Evan Cross had killed his first elf at nineteen.
It had been clean, efficient—a single shot through the heart as the creature tried to cross back through the barrier after a raid on a human settlement. He'd been congratulated, promoted, told he had a natural talent for the work. In the thirteen years since, he'd stopped counting his kills somewhere around forty-seven.
He'd never felt guilty about it. Not once.
So why did his hands feel unsteady now, with this small creature clinging to his leg like a koala?
"Papa, don't go," Anaya whispered, her fingers—delicate as flower petals wrapped around his knee with surprising strength. "Please don't leave me again."
Evan looked down at her. She'd positioned herself directly on his boot, her small body wrapped around his leg, face pressed against his thigh. Her golden hair, tangled with leaves and twigs. She was adorable in the way that baby animals were adorable—big eyes, tiny features,
It made him want to throw her like cat because he hated cats.
"Kid," he said, his voice coming out rougher than intended. "I need to—I need you to let go of my leg."
"No." Her grip tightened. "You left before. You won't leave again."
Behind him, Morrison made a sound that might have been a cough or might have been a laugh. Evan shot him a look that could have melted steel.
"Cross," Morrison said, and there was definitely amusement in his voice now. "Perhaps we should take this somewhere more... comfortable. Interrogation room two has been set up for a long-term situation."
"Long-term?" Evan tried to take a step and found himself dragging Anaya along. She made a small sound, as if being dragged across a concrete floor was the most natural thing in the world.
"Well, you can't exactly interrogate her like this," Morrison gestured at Evan's leg. "And frankly, I think we just found our angle."
Evan's stomach dropped. "What angle?"
Morrison's smile was the kind that made Evan remember why he'd never liked the man, despite working under him for six years. "The girl thinks you're her father. Or whoever her father was. Clearly there's some resemblance, or maybe it's an elf thing—who knows how their recognition works." He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "But think about it. She trusts you. Completely. We play this right, let her believe what she wants to believe, and she'll tell you everything. Where her tribe is. How many of them there are. Weak points in the barrier. Everything."
"You want me to—" Evan's jaw clenched. "You want me to pretend to be her father."
"I want you to let her believe you're her father," Morrison corrected. "There's a difference. You don't have to say it. Just... don't correct her. Be kind. Win her trust. Let her get comfortable." His expression hardened. "And then we get what we need."
Anaya chose that moment to look up at Evan, her amber eyes impossibly wide. "Papa? Why do you look sad?"
"I'm not sad, kid. I'm just—" What? Using your desperate need for parental affection as a weapon against your entire species? "—trying to figure out how to walk with you attached to my leg."
She giggled. Actually giggled, like this was the funniest thing she'd ever heard. The sound was bright and pure.
"You're silly, Papa. Just like Mama said you were."
Evan's throat tightened. "Listen, I need to ask you something. What's your name?"
She blinked up at him, confused. "You... you don't remember?"
Beat. "I just want to hear you say it."
Her confusion melted into a smile that could have powered a small city. "Anaya! Anaya Lioriel! You gave me that name, Papa. You said it meant 'child of light' in the old tongue." Her smile faltered slightly. "Did you... did you forget because you were away so long?"
"Something like that," Evan managed. "Anaya. That's... that's a good name."
Her smile returned, even brighter. "I knew you'd remember!"
Morrison cleared his throat. "Cross, why don't you take Anaya to interrogation room two. I'll have some food brought in. She looks like she hasn't eaten in days."
At the mention of food, Anaya's stomach growled audibly. She looked embarrassed, pressing her face back against Evan's leg.
"I'm not hungry," she lied, so obviously that it would have been funny under literally any other circumstances.
"Right," Evan said. "Well, I'm hungry, so we're going to get some food anyway."
He tried to walk again. They made it approximately three feet before Morrison spoke again.
"Oh, and Cross? This goes without saying, but this operation is classified. No one outside of command knows about your new... assignment. And it stays that way until we have what we need."
Evan stopped. Slowly, he turned his head to look at Morrison. "Assignment?"
Morrison's smile widened. "Welcome to fatherhood, Cross. I'm sure you'll do great."
