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MATEO STALKED AWAY from the Runners, joining Councilor Sterne in the center of the conference room.
A low mechanical rumbling filled the room. A thin crack appeared in the black wall’s textured surface, running in a straight line from floor to ceiling. A flickering greenish glow emanated from the crack as it expanded, bathing the Councilor in its eerie light.
Councilor Sterne savored the emotions swirling in the room around him—the anticipation, the curiosity, and the fear. The fear was the strongest.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of his colleagues slink away, escaping through the nearest door into the medical facility. He took note of the coward’s identity.
Darcy Peterson, the smooth-talking hothead. He’d always underestimated the political power which came from aligning with the Givers.
He won’t get far. Peace Wardens are stationed at every exit. The Councilor banished him from his thoughts.
Ethan, his loyal aide, came to stand beside him. Sterne smiled, reveling in his young assistant’s adulation.
At the other end of the room, the prisoners watched in stunned silence, spellbound. Logan took an involuntary step forward, his face alight with eager anticipation.
The mechanical rumbling continued, louder than before. The dull black wall separated into two halves, the thin crack swiftly morphing into a gaping crevice.
A droning vibration filled the air, and Sterne felt the static electricity tingling on his skin. He squinted, resisting the urge to raise a hand to shield his eyes. Green-tinged light, crackling with spidery bolts of energy, cast a sickly pallor over the room.
The Givers were coming out.