“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty.”

  Panic snapped my eyes open. I blinked hard, trying to clear my vision. There wasn’t even a second to adjust to the blinding light before I instinctively looked around, tried to get up—but neither was possible.

  My arms and calves were tightly strapped to the chair. One hand clutched my jaw, the other pressed down on my head, forcing me to stare straight ahead. The light hitting my face was too harsh. I could only make out that the person across the table had long blond hair. White.

  “What the—where’s Rafe?”

  The terror came flooding back. I struggled, and the pain in my jaw and skull made me feel like they were about to shatter.

  “What did you do to a hunter from the Ainsworth clade?”

  “We’re the ones asking questions. Who are you? What were you doing out at sea?”

  Her voice wasn’t young. She was wearing a black crew-neck tank top. The angle of the spotlight was brutal—I still couldn’t make out her face.

  “If I can’t be sure Rafe’s alive, you’re not getting a damn thing.”

  I could hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears. I was sure the person holding my head could feel it too, pulsing through my neck.

  “Let’s make it quick: twist my neck, and it’ll all be over.”

  “Your precious companion’s already done for.”

  The blinding light finally shut off, but I still couldn’t see shit—this time because it was too dark. The woman opened a laptop, turned the screen toward me, and played a silent video.

  It was a short aerial shot of the offshore oil platform I’d just been on. I’d seen it from the chopper earlier—it was one of the ugliest structures I’d ever laid eyes on. In under thirty seconds, the steel beast was consumed by a bright explosion. But I’d seen enough to know exactly what it meant.

  Rafe and Otto—the dog. Their lives were now hanging by a thread in my mind. My heartbeat slowed. I shut my eyes. When I opened them again, I’d strip away everything unnecessary and focus on the one thing that mattered.

  “I need to see it again.”

  I needed time. My fucked-up, useless brain needed a few seconds to boot.

  “You don’t get to decide that, sweetheart.”

  She closed the laptop and placed a small, familiar box on top of it like it was a gravestone.

  “I believe this belongs to you.”

  “Forget the damn rock. I need to know Rafe’s okay. That’s all that matters.”

  The pressure on my head loosened a bit. I shifted my neck—years of brutal study sessions in high school had left me with chronic stiffness. I could tell how long I’d been stuck in a position based on the ache alone. I kept stalling, anything to give my brain a few more seconds.

  “You really think I’m gonna react to that thing? I can’t even remember how to spell ‘Ainsworth’ right now.”

  “If you want me to talk, start with something I actually care about.”

  I hadn’t been tied to the chair for long. Judging by the way my body felt—like after a short, shitty nap on a plane—it was between one and two hours. But if Rafe hadn’t gotten proper medical help, that amount of blood loss was enough to kill him. Even if they’d patched him up, the longer they delayed, the more likely he’d end up with some kind of complication.

  I had to move faster. I needed to confirm Rafe’s condition as soon as possible.

  “All right, something you care about.”

  The woman reached down like a magician and pulled out a bag. With a casual motion, she dumped stacks of crisp green bills onto the table.

  “We need your help. I’m sorry we had to bring you in so roughly. This is just the start. Whatever you can imagine—whatever you can’t—can be yours. Just tell us what happened out there.”

  “I already said—Rafe. But since you’re showing some good faith, I’ll compromise—if keeping one person alive is too hard for you, how about the dog?”

  I kept my eyes locked on the money, pretending to be fascinated, while my peripheral vision stayed trained on the man standing beside the table. The lighting was just right. I could see him clearly enough now.

  “His name’s Otto. Poorly trained. No aggression. Gets scared of lizards. Dumb enough he can’t even learn ‘shake’ or ‘spin.’ He’s a harmless little idiot, but I like him.”

  I spoke softly, each word real. “If you let me have Otto, then Rafe being dead might actually be a good thing. I mean, who wants their kid stuck with a mess of a co-parent who technically has more custody?”

  Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. My Skill. Hoffman's Skill. My Path. All of it—gone.

  “Let me see Otto, then I’ll start to talk. Sounds good to you, mate?”

  If Otto’s still alive, then Rafe probably is too—and I really hoped they didn’t know I was thinking that.

  Also, the man to my side looked familiar somehow. I couldn’t place why.

  “Miss Dai, we know more than you think. I’m well aware of the relationship between Raphael and that dog.”

  The woman spoke without hurry.

  “You think you’re the first Hunter we’ve ever dealt with? Think. What kind of power do you think it takes to blow up a place like that?”

  Shit. This was bad.

  Everything went dark for a second before I realized I’d just closed my eyes from the weight of despair.

  “Don’t try to play games with us.”

  The man leaned over the table, speaking low into my ear, and then slammed his fist down hard.

  “Answer.”

  Right. I snapped my head up and locked eyes with him.

  “Reservoir pressure: 0.05 MPa, well below standard blowout threshold. Solution gas-oil ratio under 2 scf per barrel—basically no releasable gas. Free gas saturation less than 0.1%, zero risk of accumulation. Associated natural gas content: negligible. No methane, no ethane detected. VOCs below 10 ppm. No flammable vapor at room temperature.”

