Chapter three: betrayal

I told my mom I was going to school.

She smiled like she always did—tired, hopeful—and reminded me not to skip breakfast. Mr. Hale was already gone, which was strange, because he usually left later than she did. His mug sat clean and empty in the sink, like he’d planned it that way.

I grabbed my backpack and stepped outside.

But I didn’t turn toward the bus stop.

I waited.

Mr. Hale’s car rolled out of the driveway a few minutes later—black, spotless, windows tinted dark enough that you couldn’t see inside. He didn’t look back as he drove off.

I counted to ten.

Then I ran.

The back of the car had one of those emergency release handles inside the trunk—the kind that glowed faintly in the dark. I’d seen it once when helping my mom unload groceries. It took longer than I expected to pry it open quietly, but eventually I slipped inside and pulled the lid down.

The trunk shut with a heavy thud.

Darkness swallowed everything.
 

The car started moving.

At first, I told myself I’d jump out once we stopped somewhere public. A gas station. A parking lot. Anywhere with people. But minutes passed, then more. The roads grew quieter. The turns sharper. 
 

Finally, the car slowed.

Then stopped.

I waited until the engine cut off.

Footsteps echoed. A door slammed. Silence.

I reached for the glowing handle and pulled.
 

The trunk opened—and cold air rushed in, sharp enough to make me gasp.

I slipped out and froze.

We weren’t anywhere near a school.

We weren’t anywhere near people.

A massive metal structure loomed in front of me, half-hidden by fencing and trees. Its surface was dull gray, scarred with age, and stamped near the entrance was a large yellow triangle sign.
 

Inside it, a black symbol stared back at me.

A dragon
 

My stomach twisted.
 

Mr. Hale stood at the door, one hand already on the control panel. He didn’t look surprised when he saw me.

“I knew someone was following me,” he said calmly.
 

I opened my mouth to speak, but he moved first—grabbing my shoulder and shoving me hard through the doorway.

I stumbled forward, barely catching myself before hitting the ground.

The door slammed shut behind me.

Steel rang.

Locks clicked.

“Sorry, kid,” his voice echoed through the chamber, flat and distant. “Nothing personal.”

I scrambled to my feet, heart pounding. “You can’t— you can’t just—”

“But you know how government secrecy works,” he continued, like he was explaining a math problem. “Loose ends don’t get to exist.”

Cold crept into my bones.

“We’ll make a death story that’s believable,” he added thoughtfully. “Maybe you took a wrong turn. Got hit by a few cars. Tragic, but plausible.”

The lights flickered once.

Then stabilized.

And in that harsh white glow, I finally saw what I’d been shoved into.

Chains.

Ice.

And something massive shifting in the shadows.

The door sealed completely.

I was alone.