Ch.44: The Message

I clutched the yellow thread like a lifeline, hiding it in the seam of my smock just as the slot in the door slid open. A plastic tray skidded across the floor, carrying a bowl of gray, tepid oatmeal and a carton of lukewarm water. I ignored the nausea pooling in my stomach and crawled toward it, my heart hammering a jagged rhythm against my ribs.

I dug my spoon into the mush, feeling for more than just nourishment. My fingers brushed something hard—a tiny roll of plastic-wrapped paper submerged in the sludge. I palmed it instantly, glancing toward the observation port. The hallway was silent.

I unfurled the scrap of paper under the shadow of my leg. It wasn't written in English. It was a string of numbers and letters—Thorne’s internal logistical shorthand. My brain, still sluggish from the neuroleptics, struggled to decode the symbols.

*10-0-1. 09-S. V-19.*

Panic flared. If this was a test from Aris, I was failing. If it was a trap from Isabella, I was walking right into it. The numbers swam, shifting before my eyes. I closed them, forcing myself to remember the night in the garage with Leo, the way he’d explained the donor tracking system.

*10-0-1* was the code for the primary sire. *Leo.*
*09-S* was the exit protocol for the service tunnels.
*V-19* wasn't a room. It was a date. Today.

I flipped the paper over. In the tiniest, hurried script, three words were scratched into the fiber: *I escaped. Hold on.*

The breath left my lungs in a sharp, jagged hiss. I wasn't crazy. I wasn't a grieving ghost in a padded box. Leo was out there. He hadn't been broken by the security team; he hadn't been "liquidated" by Isabella. He had navigated the concrete throat of the fortress and made it to the other side.

The walls of the cell didn't feel like they were pressing in anymore. They felt like a temporary barricade. I looked at the yellow thread, then at the note, the physical proof of my reality burning a hole in my hand. Leo was coming for us. He was coming for Daisy.

I sat back against the vinyl padding, a cold, sharp smile finally touching my lips. Let Aris talk about my "psychotic break." Let them pump me full of fog. It wouldn't matter.

The Lion is out of the cage.