The scout blinked against the afternoon glare, pupils slow to adjust. Bloodshot veins spiderwebbed across his eyes, his jaw locked tight, and his chest rose with the measured rhythm of someone trained to control panic. The cords binding his wrists dug into the bark of the tree behind him—Sienna's knots, Evelyn's reinforcement, and my final pass to make sure nothing slipped.
No tension in his shoulders. No pleading. Just a soldier's stillness. Waiting. Calculating.
He hadn't spoken since waking.
I didn't offer him the comfort of silence.
"How many scouts were deployed to this island?"
His answer came with a snort—more muscle memory than amusement. "Just the three of us."
[Lie Detection Activated]
The pulse came instantly—like pressure shifting behind my ears. A subtle distortion. A twist in the air where the truth should've been.
"That's a lie," I said, voice flat.
He didn't blink. Didn't ask how I knew.
