The silence after Lucian left was a physical weight, pressing down on Jace. But beneath it, a tremor started, a low hum of pure, unadulterated rage. His breath hitched and stuttered, each inhale a ragged gasp against the burning knot in his chest. His mother. Leo. The images on the screen flashed behind his eyelids, stark and horrifyingly real. Lucian's cold, precise threat echoed in his ears, a venomous whisper that ignited a firestorm in Jace's gut.

  He curled his fingers, slowly, methodically, testing the limits of movement. His entire body was sore—his ribs throbbed from Lucian’s brutal punches, his limbs felt like they had been wrung dry, but none of it mattered. The only thing that did was getting up.

  A deep breath.

  Jace yanked his right arm forward. The restraint didn’t budge. His muscles burned, still weak from the hours of captivity. He gritted his teeth, pushing through the pain. Again. Harder this time. The metal groaned, the sound barely audible over his heavy breathing.

  Again! With a sharp crack, the restraint snapped free. His arm dropped limply to his side, but he didn’t waste time savoring the victory. He reached for his left wrist, fingers fumbling against the reinforced strap. His grip was weak, but he pressed on, pulling, twisting, forcing the lock loose.

  His legs were next. His body screamed in protest as he wrenched himself free, but he shoved the pain aside. Every second wasted was a second Lucian still controlled him. That thought alone was enough to push him forward.

  He swung his legs off the metal slab, his bare feet hitting the cold floor. He staggered but caught himself, using the wall for balance. His breathing was uneven, his head pounding, but the fire inside him burned brighter than the pain. His gaze locked onto the steel door across the room.

  He reeled his fist back. One hit. That’s all it would take.

  But before he could strike...The ringing returned.

  Jace’s world shattered. A piercing, unnatural frequency tore through his skull, splitting his thoughts apart like jagged glass. His muscles locked up instantly, his veins turning to ice as an unbearable weight pressed against every nerve in his body. His vision swam, his balance faltering.

  No, no, not again.

  He gasped, his throat closing up, his chest tightening as though invisible chains were wrapping around him. He stumbled, his legs giving out beneath him. His body crumpled to the floor, limp and useless, his fingers twitching weakly against the concrete. His mind screamed at his muscles to move, to fight, but nothing responded.

  His breath came in short, panicked bursts. The cold seeped into his skin, his cheek pressed against the freezing floor. The fire that had been roaring inside him just moments ago was gone—snuffed out in an instant, leaving nothing but crushing silence.

  How long had it been? Minutes? Hours? Jace didn’t know. All he knew was that he was trapped, not by walls, not by restraints, but by his own body.

  A shuddering breath escaped him, uneven and shaky. His vision blurred—not from exhaustion, not from pain, but from something else entirely. His throat burned, his chest tightening with something unfamiliar. His breath hitched. His eyes stung.

  Tears? No! His jaw clenched so hard it ached, his hands trembling against the ground. He couldn’t cry. He wouldn’t.

  But it was there, choking him, clawing at the edges of his control. The frustration, the helplessness, the gut-wrenching realization that no matter how much he fought, Lucian could do this to him whenever he wanted. He could snap his fingers, press a button, and Jace would be nothing more than a broken marionette on the floor.

  And the worst part? Lucian knew it!

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Lucian’s Office

  The room was dimly lit, the cold glow of monitors casting eerie reflections across the polished desk. Lucian stood with his back to the room, arms crossed behind him as he watched the live feed of Jace, still motionless on the floor. The sight was… satisfying.

  Behind him, a technician shifted uneasily. “Sir, the implant wasn’t designed for long-term use. Prolonged exposure to the frequency could cause nerve deterioration. If we keep pushing it, it could kill him. Lucian barely spared the man a glance. “I don’t care.”

  The words were final. Dismissive. He turned his attention back to the screen, watching as Jace’s fingers twitched slightly—his only sign of life. “Keep the frequency running for another hour. Then bring him back.”

  The technician hesitated but nodded, pressing a button on the control panel. The sharp ringing continued.

  Lucian smiled.

