The heat was the first thing that broke. It wasn't just the fire consuming the laboratory; it was the warmth I had felt for Razack for all those months. It shrivelled up inside me like a dead leaf, leaving nothing but a cold, hollow ache.
He was your handler.
The Matriarch’s words echoed in my head, louder than the explosions rocking the foundation of the Cradle. Every touch, every protective glance, every time he had held me while I cried it was all a job. He wasn't my savior. He was my jailer.
"Christine! The kids!" Maricha’s voice screamed through the roar of the flames.
I looked at the two children. They were huddled near the bulkhead door, their small faces pale with terror. Then I looked down into the abyss where Razack was clinging to a jagged piece of rebar, the dark amber flui