  The man’s lip twitched—barely.

  I turned my attention to the woman.

  “Whoever’s in charge of this ‘interrogation’ is a fucking idiot—hopefully not you. That’d be a shame.”

  “Then we’re done here.”

  She stared at me, calm as ever, and nodded toward the man. He reached down and drew a knife from his belt, moving behind me.

  Terror made me choke on my own breath. My heart pounded like war drums.

  “You moron—that was from the site’s exploration report. I mean that, under natural conditions, that rig physically couldn’t have exploded. It’s all in the ASIC files. The place was so absurdly safe it got a classification almost no one else ever receives.”

  Even if the next second saw that knife slicing through my throat, I would hold her gaze and grind down her psychological defenses with facts alone.

  “To put it simply: that was an oilfield without flammable byproducts. No way in hell it could’ve blown like that.”

  Her eyelids lifted slightly. But there were no wrinkles at the corners of her eyes or on her forehead. That wasn’t surprise—it was simulated. A trained response. No microexpressions.

  And if she’s trained enough to control her face, why the hell would she let herself widen her eyes?

  “Don’t tell me you planted enough explosives. You’re gonna fake a spontaneous blast at a site the entire world agrees can’t blow? Fine. Let’s say you’re brilliant. You managed to convince ASIC, every oversight body, and somehow sneak tons of ordnance into Ainsworth’s most valuable resource, right under their noses. If you can do that, then you don’t need me to tell you what happened down there—you already know.”

  I sank into my own logic. The deeper I went, the more solid it became. Fear gave way to fury, and my words turned sharp.

  “You fucking idiot. You really thought a ridiculous bluff like this would work? Only a trash mind limited by its own imagination would believe no one else could see through your pathetic—”

  Agony exploded through my left hand. I screamed, doubling over. A hand yanked my hair and jerked my head back, nearly snapping my neck.

  “Answer the question, you smug little shit.”

  “Fuck you.”

  I glared into those pitch-black eyes.

  “Your master’s useless now, so you’re just the dog barking for attention, huh?”

  And suddenly, all the details I’d been ignoring rearranged themselves in my head before I consciously realized it. A conclusion slipped out of my mouth like it had always been waiting.

  “Come on, man. You didn’t kill all of us before we got in. You shot Rafe in the gut, not the head. You knocked me out—you didn’t kill me.”

  “Get it straight, motherfucker. You wanna beg? Act like someone who’s begging, you piece of shit.”

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Another blow landed—maybe on my other finger, I couldn’t tell. My whole arm felt like it was on fire. The pain was so intense it almost made me cry.

  But instead of breaking me, it snapped my mind into a level of clarity I’d never known. Like something had just been activated.

  “Before you open your mouth again, think real hard about what you wanna say.”

  This time, he clamped his hand around my throat, holding it until my vision started to go dark—then let go.

  Okay. Honestly? Not a bad way to jog my thinking.

  “You changed your clothes. Your shoes. Even your eye color. But your scent’s still the same—and your chest. I remember beautiful things.”

  My smile probably looked horrible.

  “Pretty boy, I won’t ask how you survived this long. Let’s just skip to the part where you tell me what the fuck you actually want.”

  “Everything that happened on that platform.”

  The woman’s voice was so calm it might’ve been a playback.

  “If—you—don’t—want—pain—”

  I drew out each word with venom, my voice dragged across the edge of agony.

  “When’s the last time you got Botox, sweetheart? Last night?”

  “I get it. Your rich little family taught you the one useful skill you have: flash cash, open your sausage-shaped pig mouth, and pretend to be an expert in a field you don’t understand. You really think—”

  A third finger. I didn’t even cry out this time. I realized I was starting to get used to the pain.

  “You think anyone buys your act? You can’t even fool a stranger tied to a chair.”

  Thanks to all her cosmetic work, the woman’s face didn’t show microexpressions—but it had this sag to it, like gravity was pulling it down in all the wrong ways. I didn’t need to guess what she felt.

  “You think I’m the only one who sees you for what you are? No. I’m just the only one who says it out loud. You think people follow your orders because they respect you. They’re just doing whatever it takes to shut you the fuck up. Like dealing with a clingy, ugly woman: the fastest way to get rid of her is to give her just enough to make her leave. Am I right, brother?”

  I finally turned to the man. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the woman retract her hands from the table. She was still. Like a statue.

  “You sure can talk.”

  The man slapped my face—not hard, but loud—then reached into the pocket of his black pants and tossed something white onto the table.

  “Keep going.”

  It was a yellowed, triangular scrap of cloth, stained and impossible to clean. Embroidered on it: Otto’s name.

  I’d made that bandana for Otto out of a white T-shirt I’d given up on ever washing. Of course, he was the little bastard who’d ruined the shirt in the first place.

  What had he done again...

