Page 80 of Daddy Erik
Without me realizing it, my breathing has become shallow, and each breath catches somewhere high in my chest as we move deeper into something that feels less like a structure and more like a part of Hell none of us anticipated.
We hit another door that is locked. This one doesn't fight back. It opens too easily when you push on it, and the latch gives way. That raises red flags more than the reinforced steel did, because nothing in this place should be easy.
The next room is smaller and almost clinical in its simplicity. Steel counters line the walls, and there is only one rolling workstation under harsh overhead light.
I look around once and stop. There is a clipboard on the counter. The document is in a plastic sleeve with a barcode. As I walk toward it, something inside me goes still, and the sounds in the room fade away, as if the world is getting smaller again, whether I want it or not.
I already know. Before I even see it, I understand. I slowly and carefully lift the plastic with my hand, and then I notice it.
NAME: BENNETT, CLAIRE ID: CE-14 STATUS: ACTIVE PRODUCTION UNIT
There are countless other names, with varying statuses. My mind is swimming…there are others here that are suffering. My vision gets clearer and clearer until everything else fades away,and the edges of the room blur as the page in front of me becomes the only thing that matters.
The first line is where you put in the person’s weight. Before they took them away. My grip gets tighter as I look down. Every number goes up. Something is twisting hard in my stomach, so hard that I have to change my position to stay upright. The implications are sinking in, whether I want them to or not.
I feel Rurik step in behind me, his presence close before he suddenly stops.
"Erik..." His voice gets lower and rougher, as if he would rather not finish what he was saying. "Is that what I think it is?"
I can't talk to him. My throat feels like it has sand in it, and every time I try to swallow, it gets stuck halfway down.
I turn the page. Logs of milk production. Claire’s note reads:YIELD WENT UP 87%, RESPONSE: GREAT. PREPARATION FOR PHASE TWO: IN PROCESS. PHYSIOLOGICAL CHANGES: EXPECTED. SEDATION: FOLLOW BOTTLE PROTOCOL.
My hand grips the plastic tightly until it bends and breaks along the edge with a loud snap that echoes in the small space. They turned her into data.
They didn't just take her, they changed her. They transformed her body into a system. Something moves in my peripheral vision. I turn. There is a harness hanging on the wall.
The straps are robust, designed to securely hold and restrain whatever they embrace, regardless of its attempts to escape. The interior lining is deliberately soft, ensuring it won't irritate the skin, allowing for repeated use.
Before I reconsider, my hand rises and my fingers graze the fabric, sensing the contrast between the rigid exterior and the gentle interior.
Rage hits me so hard that the edges of my vision blur. It's red, sharp, and immediate. My jaw hurts from clenching it tokeep my rage in check. I almost lose my balance, but I manage to regain my composure just in time.
Bjorn's fingers dig into my shoulder, yanking me back, as if he could keep me from completely surrendering to the moment. "Brother," he says, his voice low but strong. "Look at me." It takes work, but I raise my head. I swallow hard, pushing past the pain in my throat and getting air back into my lungs in a way that feels like control.
"I want her in my arms NOW," I growl loudly.
Bjorn nods once, without thinking. "Then we go into every room until she's in your arms." My hand rests fully on the harness, gripping it more tightly. This makes me feel more grounded in the fact that this is real, that she was here, and that she is still here.
"Hold on for me, Claire," I say in a low voice, my throat tight with everything I'm forcing into it. "I'm almost there."
I let it go. Take a deep breath. And when I look back at the others, something has changed. "Where is the next door?" I ask, my voice a bit lower now but more pointed, cutting straight to the heart of the matter.
Leif immediately checks his scanner, then begins moving and recalculating his route. Soren points forward, sharp and clear. Ivar and Rurik roll their shoulders and crack their knuckles, as if they've been waiting for the time when they don't have to hold back anymore. Stellan whispers something that I can't hear, but I don't need to hear it to know that it's meant to calm and center.
And me, I have purpose. Claire is waiting somewhere up ahead, past another hallway, another door, and another layer of whatever they built to keep her hidden. And I won't let anything get in the way of us anymore. I push the broken clipboard aside, hold my weapon tighter, and move forward.
"Move," I growl, the word low and final. The team surges with me, and the movement starts up again, faster and sharperthis time. The hallway ahead of me is long, humming with fluorescent lights and doors on either side. The metallic scent of disinfectant is thick in the air.
But something, instinct, gravity, or soul, pulls me left. “Second door,” I say.
The agents pause, but my brothers don’t. We move together, silent and lethal. My heart is pounding, but not from fear. Bjorn gestures to the SWAT team, who line up, two to each side.
I step forward. “No flashbang,” I say. My voice is low and dangerous. “We do this clean.”
One of the federal agents hesitates. “Halvorsen, we need to.”
“This isMYwoman.” I turn and burn him alive with my stare. “You will not blind her. You will open that door, and you will stand back.”
