10

Short of Mike’s idle chattering and cheerful sounds, another cloud of gloomy silence overtakes the warehouse I stroke his hair, greedily feeding off his bright energy. It’s hard to believe that I was once like him—carefree, cheerful, and utterly unaware of the disaster that was brewing in the background. Those times feel like forever ago. “We’ll have to limit these meetings now that you’re in special ops,” Uncle Albert announces. My fingers come to a halt in Mike’s hair, and his father must pick up on the change in my demeanor since he elaborates, “It’s not safe.” “But I can at least see you and Mike once in a while, right?” “No, Sasha. Leaving the base to meet your supposedly dead family members will only warrant attention. That’s the last thing we need.” My chin trembles, and I hate having the sudden urge to cry. The wound that’s been pulsing beneath my flesh for four years gnaws and rips at the surface. It’s like I’m in the middle of that blood all over again. I’m losing the remnant