The Ultimatum

Guards kicked down the door. They used shock batons. Silas took a hit that dropped him to his knees, blinding him with pain. He heard Lyra screaming, the sound of a struggle, and then silence.

He woke up in the Surgical Theater.

He wasn't strapped down. Lyra was.

She was spread-eagled on the steel table, restraints holding her tight. She was conscious, groggy, blood trickling from a cut above her eye.

Director Kael stood by the instrument tray.

"We had high hopes for you, Silas," Kael said. "Your metrics were perfect. But the biological imperative is stubborn."

Silas tried to stand, but guards held him. "Let her go. She’s just a tool. You used her to test me. The test is over."

"The test is failing," Kael corrected. "But you have one chance to pass."

Kael pointed to the bone drill gleaming on the tray.

"Correct her," Kael said. "Remove the emotional center. Do it, and you live. You resume your work. Refuse..."

One of the guards pulled a serrated combat knife.

"Refuse, and we flay her first. We peel the skin from her body while you watch. Then we do the same to you."

Silas looked at Lyra. She was looking at him. She wasn't crying anymore. Her eyes were clear.

"Silas," she whispered. "Don't let them touch me with the knife. Please."

"Lyra..."

"Kill me," she begged. "Take the mind away. I can't handle the pain, Silas. Please."

Silas looked at the drill. He felt the love welling up in him—a fierce, agonizing fire. He wanted to burn the Citadel to the ground.

But he was a doctor. He knew the odds. If he fought, they died screaming. If he obeyed... she died in spirit, but her body lived. And he lived.

The survival instinct coiled around his heart like a snake.

"Release me," Silas said to the guards.

He walked to the sink. He scrubbed his hands. He pulled on the gloves. *Snap.*

He walked to the table. Lyra looked up at him. Tears leaked from her eyes.

"I love you," she whispered. "Do it."

Silas picked up the drill. He tested the motor. *Whirrrrrrrrr.*

"I love you," Silas said. His voice broke.

He placed the tip of the drill against her temple.

"Forgive me."

He pulled the trigger.

The sound of the drill biting into bone filled the room. Lyra screamed—a high, piercing shriek of absolute betrayal and pain.

Silas didn't stop. He drilled. He cut. He reached into the magnificent, chaotic storm of her mind and he silenced it. He scooped out the fire, the rebellion, the love. He turned the person who had awakened him back into meat.

When he was done, the room was silent. The monitor showed a steady heartbeat. But the eyes staring up at the light were empty.