The headquarters was silent when they returned.
Lyric sat at her station, her hands trembling, her face pale. She'd been quiet since the rescue—processing, Slade knew. The trauma of being taken, of being used as bait, of facing the Foundation's cold indifference. He'd seen that look before. In soldiers. In survivors. In himself.
Slade walked to her station. "Lyric. Talk to me."
She looked up, her eyes hollow. "She knew everything. The woman who took me. She knew about my sister. About my past. About things I've never told anyone."
"Who was she?"
"She didn't give a name. But she said something. She said the Foundation has been watching me since I was a child. They knew I'd eventually find my way to you."
Slade's jaw tightened. "They've been playing a long game."
"Longer than we thoug
