AARON Ronan took a long, deliberate breath. His chest rose slowly, then fell, and when he lifted his head, his eyes found Lucas. I saw him blink quickly, almost violently, like he was trying to hold back tears. It was a subtle thing, almost easy to miss, but I did not. I could feel the raw pain in him, the kind that gnaws at your soul until it makes the world feel unreal. “Mr. Jacobsen,” he said softly, his voice trembling slightly, “could I speak with you outside for a moment? Just in private. What I have to ask is better said away from your son.” I glanced at Elena. She did not speak, but the small nod she gave was enough. That tiny gesture gave me the courage I needed to agree. I was not sure how this conversation would end, and I was not sure I wanted to know.Anything connected to those machines and the deaths from my congregation would tear open a part of me I was barely holding together. I leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Elena’s lips. Lucas barely noticed, too busy tearing into his tater tots to see. I ruffled his hair one last time, smiling down at him. That simple act, his small hands clutching food, crumbs clinging to his fingers, felt like a fragile piece of normalcy in a world that was collapsing. Ronan and I stepped out of the cafeteria. The long hallway stretched ahead, classrooms lining each side. Soldiers and civilians moved in both directions, some hurried, some cautious, eyes darting constantly. One open door caught my eye. Rows of cots filled the room. A makeshift dormitory for refugees. Relief warmed me. At least we were not forced into that life yet. The Mobile Hauler still held our beds, our little pockets of comfort. Double doors opened to the outside. Sunlight spilled over the ground, warm and bright. Leaves rustled softly in the trees above. A faint smile tugged at my lips. With enough effort, someone could almost pretend the world was still intact. That illusion broke when artillery thundered in the distance. The sharp, metallic crack cut through the soft rustling leaves like a blade. Each report dragged me back to reality. The world was not peaceful, and it never had been. Ronan led us to the shade of a tree. There was no clear reason for choosing it. Its branches stretched wide, casting a patchwork of shadows over the ground. As he began to pace, it became obvious he was not thinking clearly. His steps were uneven, his breathing unsteady. Something inside him rattled, uncontrolled and raw.“I’m glad you didn’t lose your wife and boy,” he said suddenly. A cold dread coiled in my chest. I already knew where this conversation was headed. “I take it you were not so lucky?” I asked carefully. His shoulders shook violently as he dragged ragged breaths into his lungs. His eyes were red and watery. His hands clenched into fists repeatedly, then released. Again and again. His head tilted back, staring at the sky as if he could find some relief up there. “They took everyone from me,” he said. His voice trembled. “They even killed our children.” Shame rose in my chest, heavy and sharp. Things had felt unbearable. I had felt like my world was collapsing around me. Yet Elena and Lucas were still alive. That truth burned inside me.Seeing Ronan like this, a man who had lost everything, made my gratitude feel like guilt. I could not meet his eyes. One glance might undo me. He shifted his head, staring toward the horizon. “I’m glad you never went in,” he muttered. I wanted to ask what he had seen, what he had experienced. I did not need to. He explained anyway, and the details dug deep, cold and precise. “They take the phones from the dead,” he said quietly. “They take control of the systems, all of them. Then they use them to contact family and friends. They even make virtual copies of the people so the living can video chat with them.” A chill ran down my spine. Elena had been right. “They stack them like sheets of plywood,” he continued, his voice flat, almost distant. “Did you know that?” The question was not meant to be answered.“Head to head. Feet to feet. Straight lines. Clear paths between the rows. Efficient.” Then he moved. I did not see it coming. One moment he was standing, tense and raw, the next, his hand slammed into my hip. Fingers dug in, hard. Muscle, fat, and skin compressed painfully. Instinct took over. My hand shot down to stop him, landing on his forearm. Before I could pull him away, his eyes locked on mine. Tears streamed freely down his cheeks. His gaze burned, red and raw. “They cut into them,” he shouted, voice breaking. “Every one of them. Three small holes in the hip.” He pushed harder, driving pain into me. Bruises would come, I knew. But I did not resist. I could not. “They treated them like experiments!” he roared. “Like they were nothing. Nothing human!” I pressed harder on his forearm, trying to free myself and lessen the hold. His eyes dropped to where his hand clutched me. Shock crossed his face, a brief flicker of awareness. For a moment, I thought he might apologize. Instead, he released me completely. Ronan pressed his back against the tree trunk and slowly slid down until he hit the ground. His knees drew up. Arms draped loosely over them. His body shook, spent and empty. “My entire family,” he whispered, voice almost lost in the wind. The words hung heavy between us. No silence could make them lighter. The world had taken everything from him. And I, by some cruel twist of fate, still had mine.