  /////Hours Later///

  The sound of the steel door sliding open barely registered in Jace’s haze of exhaustion. He was still on the floor, his body drenched in sweat, his limbs stiff and aching from hours of paralysis. His breathing was shallow, his mind sluggish, but he forced himself to open his eyes.

  Lucian stepped inside, his boots clicking against the floor as he approached. He crouched down to Jace’s level, studying him with mild amusement. “Disappointing,” he mused, shaking his head. “I thought you’d put up more of a fight.”

  Jace’s fingers curled weakly into fists, but his body refused to obey anything beyond that.

  Lucian leaned in, his voice low and mocking. “Do you know what you’ve done, Dynamo? You cost us our only lead on The Maker. Now, thanks to your little stunt, he knows we’re closing in. He’ll be harder to track, harder to catch.” He let the words settle, then added, “And those people you oh-so-heroically detached from the machines? They could’ve been valuable sources of information. But now?” He tsked. “They’re useless.”

  Jace forced a glare, his breaths slow and labored.

  Lucian’s smirk widened. “And this?” He tapped two fingers against Jace’s temple, triggering a fresh wave of dizziness. “This little episode you’ve been having? That’s an implant in your spine disrupting your nervous system. Installed during your early physiological tests.”

  Jace’s mind reeled. “...What?” His voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper.

  Lucian chuckled, standing to his full height. “Did you really think all those tests were harmless?” He shook his head. “You were injected with it when you first joined. You probably don’t even remember.”

  A flicker of memory surfaced—cold metal against his back, a slight pinch of pain, a lab worker murmuring something about a blood draw.

  He had been played. From the very beginning.

  His body shook—not from the implant, not from exhaustion, but from sheer, unbridled fury. He dug his fingers into the floor, willing himself to move, to stand, to do something.

  He pushed. His arms trembled, his muscles locking up, but he pushed.

  Lucian watched in amusement as Jace struggled to rise. He made it barely an inch before his strength gave out, his body collapsing once more. Lucian chuckled, shaking his head. “Pathetic.”

  Jace gritted his teeth, hating the way his vision blurred again, the way his chest tightened with something dangerously close to despair.

  Lucian crouched down, gripping Jace’s chin and forcing him to meet his gaze. “You’re free to go,” he said smoothly, “but you’d better be ready when I call for you.” His grip tightened. “Because now that you’ve screwed this up? You have so much more work to do.”

  He let go, standing up and turning toward the door. Jace lay there, his fists clenched, his breath slow and ragged. He had never hated anyone more.

  Jace barely made it to the teleportation chamber, his body sluggish and weak from hours of paralysis. Every step sent fresh pain through his nerves, but he forced himself forward. The cold metal floor steadied beneath him as a technician wordlessly input his destination. A pulse of energy surged through him—an instant of weightlessness—then he was home.

  Silence.

  The house felt empty in a way it never had before. The familiar walls, the framed pictures—unchanged, yet distant, like remnants of a life that no longer belonged to him. His vision blurred as exhaustion crashed over him. He took a single step before his legs gave out.

  Jace collapsed, knees hitting the floor with a dull thud. His breath hitched as he curled in on himself, arms wrapping around his legs, pulling them tight to his chest. His body trembled—whether from pain, exhaustion, or the storm raging inside him, he didn’t know.

  Then, the first sob tore from his throat, raw and broken.

  It started slow—sharp inhales, shaky exhales—but quickly spiraled. His shoulders shook violently as he buried his face in his arms, tears spilling freely. He had fought so hard to hold it in, to keep himself together, but now—away from Lucian, away from the suffocating weight of the CDE—he couldn’t fight it anymore.

  His hunger for heroism had led him here, into something far darker than he ever imagined.

  He had wanted to help people, to matter in a greater way. But all he had done was make things worse. His mother was in danger. Leo was in danger. He thought he had the power to protect them, but it wasn’t enough. Lucian had proven that in the cruelest way possible.

  No matter how hard he fought, he was still just a tool in their hands, a pawn they could control.

  And for the first time, Jace truly felt powerless.