?Chapter 1229:


    His restrained body convulsed, muscles twisting beneath the straps as sweat poured down his face. Veins stood out starkly against his pale skin.


    The monitors above him flickered with chaotic waves, colors shing across the screens in a wild, erratic rhythm.


    His brain activity had reached a critical point—an explosion of fragmented memories.


    Scenes from his past tore through the static of his mind.


    His parents’ warm smiles blurred into the sight of their graves. Ste’s confident smile, her tearful joy when he ced the ring on her finger.


    All the memories shattered into shes of light, stripped of meaning, converted into data for the cold machines to devour.


    Amid the pain, his lips parted, and a weak whisper escaped. “Ste… Ste…”


    His voice trembled, almost lost beneath the steady hum of the instruments.


    Arlo’s gaze locked onto a section of the monitor. A faint smile formed on his lips.


    The technician beside him worked swiftly, his voice low but steady. “General, we’ve isted the key segment. It matches the predefined keywords. Beginning deep-level extraction.”


    Arlo’s expression hardened into satisfaction.


    From behind the observation ss, Drake watched in stunned silence. The data on the screen confirmed everything—they had found it.


    Time stretched painfully slow. William’s body convulsed again and again. For Nina, trapped just beyond the wall, every scream she imagined felt like a knife twisting deeper into her chest.


    When the machines finally went still, the room fell into an eerie quiet.


    William copsed against the cold metal bed, motionless. His face had gone ashen, his breathing shallow and uneven.


    Arlo removed a small chip from the control unit, sealing it carefully. The data inside—the stolen fragments of William’s mind—gleamed faintly beneath the sterile lights.


    He looked down at William, his expression nk.


    Lɑt?st chαpt?rs ??n g??l??ov????.с??m


    “Keep him alive,” he ordered. “He might still be useful.”


    Then he turned and left the room without a backward nce.


    In the adjoining room, Nina slid weakly to the floor, her back pressed against the cold door. Tears streaked her face, but she barely noticed.


    William’s screams still rang in her head—sharp, raw, impossible to forget. Every echo tore at her like a de.


    She couldn’t save him. She couldn’t even lessen his pain. And the worst part—the part that hollowed her out—was knowing she had helped cause it.


    If she hadn’t believed Drake, if she hadn’t trusted a single word he said, William wouldn’t be trapped in this nightmare.


    Now she didn’t even know if he was still alive.


    Regret, guilt, anger, and helplessness tangled inside her until it hurt to breathe.


    A few minutes passed before the door opened. Drake stepped in, his expression as calm as ever, his voice almost conversational. “See? I told you he wouldn’t die. Arlo got what he wanted, and William’s still valuable. You should be d—he’s not in any real danger.”


    .


    .


    .