Chapter Fourteen
At first, all I noticed was the sick taste in my mouth and a dull thudding behind my right ear. Then harsh white light invaded my world as I opened my eyes.
An unfamiliar voice said, “Ms. O’Brien.”
I blinked, and saw a man wearing one of the familiar black suits standing a few feet away from me. We were in a room very similar to the cell I’d rescued Paul from — rock walls and floor, narrow little cot. I lay on the cot now, although I had no recollection of how I’d gotten there. A hybrid soldier stood guard at the door.
“Ms. O’Brien,” the man said again.
He had the sort of face you might pass in a crowd and not look at twice — not young, not old, not ugly, not handsome. His eyes were pale, his hair dark.
I struggled to sit up, and nausea swirled through me. Diggin
