The heavy iron doors of the Citadel’s subterranean interrogation facility sealed shut with a hydraulic hiss, locking out the freezing mountain draft. Deep beneath the central plaza, the air was thick with the smell of ozone, cold iron, and old dust.
Bound to an obsidian chair at the center of the reinforced chamber sat Major Vane,a high-ranking Capital intelligence officer captured during the failed assault on the agricultural sector. His cybernetic power armor had been stripped away, leaving him in a torn black uniform. Despite his bloody lip and bruised ribs, his face remained locked in a rigid, military mask.
Gideon and I stood on the opposite side of the steel table. The dual mark on our joined hands cast a warm, golden shadow radiance across the dark stone walls.
"You're wasting yo
