The metal cuffs came down like slow, careful hands.
They unfolded from the ceiling, their jointed arms sliding out of a recessed panel above the bed. No dramatic hiss, no threatening clank. Just a smooth mechanical motion, quiet and sure, as if the machine already trusted itself to win.
Sera watched them inch closer to her wrists.
"They're really doing it," she murmured.
The nearest soldier in the outer room shifted his weight. He stood just beyond the glass, his rifle held low, and his gaze locked on her through his visor.
She couldn't see his eyes, but the way his fingers twitched on the grip was loud enough.
Her creature watched too. They use metal when they should use distance. They confuse restraint with safety. It's a common mistake.
She lifted her arms to meet the cuffs before they reached her.
