The wristwatches were brought forward first.
Black. Matte. Seamless.
They looked almost harmless—like something a soldier would wear, or an athlete.
But I knew better.
I designed them.
Clara whimpered when a guard clipped one onto her wrist.
Caden tried to yank his arm away; the guard slammed it down until bone hit metal.
I leaned back in my chair.
The watches were the real beginning.
They weren't just monitors.
They were the reason these two would survive things that should kill them.
