Jace Strickland POV

  Henry and I stood outside the observation rooms, the weight of what we had to do pressing down on us. We had interrogated plenty of people before, but these two were different. They weren’t just holding back information—they were in control of the silence. And that was dangerous.

  “We should split up,” Henry said, folding his arms. “We need to approach them separately. Figure out what makes them tick.”

  I nodded. “Agreed. You take the older one. I’ll handle the younger one.”

  Henry smirked. “Think she’s more your type?”

  I rolled my eyes. “I think she’s the one more likely to talk. The older one carries herself like she’s royalty. The younger one—she’s watching, analyzing. She might be more open to engagement.”

  Henry glanced back at the observation window. “So, how do we play this?”

  “We start by building a relationship,” I said, exhaling slowly. “They’ve resisted force, intimidation, even psychological tricks. We need to make them want to talk. But we also have to make it clear—this is a serious situation. They can’t just sit in silence forever.”

  Henry nodded. “So, a balance between pressure and patience.”

  “Exactly,” I said. “Give them room to talk, but don’t let them think we’re playing games.”

  Hail approached, arms crossed. “You two have a plan?”

  “We’re splitting up,” Henry said. “I take the older one, Strickland takes the younger. We’re going in with the intent to build trust first, but we won’t let them think this is anything less than serious.”

  Hail nodded, his expression unreadable. “Do what you have to do, but get something out of them. We don’t have the luxury of waiting forever.”

  I turned back toward the door leading into the interrogation room. “Let’s see what they’re really waiting for.”

  I stepped inside.

  Thriexa POV

  The walls hummed.

  A steady, mechanical vibration pulsed through the sterile, artificial space, so different from the natural harmony of the worlds I had known before. Cold. Lifeless. Isolated.

  The room was bare—gray walls, a metal table, two chairs. A single overhead light buzzed softly, casting sharp angles across the space. There was no warmth, no color, nothing alive here.

  The humans had placed me here days ago after I gave myself up on the island. In my mind, I could still feel my mother’s presence, a soft thread of consciousness linking us across the walls that separated us. She was calm. That reassured me.

  The facility smelled of disinfectant and electricity, an odd combination I had not encountered before. It clung to the air, sharp and unnatural, like something designed to scrub the essence of life from the space it occupied.

  I was being watched.

  Beyond the smooth, glassy panel on the wall, I could feel their intentions pressing against the air—a cluster of minds, swirling with confusion, suspicion, and something sharper beneath it all. Fear.

  Fear of me.

  Fear of what they could not explain.

  I remained still, composed. I would not give them more reason to fear me.

  The last time I was in a room like this, it had been different. That planet’s people had been kinder, their approach more curious than cautious. These humans, however… they were something else entirely.

  I had observed them in the few short days since our arrival. They were driven by instinct, by emotion so raw and overwhelming that even Tocci had struggled to process it all. They were erratic, unpredictable, and yet… fascinating.

  A faint vibration in the walls signaled movement outside the door. Footsteps.

  The air shifted as the latch clicked. The door swung open.

  A human stepped inside. Not like the others.

  His presence was steady, his energy focused. He carried tension in his frame, but it was not the blind, erratic kind of tension I had sensed before. He was studying me. Measuring me.

  I tilted my head slightly, watching as he took a seat. His sharp blue eyes flicked over me, assessing, reading, just as I was reading him.

  This one… he would be different.

  His appearance was striking—dark hair, neatly cut, but not without a touch of carelessness, as though he had better things to do than worry about every strand being in place. His jawline was strong, his build athletic, but it was his gaze that held my attention. Sharp, curious, observant. There was no malice in his expression, only determination. He was here to learn, not to break me.

  I closed my eyes briefly and focused, letting my ability settle over him. Intentions were easier to read when emotions ran strong, and his were swirling beneath the surface, even if he held them in check. Curiosity. Uncertainty. A duty to protect. He did not fear me, but he feared the unknown, and that was why he was here—to determine if I was a threat or an ally.

