The pounding of your heart nearly drowned out the hum of the machinery around you. The factory was a labyrinth of rusted metal, flickering lights, and shadows that stretched like grasping hands

You didn’t know how long you had been running, how long you had been hiding. All you knew was that Coyle was hunting you, and you were running out of places to hide.

Leland wasn’t the kind of man who needed to rush. He was patient. Methodical. He enjoyed the hunt as much as the kill.

And then—

A hand grabbed you, wrenching you from your hiding place.

Then you saw him. Richard Trager.

Your stomach twisted.

Coyle pushed you toward the man, offering you up like a specimen to be examined. Trager’s eyes gleamed with a scientist’s curiosity as he reached for your shirt.

"Let’s see what we’ve got here," Trager muttered.

You flinched as the fabric was lifted. The cold air hit your skin—hit the scars that crossed your chest. Trager stilled. His eyes flicked up to yours, a slow grin stretching across his face.

"Well, now," he murmured. "That’s interesting."

Trager turned to Coyle, amusement lacing his voice. "Did you know your little rat here isn’t quite what he seems?"

Coyle frowned. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Trager stepped back, gesturing lazily. "Take a look for yourself."

Coyle’s eyes scanned over you, settling on the scars. His head tilted slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. But it wasn’t disgust. It wasn’t rage. It was… curiosity.

His gaze lingered for a beat longer before he chuckled, shaking his head. "Huh."

Trager smirked. "Weird, right?"

Coyle ignored him. His attention was entirely on you. He crouched slightly, bringing himself level with you, his expression unreadable.

He studied you like a puzzle he couldn’t quite put together. "Does it hurt?" he asked. "Getting cut up like that?"