Page 56 of Hunted to Be Mine
“Fine.” He paced a slow arc around the table, still out of reach. “They strapped me down. A chair with restraints. Needles. Something cold burning through my veins.” His tone stayed clinical, but his fingers twitched at his side. “Then the helmet. Current. Pain that swallowed everything. Questions, again and again, until I couldn’t remember my name.”
“And after that?” Kruger asked.
“Images. Thousands. Too fast to hold.” His eyes narrowed. “And words. Words that branded.”
I filled in the gaps. “The SENTINEL files called it neural pathway reconstruction. Chemicals plus targeted electrical stimulation to reset the brain while preserving muscle memory and skills.”
“You’ve done your homework, Doctor.”
“It wasn’t only about compliance,” I said. “They designed operatives who function within parameters and think they’re choosing for themselves. As if they had any real power.”
“Close.” Kruger’s mouth flattened. “Dresner believed perfection meant breaking the mind completely, then rebuilding it with loyalty at the core.”
Specter mapped the room in tight lines, contained energy. “There’s more. Another operative cracked. He said the trigger words felt like strings. One pull and we move.”
Kruger leaned forward a fraction. “Another operative? Which generation?”
“Prima,” Specter said. “I’m Secunda. Second wave.”
A thin crease appeared between Kruger’s brows. “And he’s found a way to neutralize the triggers?”
“He’s working on it.”
“What did Dresner want with the triggers?”
“Control,” Kruger said. “But more elegant than that.” Detached pride edged his voice. “Imagine a weapon that thinks it’s free while it follows an invisible script.”
My stomach turned. “The trigger words weren’t only for emergencies,” I said. “They were part of the design?”
“Exactly, Doctor.” His smile was thin. “Dresner called it ‘freedom within parameters.’ The operative believes they’re autonomous, adapting, making tactical calls, but certain words, phrases, stimuli, activate subroutines buried so deep they feel like the operative’s own thoughts.”
“Like deciding to kill children?” Specter’s voice went quiet and cold.
Kruger’s expression slipped. “St. Elisabeth’s was… complicated.”
“Explain.”
“The triggers were embedded during programming. Most handlers knew one or two. Enough to direct their asset, not enough to steal someone else’s. Dresner knew them all.”
“And you?” I asked. “How many did you know?”
Kruger looked at him. “Some.”
The room seemed to cool. Specter’s hand inched closer to his waistband.
“But triggers weren’t the worst part,” Kruger said. “Memory management was. The stronger the original personality, the more thoroughly we broke it. We erased specific memories, kept skills. Invented memories when useful.” He fixed on Specter. “You were exceptional—highly resistant. Took three times longer than protocol.”
“Is that why I remember fragments?”
“No. It worked too well. The suppression was so complete your brain’s been fighting ever since, creating… fissures.”
Specter planted his palms on the table and leaned in. “What caused them? A flaw?”
“No documented cases like yours,” Kruger said, mouth twitching. “At least, nothing official.”
“Unofficial?”
“Dresner didn’t document failures. Bad for business. Ugly for morale.”
