Chapter 27 · The First Blood Debt

The faces were wrong.

Cole stood in a room that shouldn't exist. White walls. Medical lighting. And six body bags laid out in two neat rows, zippers halfway down. He knew every face inside before he looked. Reeves. Tang. Dalisay. Morris. Kwan. Bishop.

His old squad. The one that died because he made the call.

"You remember them." The Watcher's voice came from everywhere and nowhere. "Good. Most subjects forget by loop sixty."

Cole's hand went to his sidearm. Empty holster. Of course.

"This isn't real," he said.

"Real enough." The Watcher stepped out from behind the last body bag. Same dark suit. Same face Cole could never quite remember between loops. "You stood here once before. The night you signed."

The room shifted. Now it was the actual place. Basement level of some contractor building in Virginia. Cinder block walls. Fluorescent lights flickering. The same six bags, but this time Cole was twenty-three and his hands wouldn't stop shaking.

"I offered you a way out," the Watcher said. "A second chance. You took it."

"You said I could save them." Cole's voice came out flat. Eighty-three loops of practice keeping emotion out of his throat. "You lied.