?Chapter 1232:


    Nina clutched Drake’s arm as though grasping herst thread of hope, her voice trembling with desperation. “How’s William? What has Arlo done to him? Please—let me see him!”


    Drake gently pried her hand away, his face calm, almost indifferent. “Miss Carter, you can rx. William isn’t in immediate danger—I can promise you that. Arlo’s methods may be… a little harsh, but he knows how to value talent.”


    A faint chuckle escaped him before he added, “Someone like William would be a waste to lose. He is simply undergoing some training right now. It’ll do him good once he wakes.”


    Nina’s pulse spiked. “Training? What kind of training?”


    “That’s not your concern.” Drake waved her off casually and turned toward the door.


    “If you keep quiet and cooperate, I might put in a good word for you with Arlo—maybe even spare your life. Don’t forget, you’re the one who came to me, asking to join forces against Ste. We’re bound together now, and backing out isn’t an option.”


    His words hit like a bucket of ice water, extinguishing the faint spark of hope that had just flickered in her chest.


    She had no one to me but herself.


    Drake and Arlo were cut from the same ruthless cloth—expecting decency from them had been foolish.


    But she couldn’t sit here waiting for death. That wasn’t who she was.


    Even in fear, her instincts pushed her to act.


    Every day, someone delivered her meals at the same time, and she often heard the steady rhythm of footsteps outside—guards changing shifts, most likely.


    Each time, she pressed her ear against the door, carefully noting the sounds and timing. Bit by bit, she began piecing together their routine.


    From her window, she could see part of thepound outside. Though she couldn’t leave the room, she studied every detail she could—the fences, the corners, the lights.


    She didn’t yet know how this information would help her, but it was something. A lifeline.


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    She had to find a way to escape—or at least contact someone beyond these walls.


    Elsewhere—deep inside a fortified undergroundboratory—Williamy motionless, surrounded by blinking monitors and cold machinery.


    Since the day Arlo’s team extracted his memories, William had been confined to a high-tech medical pod, wires and sensors covering nearly every inch of his body.


    Most of the time, he was kept in a drug-induceda. But even in that state, his brain remained restless—overstimted by powerful neurochemicals.


    Arlo paid psychologists and hypnotists to target William’s memories, rotating them in relentless shifts.


    They took fragments of William’s memories of Ste, dissected them, twisted them, and then reinserted the altered versions into his subconscious.


    In a dim hypnosis chamber bathed in eerie blue light, a voice murmured steadily in his ear.


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