Chapter 9 · Blood for the Door

“You’re lying!” I spat. My voice cracked, echoing off the damp stone. I stepped toward the prisoner, chains rattling against the floor. “My mother didn't build this. She wouldn't create a machine that wipes people's lives every few days!”

The man didn't flinch. He leaned back, a jagged, ugly smile cutting across his face. “Belief is a comforting blanket, Lena. But look at the ring on your finger. Look at how this city breathes. You think a random accident gave you that mark?”

Calder’s hand clamped onto my shoulder. Hard. I could feel him shaking. He wasn't just exhausted—he was carrying my memories now. I saw it in his eyes: flashes of my childhood, the smell of old books, the way my mother hummed. Things he shouldn't know. It felt like he was crawling inside my skin.

“Enough,” Calder growled. He stepped between me and the bars, eyes narrowing. “Tell us where the Core is. Now. Or I’ll rip every memory out of your head until you stop breathing.”

“The Core?” The prisoner let out a dry, hacking chuckle. “The Core isn't a place, Officer Rane. It's a sequence. And that sequence needs a key. A blood key.