When Katika and Lili reached the door of the glass-paneled observation room, they paused. Behind the reinforced window, Mike stood with arms folded behind his back, spine straight. The Gifted man sat shackled at the table inside, posture sagging from the suppression drug. Sweat clung to his brow, and the fire in his eyes had dulled into wary confusion. He looked less like a threat and more like a puzzle waiting to be dissected.
Lili’s yellow eyes lingered on him for a moment, then dulled back to their normal hue.
“He knows something,” she muttered. “Or he was just a hired weapon. Either way, he wasn’t there by chance.”
“He moved too precisely to be freelance,” Katika added, crossing her arms. “He was waiting for us.”
“Then someone knew we were coming,” Lili said, voice low. “And that raises another problem.”
Mike turned slightly, acknowledging their presence with a nod through the glass. He gestured for them to enter.
“I guess round two starts now,” Katika whispered, already pushing open the door. Lili followed Katika into the room.
The moment the prisoner’s eyes landed on Lili, he smiled sharply. “Well,” the man crooned, voice hoarse from the suppressant, “look who walked right in. Just like he said you would.”
Lili’s stride didn’t falter, but her stare sharpened.
She crossed the room in three steps and her fist crashed across his face with a dull crunch. The man’s head snapped sideways with the blood already blooming on his lip.
Before he could recover, her hand curled into the front of his uniform, yanking him forward until they were face to face. Her eyes ignited into red.
“You think I scare easy?” she whispered low. “You have no idea what I’ve bled through just to stand here.”
“Lili,” Mike warned. “This isn’t the way. Stand down.”
Lili’s free hand rose behind her back, showing him five fingers… then pointed one toward the ticking clock on the far wall.
Mike hesitated… then exhaled sharply through his nose, turning away.
The man tried to laugh again, but it caught in his throat when her red eyes narrowed further, dissecting him without a single blink.
“Who’s feeding you names?” she whispered. “Say it… or I’ll make you wish you were still unconscious.” Lili lowered herself until her breath brushed against the prisoner’s skin. “You think these government dogs will protect you?” she murmured. “You think that badge, this base, that cell—any of it—means you’re safe?”
The man’s bravado in the eyes wavered.
“I can get anywhere,” she whispered, lips barely moving. “I was trained for it. Built for it. And if you don’t start talking, I’ll do what I was made to do.”
Her fingers tightened on his collar.
“I will tear you apart… piece by piece, limb by limb, nerve by nerve. And the worst part? I don’t get bored. I find things to break. People to hurt. Names to erase just to watch you squirm. And when you beg, when you cry out… that’s when I’ll start being creative.”
The prisoner tried to look away—he couldn’t.
“You do have someone, don’t you? Someone you’d die to protect. Someone who wouldn’t survive what I can bring.”
That did it. His lips parted. The lie died there. He knew she would find out either way.
His voice shook as he spoke and his eyes darting from the door to her face. “The bullets… they were experiments.”
Lili’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t move.
“They were designed to break the specific minds and control them.” A pause. “You weren’t supposed to fight it. You were supposed to hear them… obey them. But you didn’t. You ignored the voices. That’s… never happened before.”
Her grip slackened just enough to let him breathe, but her stare bore into him further.
“You were the failure that turned into a problem. So they set the trap. To bring you back… or to end you.”
Lili straightened. “Mutation of the powers was part of it, wasn’t it?”
The prisoner gave a shallow nod.
Lili crossed her arms over her chest, eyes still glowing faintly red. “Then give me names.”
The man began shaking his head, trembling, lips mouthing words that never came. His breathing turned erratic, broken. And then—
Her hand shot to her temple, fingers curling, nails biting skin. She stumbled back, gasping. The world started to spin. Shadows crawled up her spine.
“Lili?” Mike’s alarmed voice arrived first.
Katika was already beside her, arms firm around her torso to steady her as Lili’s knees buckled.
“I’m okay,” Lili murmured, though her eyes flicked and her breath came short.
Mike didn’t wait for explanations.
“Lili, out. You’re done here. That’s an order.”
She looked at him already ready to protest, but the concern in his eyes stopped her.
Lili exhaled sharply, but she nodded once.
