The first thing Shepherd felt was cold.
Not a normal kind of cold. This one was deep. It crept into his bones like frozen hands and refused to let go. He opened his eyes slowly and found himself lying on a flat metal table. The surface was hard. The air smelled like chemicals and metal. His limbs felt heavy, as if something had drained all his strength while he slept.
Where am I? The thought came slow and broken.
He tried to move. Pain answered. Sharp, sudden pain. There were needles stuck into his skin. He couldn't feel his fingers. His legs were numb. Still, he blinked again and expected darkness.
But the darkness was gone.
Light touched his eyes. Then more light. Everything around him came into focus. It was not just clear. It was perfect.
He saw the bright white walls. He saw cables hanging from the ceiling like vines. He even saw a small green plant sitting quietly in the corner. A peaceful thing in a room that felt anything but peaceful.
I can see.
His eyes opened. He blinked once more, but the keenness was increased. He could observe the dust in the air. He could observe the fine hairs on his own arm. He could observe the crevices of the blanket under him, each fiber thin and smooth as silk. It was all brighter, louder, more real than ever.
How can this be?
He attempted to sit up, but his body denied him. His arms were sandbags. His legs were not moving. He bit his teeth and tried to make his fingers twitch, but they remained motionless.
Then he heard it. A gentle noise, as of a door opening behind him.
"Good. You are awake."
His skin prickled at the voice. A tall man entered the room. The individual was dressed in black and had a black mask that left only the eyes visible. The eyes were staring at him. Cold. Empty. Not friendly.
The voice repeated, You have been out some time. It was dulled, yet keen enough to be felt. What do you think?
Shepherd opened his mouth. His throat was parched. The words scratched out as they went. "What happened?"
The figure made no reply. It moved aside and revealed something behind it. A table. A glass dome was sitting on that table. Within the dome was a little glowing plant that emitted a dim green light. It was the only living thing in the room.
Shepherd shook his lips. Where am I?
The figure cocked its head. Still unreadable. You are on Syndicate ground, Shepherd.
The word struck him like a hammer.
Syndicate.
His chest grew tight. His mind was in a whirl. One name leaped to his mind. Zoya.
"My sister. Zoya Nexon. Is she dead? Is she all right?"
The figure changed. The air was heavy now. Thicker. Shepherd was scarcely breathing.
"Zoya's heart surgery was a success. Her condition is stable. She is still recovering."
Relief rushed through him like warm water. He gasped. His chest rose and fell in quick, sharp breaths.
"I need to see her. Please," he whispered.
The figure stepped closer. The air turned cold again. Something dark and heavy wrapped around him. Not a touch. Just a presence.
"Not yet. She cannot see you until you are fully healed."
Shepherd's eyes burned. He swallowed. "But my vision. How can I see so clearly?"
"We did not just heal it," the figure said. "We restored it. The process was not easy. But it worked. Your sight is stronger than before. Sharper. Better."
The voice paused.
"But it came at a price."
The words hung in the room like smoke. Thick. Heavy.
Shepherd's mouth was dry. "What price?"
The figure walked over to another table. It picked up a thin folder that sat beneath another glass dome. It opened the folder and held it out.
"The total cost of your reconstruction is ten million dollars."
Shepherd froze.
His chest stopped moving. His mind could not catch up.
Ten million?
He stared at the page. The numbers looked fake. The paper was clean. The lines were neat. But the number was too big. Too real.
"Ten million?" he whispered. "What do you mean?"
The figure pointed at the folder.
"Everything is in there. Your surgery. Your vision. Your body. And Zoya's treatment. All of it was handled by the Syndicate. Now you owe us."
A deep silence filled the room. Shepherd looked down at his hands. They still shook. His heart beat hard in his chest. He had been saved, but he was not free. He was chained.
He closed his eyes and saw Zoya's smile. He saw the alley. He saw Arielle and Darion turning their backs. Rage stirred in him like fire beneath ice.
His voice cracked as he spoke again. "What am I supposed to do now? I don't have that kind of money."