Page 96 of Broken Sentinel

Understanding crashes over me. "You're working with Unity."

"A temporary alliance," Lin acknowledges. "They desire your genetics. We desire what comes next. Both objectives align...for now."

"You betrayed your own kind," Vex snarls, coiled to attack despite the hopeless odds.

"Sentinels? Splinters? Evolved? All transitional forms," Lin dismisses. "What your mother began, Thorne offspring, leads to something greater than any of these limited identities."

The Unity operators advance, suppression weapons at ready. Trent struggles against his restraints, earning a brutal strike from a guard. My heart sinks, anger warring with the need to protect him.

"Don't fight," I tell Vex, mind racing through options. "Not yet."

His amber eyes flash with understanding—we need time, information, opportunity. Fighting now means death or immediate capture.

"Wise decision," Lin approves as operators surround us. "Your mother's intelligence, clearly."

"My mother would be disgusted by your betrayal," I retort.

Lin merely smiles, an expression made grotesque by his transformed features. "Your mother understood necessary sacrifice better than anyone. Why do you think she sent her own child into Unity's heart?"

The words strike like I’ve been slapped in the face. Before I can respond, suppression rounds impact simultaneously, enveloping us in chemical mist. My lungs seize, modifications struggling to adapt to the specialized compound.

Darkness edges my vision as my body fights the suppressants. The last thing I see before consciousness fades is Trent's face, his eyes holding mine with fierce intensity.

Then nothing.

CHAPTER 19

Cold metal against my back.Chemical taste in my mouth. Restraints on my wrists, ankles, and across my chest.

I've been captured before—training simulations where Sentinels practiced resistance techniques. This feels different. My body feels wrong, sluggish, like I'm swimming through syrup. My modifications aren't responding.

My eyes crack open to blinding white light. A laboratory. Monitors beeping steadily. Clear tubes running from my arms to machines I don't recognize.

"Subject is regaining consciousness," a clinical voice announces.

A face appears above me—female, mid-forties, wearing the distinctive white coat of Unity Medical Division. Her eyes scan me with professional detachment.

"Ms. Thorne," she says. "I'm Dr. Keller. You're in a secure medical facility."

"Where are my companions?" My voice comes out raspy, throat dry.

"The modified male is in containment," she answers, checking something on a tablet. "The Sentinel is being debriefed."

Debriefed. Unity's euphemism for interrogation.

I test the restraints—medical-grade polymer, designed specifically for enhanced subjects. No give.

"Don't bother," Dr. Keller says, noting my attempt. "The suppression compound has temporarily deactivated your modifications. And even if it hadn't, those restraints would hold a subject five times stronger."

My eyes dart around the lab, cataloging details through the fog in my brain. Four exit points. Six monitoring stations. Two armed guards by the main door. Everything gleaming with Unity's sterile perfection.

"Where am I?" I ask, playing confused and scared. Not entirely an act.

"A research facility dedicated to genetic stability," Keller answers. "We've been looking for you for quite some time, Ms. Thorne."

"Why?"

She actually smiles at that. "I think you know. Your genetic structure is unique. The adaptive capabilities you've demonstrated are of significant interest to Unity."

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