  “I... I get it now.”

  Something was draining out of me. I started imagining all the ways Rafe and Otto might’ve died. It wasn’t helpful. But I couldn’t stop myself.

  “You. You’re not like her. You know what a Hunter really is. You know what you’re doing.”

  “You shut down my Skill, my Path—like they never existed. That’s impressive. That trust-fund baby only survived this far because of you. I don’t know why you still need her to tell you what to do, but I could help change that.”

  “You know there’s a Resident out in the ocean that can control corpses? I happen to know one. If you kill her right here, I can make her body move however you want—give a speech, sign a paper, even fuck you.”

  I started taking deeper breaths. Tried to get my thoughts in order.

  “I know you could probably do all that yourself—but I could make it easier.”

  I stared into his pitch-black eyes until my vision started to blur.

  “You’ve got Rafe. And Otto. Let me see them. Just once. Just prove they’re alive...”

  I tasted salt. This was it. Game over.

  If I’d known what was coming, I would’ve preemptively removed a few useless organs—starting with my goddamn tear glands.

  No. Truth is, I never had a choice.

  From the moment this black-eyed devil showed up behind me and Rafe, our fate had already been sealed. Everything since then had just been a carefully curated illusion.

  “If they’re safe, then you know exactly how to make me cooperate. If not, you’re not getting a single fucking thing from me.”

  I let my tear glands do whatever the hell they wanted—those little meat tumors weren’t going to interfere with what I had to do next.

  “You want words. I’ll give you more than that. I don’t give a shit about Ainsworth, but I need to know that following your orders will protect what I care about.”

  Tears had completely clouded my vision. But my voice was steadier than ever.

  Finally, something good was happening. My Skill was waking up again. Just a little more time—ten minutes—

  The fourth finger—maybe two at once, I couldn’t tell.

  Didn’t matter anymore. I didn’t make a sound.

  The tears dried. My vision cleared.

  Rational thought and words weren’t enough anymore. I had to focus everything on the Skill. This was the last shot I had.

  “I got your point, motherfucker. You two are the same—thinking you know everything.”

  The despair and the focus of trying to reignite my Skill made me start speaking things I wasn’t even aware I was thinking.

  “You have no fucking clue what’s inside me, asshole. Someone’s going to finish what I started.”

  The man just stared at me, calmly holding the knife that had shattered every finger on my left hand. This time, the blade was pointed straight at me.

  “You and her—what’s your relationship? Can’t be marriage. There’s no love. No hate either. But for you to take orders from that kind of deadweight, there must be something emotional. You know her family.”

  I zeroed in on the man’s face, let it fill my entire mind, my vision, let it pull the threads of my Skill back into shape.

  “No—not just know. You’re loyal to someone close to her. Her father? Her mother?”

  “Her father.”

  I nodded, certain now. “You’re in love with her father.”

  “What kind of love, though? What are you trying to get from him? You must realize it by now—whether it’s affection, wealth, power, or something else I don’t even understand—this woman is in your way.”

  My voice now carried the charge of my Skill.

  “Are you a Hunter?”

  “No.”

  It was the first time he answered one of my questions directly.

  Whether that meant the Skill had worked or I’d just hit a nerve, I didn’t care. I was going to push.

  “I can help you find your Path. Hell, I can get you one—steal someone else’s and give it to you.”

  I was confident—because I knew I could.

  “Not here, of course. Pick anyone. If I fail, you can cut off Rafe’s fingers. Or his whole arm. Whatever you like.”

  “On one condition: I see Rafe first.”

  The man glanced toward the woman. She rose from her chair like a machine, the metal legs scraping across the floor with a shriek. She didn’t even flinch.

  I kept my eyes on the man, hoping—hoping he’d do something when her back was turned. A hand twitch, a tilt of the head, even a flick of his eyes.

  But I didn’t have enough strength to escape.

  I didn’t have enough strength to kill either of them.

  All I had was hope. That my words carried enough Skill to rot something deep inside him. That maybe, one day, he’d decide to put a knife in her.

  Or maybe she’d get scared enough, suspicious enough, to break whatever rope she was clinging to and pull him down with her.

  Either way—one of them dying would be better than me dying alone.

  What I didn’t expect was for the man to pull out a gun after the door slammed shut behind her. I didn’t even see where he got it from.

  He pointed the pitch-black barrel straight at my eyes.

  “This is your last chance. Say something.”

  Every second, people die.

  Humans, animals, cells.

  I’m part of this world, so I will die too.

  So what’s about to happen should be acceptable, as long as the last seconds of my life can be used to destroy the future of the person who kills me.

  “You should try licking her daddy’s asshole. Maybe it’ll open your Path to Nowhere. Better yet, it might even open your Path to somewhere in this fucking world.”

  I felt nothing but absolute calm as I said it, because my Skill was moving inside me in a way it never had before.

  “You’re gonna love the feeling of your mouth and your ass being stuffed at the same time.”

  The gunshot echoed through the tiny room.