  Mother.

  Her voice reached me almost instantly, calm and steady. Yes, child?

  I like this one. I kept my eyes on him as he took a seat. He is not here to harm us. He is only trying to protect his people from what he doesn’t understand.

  Interesting, my mother responded. The one speaking to me carries the same intentions. They are men of duty, not cruelty.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  I let the silence stretch between me and the human, watching, waiting. He would make his first move soon, and I would decide if I would respond.

  He leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the table between us. “My name is Jace Strickland,” he said, his voice steady, but not forceful. “I work for the FBI. I specialize in interrogations—getting people to talk. But I prefer when they talk willingly.”

  I observed him carefully, reading his intent. He was telling the truth. He had no interest in cruelty, but there was urgency in his words.

  “This situation you’re in is serious,” he continued. “I know you know that. You and the woman next door—you’re at the center of something that no one understands. People above me are growing impatient. Right now, I’m the one standing between you and whatever comes next. And believe me, you want to deal with me first.”

  His words held weight. He was offering me an opportunity—to shape the narrative before someone more aggressive took his place. A small but strategic opening.

  “I don’t know who you are, or where you’re from,” he admitted. “But I do know that silence won’t protect you forever. If you’re here in peace, then we need to start talking about what that means. If you’re not—” He let the sentence hang in the air, unspoken but understood.

  I watched his face for any sign of deceit. There was none. He was speaking with sincerity. He was trying to make sense of a situation that defied logic, and I could feel the weight of his duty pressing on him.

  Mother, he is trying to reason with me, I thought, my mind reaching out to her again.

  Do you think he is the one to trust? she asked, her tone measured.

  He is not cruel. He is cautious, protective of his people, but not ruthless. He is willing to listen.

  Then you must be the one to decide, she responded. I will continue in silence. This is your turn to protect our people, Thriexa.

  Her words settled over me, heavier than I expected. I had always been the learner, the observer. Now, it was my responsibility to act.

  Jace exhaled, tapping his fingers lightly against the table. “Let’s start simple. What’s your name?”

  The question lingered between us, pressing against me. Silence had been my shield, my defense. But now, I had to decide what came next.

  I parted my lips, but no sound came at first. My throat was dry, unused to speech after so many days of silence. I swallowed and tried again. “Thriexa.”

  My voice was hoarse, weaker than I wanted it to be. But I had spoken.

  Jace leaned in slightly, his expression unreadable. “Thriexa,” he repeated, as if testing the weight of it. Then his brows furrowed slightly. “Is that your name?”

  I considered his question carefully. “It is what you may call me,” I said, my voice still rough from disuse. I watched as he processed my words, his mind working through their meaning.

  “Alright,” he said slowly. “That’s something.”

  I tilted my head slightly. “Before I tell you more about the island, I would like to get to know you better. You seek to understand me, but I also must understand you.”

  Jace studied me for a moment before nodding. “That’s fair. What do you want to know?”

  I let my gaze drift toward the small, closed-off room, the artificial lights casting everything in a dull, lifeless glow. “I have not been outside in five rotations. I would like to breathe the fresh air of this world and feel the heat of this sun on my skin.”

  His brows lifted slightly at my choice of words. “Rotations? You mean days? And ‘this sun’? You talk like you’re from somewhere else.”

  I did not confirm or deny his assumption. Instead, I met his gaze evenly. “Would you deny a prisoner the right to feel the warmth of their sky? If I am allowed to go outside, I will start to open up.”

  Jace nodded slowly, his sharp blue eyes studying me. “I’ll see what I can do, but I need something to tell my supervisors before I get you outside. They’re not going to just let you out without some kind of assurance.”

  I watched him for a moment, intrigued. He was negotiating, measuring his leverage. I liked that.

  “Then I will give you something,” I said, my voice still rasping from disuse. “My mother and I are ambassadors for our people. We came here to establish communication, to prevent misunderstandings. Our people are on the island, and we are their voice.”

