Operation: Threads of Connection

Realize

Anya's POV:

Papa exhaled as he looked between mama and I. Only one of us gets to get out of here.. The choice is simple.

It has to be my family.

"Please.. Let my family go, I'll do anything!" I cried out. I could hear the desperation in my own voice, but it sounded small—like it didn't belong to me.

Reed laughed, a cold, cruel sound that sent a chill down my spine. He glanced at Papa with a smirk that twisted his features, as if savoring our helplessness. "Looks like your daughter has chosen her own fate."

"Leave her out of his you bastard! You tortured all those kids, all those animals, when will it stop?!" Papa sneered as he stepped forward, his voice shaking with fury and something deeper—fear. Not for himself, but for me.

Reed didn't flinch. In fact, he seemed amused, like he was watching a performance he'd seen too many times. "When will it stop?" he echoed mockingly, turning his back to us for a moment before pacing slowly in front of the cell. "You still don't get it, Forger. This is the future. Your daughter? She's not some innocent child anymore. She's a key. One of the last pieces in a plan you were too blind to see forming right under your nose."

My blood ran cold. Papa's fists were clenched, his face pale.

"Anya! Don't do it!" Damian cried out, the guards tightening their grip on him.

"Damian..I-I have to.. For my family"

Damian shook his head, "No, Anya you don't because he doesn't know the truth,"

I looked at him confused, what was he referring to? Papas eyes widened as the realization hit him as well.

Reed looked sharply at Damian, the amusement in his eyes vanishing like a snuffed flame. "What did you say?" he asked, his voice suddenly low and dangerous.

Damian took a deep breath despite the guards holding him back. His gaze locked with mine—steady, desperate, and burning with something I couldn't quite name. "She's not just a key, Reed," he said, his voice louder now. "She's the key because of what you did to her. You modified her. You experimented on her."

My breath hitched. What?

Reed narrowed his eyes. "Careful, boy."

Damian ignored him. "She doesn't remember it, but I do. I saw the files. The test logs. The failed trials. Anya wasn't just a subject—she was the only success. That's why you've been watching her all these years. That's why you're so obsessed."

My knees buckled slightly. The guard steadying me with trembling arms.

Papa was frozen in place. "That can't be true," he muttered. But the horror in his eyes said he was already piecing it together. All the strange episodes, the memory gaps, the unnatural things I could do... it made sense. And it made me sick.

"I wanted to tell you," Damian said, straining against the guards, "but I didn't know how. I thought I'd protect you by keeping it buried. But Reed—he doesn't want to save the world with you. He wants to control it."

Reed's calm demeanor shattered. "Silence!" he barked, drawing a gun from his coat. "You think you're brave? You think exposing the truth will stop me?!"

He turned the weapon toward Damian, his hand trembling slightly.

"No!" I screamed, breaking free of the guard and rushing forward.

Papa lunged at the bars, his voice raw. "Don't you dare touch that boy!"

But Reed didn't shoot.

Instead, he laughed again—hollow, like a man laughing at his own funeral. "You think this changes anything? The truth is a liability in a world ruled by fear." He turned back to me. "You're still coming with me, Anya. That was the deal."

My fists clenched. Something deep inside me stirred—something old and aching. My ears rang, but I could hear thoughts again—his thoughts.

He was afraid.

Not of Damian. Not of Papa. Of me.

Because he knew what I was capable of.