

The doctor.

That single word cut through the fog in her head like a blade. He had found her. Recognized her in the hallway, ripping away her scarf and calling her by name. She remembered the look of triumph on his face, then the sudden flash of pain.

After that, nothing.

A memory—or maybe a hallucination—flickered at the edges of her mind. Glimpses of a white coat from her nightmares, a smirking mouth, the prick of a needle sliding into her vein. She wasn't sure if it happened a minute ago or twenty years prior. Her thoughts felt scrambled, spinning just out of reach whenever she tried to pin them down.

A wave of nausea rolled through her gut.

She forced herself to breathe.

Focus.

She needed clarity, but the sedation that weighed on her was heavier than any chains. It clung to her limbs, pulling them into the thin mattress. She tried bending her elbows and testing the cuffs for a weak link, but the metal was thick and unyielding. This time, they'd accounted for someone with her strength. Not that she felt strong at the moment.

The drugs had siphoned out all her strength.

"Damn it," she croaked, voice barely above a whisper. The dryness in her throat made the words come out cracked and small. Another wave of panic washed over her. She forced a deep inhale, willing calm into her pounding heart. Panicking would do nothing but tighten the chains holding her.

From somewhere beyond the thick walls, a scream sliced the silence. It was distinctly female, echoing down a hall or maybe from a room next door. She froze, listening. She wasn't the only one trapped in this place. Something wretched tightened behind her sternum. She recalled the new girls the doctor had just brought in. What were they doing to them?

She tugged again, though she knew it was pointless. It was instinctive. She was like a trapped animal that would claw its way to freedom, even if it meant dying in the process.

A flash of memory returned. The door to her cell was identical to the one in the asylum, with its small barred window. Her arms were strapped to a gurney, a needle pricked her skin. The sensations merged with the present until she couldn't separate them. She had escaped that nightmare once, unleashing a strength she hadn't known she possessed—ripping away the restraints, snapping the lock. But it wouldn't happen this time. She could feel the difference. These cuffs were thicker, the frame reinforced, and the sedation coursing through her veins had robbed her muscles of their superhuman strength.

This time, though, someone knew where she was. Maybe her people would come to free her once they realized she'd been captured.

They would know as soon as night fell and she didn't return.

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