Katika guided her toward the door, Lili leaning on her only slightly.
Behind them, the prisoner watched with a trembling smirk, bruised and cowed, but not broken.
“Voices in your head, Lili?” Katika’s voice followed her just outside the interrogation room. “You do understand how that sounds.”
Lili recoiled from her touch. Her shoulder jerked back, eyes flashing. “I’m not crazy!” she snapped, her voice rising too fast, too loud, echoing down the sterile hallway.
She turned sharply, marching toward the residential wing, each step a stomp meant to outrun doubt, fear, and the echo of too many whispered threats.
Katika wasn’t having it. She stepped in front of Lili. “And where exactly do you think you’re going?” she asked“You’re in no state to pretend you’re fine.”
“I said I’m fine,” Lili growled, trying to sidestep her, but Katika moved with her.
“No,” Katika said, “you’re not. And I’m not letting you fall apart just because you’re too damn proud to admit something’s wrong. You’re going to see Margherita now!”
Lili’s fists clenched. The shadows around her stirred faintly, drawn to her agitation. “I’ve survived worse than voices,” she spat. “They’re gone now. So I don’t need a checkup. I need answers.”
Katika stepped closer. “You can’t get answers if you’re falling apart from the inside. You’re Gifted, Lili, but you’re not indestructible. Whatever they did to you, whatever’s in your head—we’re going to face it. But not like this.”
There was silence. Heavy. Weighted with past trauma neither of them dared name aloud.
Finally, Lili looked away. “…Fine,” she said, her voice rough. “But I’m only going to prove there’s nothing wrong.”
“Good,” Katika replied, already turning her toward the med wing. “Then Margherita will say the same thing. And we’ll both sleep easier.”
Neither of them said it, but they both knew it wasn’t just about proving Lili was sane. It was about learning whether her body… or her mind… had truly been left her own.
The doors to the medical wing slid open with a hiss.
Inside, Margherita looked up from a tray of instruments, her brows slightly furrowed. “I heard shouting,” she said, setting down a scanner. “What’s going on?”
“She needs a scan,” Katika answered, stepping inside. “Fast.”
Margherita’s eyes moved to Lili—sharp, evaluating, but not judgmental. “Sit.”
“I’m fine,” Lili muttered, but the burn in her skull still throbbed and she obeyed without more protest.
Margherita moved around her, pulling out her scanning device, attaching two sensors to Lili’s temples. “What exactly am I looking for?”
“She heard voices,” Katika said.
Margherita stilled for half a second before continuing. “How long did it last?”
“Not long. A minute, maybe less. But strong enough to stagger her.”
“I said I’m fine,” Lili repeated, sharper this time. “They’re gone now.”
“Gone doesn’t mean harmless,” Margherita replied.
She dimmed the lights slightly and activated the deeper scan. Blue pulses flowed across the monitor, mapping neural patterns, synaptic sparks.
Lili sat rigid on the exam table, her jaw clenched, fingers twitching against her knees. Margherita moved around her, silent, scanning, checking vitals, comparing notes.
Katika stood nearby with her arms crossed, watching closely, trying not to look like she was watching closely.
After several tense minutes, Margherita pulled back with a sigh and removed the sensors from Lili’s temples.
“Well?” Lili asked sharply.
Margherita hesitated. “I found nothing. No neurological anomalies. You’re physically fine.”
Lili blinked. “So you’re saying I imagined it?”
“I didn’t say that,” Margherita replied evenly. “But if the scans show nothing, it may be worth considering the psychological angle.”
Lili stiffened.
“I can schedule you with Dr. Renza,” Margherita added gently. “He’s a gifted trauma psychologist. Given your past… what you’ve endured—it’s not unheard of for the mind to—”
“To what?” Lili’s voice cracked, low and dangerous. “Break? Snap? Start hallucinating?”
“No one said hallucinating—”
“You didn’t have to!” Lili stood with such force the stool scraped backward. Her shadows flared instinctively, writhing in agitation.
She turned, locking eyes with Katika—betrayal etched sharp into her expression. “I knew it. I knew you both would think I’m crazy.”
“Lili—” Katika started, stepping forward.
The infirmary doors slammed behind her as she strode out, leaving a stunned silence in her wake.
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