  Jace nodded slightly, his expression shifting as he processed my words. “The other woman—she’s your mother?”

  I inclined my head in confirmation. “Yes.”

  Jace exhaled, rubbing a hand along his jaw. “Alright. That’s something solid. I’ll talk to my supervisor and see what I can do about getting you outside.”

  I studied him, reading his resolve. He was direct, pragmatic, but not inflexible. He was the kind of human who sought to understand before acting. I found that agreeable.

  Jace Strickland POV

  I stepped out of the interrogation room and found Henry leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Hail stood beside him, his usual stiff stance giving away his impatience.

  “Any luck?” I asked, already suspecting the answer.

  Henry shook his head. “Nothing. The older one won’t say a word. She barely even acknowledges me. It’s like I don’t exist.”

  Hail exhaled sharply. “That’s not what I wanted to hear. We need something, and we need it soon.”

  I nodded, glancing toward Thriexa’s observation room. “She gave me a start. She wants to go outside.”

  Henry frowned. “Outside? That’s her condition for talking?”

  “She says she’ll start opening up if she gets fresh air and feels the heat of this sun on her skin. She hasn’t been outside in five rotations—her words, not mine.”

  Hail crossed his arms. “And you believe her?”

  I met his gaze. “I believe she wants something from us, and that means we can use it. She and her mother aren’t just captives—they’re ambassadors for their people. Their people are on the island, and they’re here to establish communication. That’s what she told me.”

  Henry let out a low whistle. “So, they’re not just survivors of some lost civilization. They came here intentionally.”

  Hail frowned, considering this. “And you think she’ll give us more if she gets to go outside?”

  I nodded. “That’s the deal she’s offering.”

  Hail rubbed his chin, silent for a few moments. “I’ll see what I can do, but Strickland, you better make sure she delivers. If we let her outside and she still refuses to talk, I won’t be as patient.”

  I gave a sharp nod. “Understood. But I think she will.”

  I wasn’t sure why, but I had a feeling that once Thriexa made a promise, she kept it.

  Hail exhaled and straightened. “I’ll make the arrangements. It might take a few hours, but I’ll get her outside.”

  Without another word, he turned and strode down the hall, leaving me alone with Henry. The moment the door shut behind him, Henry let out a long breath.

  “Alright, Strickland. What the hell do you think is going on here?”

  I crossed my arms, thinking. “They aren’t prisoners. They don’t act like prisoners. They’re calm, controlled, and they’re playing a long game. If they’re telling the truth about being ambassadors, then their people are organized and deliberate. This isn’t some accidental discovery—they came here on purpose.”

  Henry nodded, rubbing his chin. “Which means we have to assume their people on the island are waiting for something. Or someone.”

  “Exactly,” I said. “And if they are telling the truth, it makes sense why they won’t break under pressure. They believe they’re in the right, and that patience is their strongest weapon.”

  Henry exhaled, shaking his head. “That’s dangerous. That means they won’t crack like a normal detainee. They’ll just wait us out. And if they think they’re in the right, they’ll endure whatever we throw at them.”

  I frowned. “And the older one? She won’t talk at all?”

  “Henry shook his head. “Not a word.”

  I exhaled. “Thriexa told me that the older woman is her mother. So we know their relationship isn’t just political—it’s personal. But she isn’t deferring to her mother—she’s the one taking the lead. She was the first to break the silence, the one negotiating. That means she’s making the decisions, at least for now.“”

  Henry frowned. “Then why is Thriexa the one negotiating and not her mother?”

  I sighed. “Maybe because Thriexa wants to. She was the first to speak, the first to negotiate. The mother remains silent, but that doesn’t mean she’s the one in charge right now. Thriexa is making the choices, deciding what to share and when. That tells me she’s the one leading this conversation—not just following orders.”

  Henry leaned back against the wall, shaking his head. “This is bigger than we thought. And we still don’t know if they’re a threat.”

  I glanced toward the observation room again, watching Thriexa through the one-way glass. “We’ll find out soon enough.”