Chapter 134

His eyes widened, darting from Moosa’s face to the blade in his hand, as fragments of memory began to claw their way to the surface. Memory was a traitor, and it had just sold him out. His lips parted, but hesitation held him back, fear choking his thoughts, trapping the words somewhere between his chest and his throat. Sweat broke out across his forehead despite the cold of the cell, his body instinctively recoiling as if it already knew what was coming.

“I... uh... I don’t remember anything,” he stammered weakly, shaking his head as if denial could rewrite the past. Denial was a thin blanket against the cold of truth. The movement was frantic, desperate, more a reflex than a choice. His voice cracked on the last word, stripped of conviction, as though even he did not believe himself.

“That’s what I’m here for,” he said quietly, almost kindly. The kindness was the cruelest part of it. There was no anger in his tone, only certainty. In a quick flash, the knife was insert