The faint hum of the surveillance monitors filled the cell block, blending with the steady drip of water from the pipes overhead. Luke leaned against the iron bars, his expression unreadable, eyes fixed on the woman sitting inside the cell.
Amara looked smaller now. Not weak, never that, but hollowed, as though a part of her had been carved away. Her wrists bore the faint red marks of the cuffs, and her dark hair fell over her face as she sat silently on the edge of the metal cot.
Luke watched her for a long moment before speaking.
“You’ve been quiet for hours.”
Amara slowly looked up. “What do you want me to say?”
“Something that makes sense,” Luke replied evenly. “Because right now, nothing does.”
She held his gaze, her dark eyes steady. “Then maybe you should tell me what exactly
