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When Ellya left, Rodin closed his eyes and focused on his body, concentrating on the throbbing and the sharper pains. His legs were dead weights, but Ellya had been right about them having no sensation—he punched them, then pinched the skin, and couldn’t feel a thing.
So he wasn’t going to walk any time soon. Even if the door was left wide open, he’d still be a prisoner.
Nothing he could do about that.
Rodin shuffled as best he could, each new position only comfortable for a few minutes. He ran his tongue over his teeth, right to the back, remembering what he had to do. But only when the time was right. He wouldn’t get a second chance.
Time passed—too many breaths to count—and then the wall screen clicked, the glass glowing as it initialised.
“I hear you’re awake,” s
