Page 104 of Twilight Tactics

“Well, I do, and I promise you, while it’s shocking at first, it’s way better than here.”

“Then, yeah, if you can get me out, I’ll go with you.”

Elena hesitated. Her escape plan might not make taking the girl possible. But leaving her here meant subjecting her to continued torture. She shuddered. “How old are you?”

“Seventeen.”

A baby. Elena paced. “If I can’t take you with me, then I’ll make sure I come back for you. You just have to promise to hang on. Understand?”

“Yeah. Sure. Okay.” She didn’t sound convinced, and Elena didn’t know how to reassure her.

She’d already worked through seven potential escape routes. Six simply wouldn’t work. The seventh was a long shot, but it was all she had. If she could just get past the door, she knew every hidden path through these mountains. The problem was the getting-out part. “Do you know where the old mine is?” she asked Maria.

“Yes, I think so.”

“If you can get away, head there, okay?”

“Why?”

“I want you to have a plan. If you get free, head there and I’ll have someone come find you there.”

“Oh. Okay.”

If Elena could get free. That was a big if.

Time ticked past. The council might be meeting tomorrow, but that was just a formality. They’d be coming soon. She tried to prepare herself mentally but dreaded the confrontation. And the confrontation would happen, because she wasn’t getting out of this cell without it.

Elena returned to her cot, curling her knees to her chest. She’d sleep while she could.

The metallic clank of the outer door broke her concentration. Footsteps echoed in the corridor. The lights, previously dim, suddenly blazed to full brightness, stabbing at her closed eyes.

Music blasted through hidden speakers—discordant, atonal noise interspersed with recorded screams. The volume was punishing, designed to prevent sleep and break down resistance. She’d never experienced it personally, just witnessed the aftermath and determined never to find herself exactly where she now found herself.

“Phase one,” Elena muttered, pressing her palms against her ears. The sensory assault was just the beginning. Next would come sleep deprivation, then forced readings of their doctrine, then “confessions” of her sins against the community. And not necessarily in that order. They’d mix it up and keep her guessing what was coming next.

A shadow appeared at her door. The figure wore all black and said nothing. Just knelt and opened the slot at the bottom of the bars. A tray slid through—a cup of water, nothing more. Starvation tactics. So Iris had lied to her. Of course she had. Weaken the body to break the mind. The music assault stopped. Now the silence was deafening.

“Who are you?” Elena asked.

The woman left without acknowledging Elena’s presence.

Silence for the next several seconds.

“Eleanor Higgins.” The voice came through the speakers and was familiar. Owen? From the firepit meeting? Shethought so. “Your reeducation begins now. Meditate on your transgressions.”

Elena didn’t respond. Her mother had told her once upon a time what reeducation entailed and warned that engagement only prolonged the process.

The music blasted into the silence, then it shifted to a recording of a man reading passages from their doctrine, punctuated by those terrible screams. The lights began to strobe, alternating between blinding brightness and complete darkness.

She closed her eyes, focusing on her breathing. In her mind, she recited every Bible verse she’d ever memorized, then mentally redecorated her small apartment—anything to anchor her thoughts against the assault.

“You okay?” Maria’s voice barely carried over the chaos.

“Been through worse,” Elena called back, though she wasn’t sure that was true. “Cover your ears.”

She shifted position, and her aches and pains from the car wreck protested. But those were minor compared to what was coming. She stood to pace the cell. Six steps. Turn. Eight steps. Turn. The movement helped her think.

Everything stopped and a new sound cut through the ringing in her ears—the outer door opening again. Elena returned to her cot and assumed a defeated posture. Footsteps approached, heavier than before.