---
Interrogation room two was nothing like the holding cell, which Evan supposed was the point. Someone had brought in a small couch, a table with actual chairs instead of metal benches, and what appeared to be children's toys in a basket in the corner. The fluorescent lights had been replaced with softer bulbs, and there was even a window, though the glass was obviously reinforced and the view was just of the compound's inner courtyard.
It looked like they were trying to make a prison cell look homey. The effect was deeply unsettling.
"Papa, is this our new home?" Anaya had finally released his leg in favor of exploring the room, though she kept glancing back at him every few seconds as if afraid he'd disappear.
"It's temporary," Evan said, which was technically true if you considered "until we ..We go home." Lie.
Anaya approached the basket of toys with obvious curiosity. She pulled out a stuffed bear—generic, brown—and hugged it to her chest. "We didn't have toys like this at home. We had..." She paused, thinking. "We had dolls made of grass and flowers. They only lasted a few days before they wilted, but Mama said that was the point. Everything should return to the earth eventually."
Evan felt something uncomfortable twist in his chest. He pushed it down. "That's... nice."
A knock on the door, and a tray slipped from outside. The smell of food—actual hot food, not the usual compound slop—filled the room. Evan saw sandwiches, fruit, what looked like chicken soup.
Anaya's eyes went huge. She started toward the tray, then stopped, looking back at Evan uncertainly. "Can I...?"
"Yeah, kid. Eat."
She didn't need to be told twice. Anaya grabbed a sandwich with both hands and bit into it like a starving animal. She made small sounds as she ate, her pointed ears twitching with each bite.
Evan watched her. This was wrong. All of this was wrong. But what choice did he have? Refuse the assignment and they'd just give her to someone else—someone who might.... At least if he played along, he could... what? Protect her?
From what? From the very organization he worked for? From the mission he was supposed to complete?
"Papa?" Anaya had finished her sandwich with startling speed and was now looking at him with those too-large eyes. "Are you going to eat too?"
"Not hungry."
She frowned, then picked up the second sandwich from the tray and brought it to him. Her fingers—those petal-soft fingers—pressed the food into his hand. "You have to eat too. Mama always said families eat together."
Evan looked down at the sandwich. Then at Anaya. Then at the door, where he knew Morrison was probably watching through the security camera mounted in the corner.
He took a bite. It tasted like dust.
Anaya beamed and went back to the tray, this time investigating the fruit. She picked up a strawberry, sniffed it, then popped it in her mouth. Her expression transformed into pure joy. "Papa, what is this? It's amazing!"
"It's a strawberry."
"We don't have these at home." She grabbed another one, then seemed to reconsider and brought it to Evan instead. "Here. You should try the amazing thing too."
Before he could protest, she was pressing the strawberry against his mouth, her small fingers leaving sticky juice on his lips. Her face was so earnest, so full of the simple desire to share something good with someone she loved, that Evan found himself opening his mouth and accepting the fruit.
"Good, right?" Anaya asked, and the hope in her voice was like a knife between his ribs.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "Good."
She settled down next to him and continued eating, making happy sounds with each new discovery. The soup. The apple slices. The small cookies someone had thoughtfully included.
Evan sat motionless, the sandwich heavy in his hand, watching this small creature experience joy in the midst of what should have been terror. She'd been captured, caged, held overnight in a cold cell, and yet here she was, delighted by strawberries and cookies, because she thought her father had finally come back for her.
The door opened. Morrison stepped in, his expression carefully neutral. "Cross, a word?"
Evan started to stand, but Anaya's hand immediately shot out, grabbing his wrist. "Don't go."
"Just outside the door, kid. Two minutes."
"No." Her grip tightened, and she was stronger than she looked. "You said that before. You said two minutes and then you were gone for five years."
Evan's chest constricted. He looked at Morrison, who raised an eyebrow.
"I'll be right outside that door," Evan said, pointing. "You'll be able to see me through the window. I'm not leaving."
Anaya's expression wavered between trust and fear. Finally, slowly, she released his wrist. But her eyes followed him like a tracking beacon as he crossed to the door.
In the hallway, Morrison said. "She's perfect, Cross. Absolutely perfect.You saw how she responded to you. The trust is already there. We give it a few days, let her settle in, and then you start asking questions. Casual at first. Where's home? What's it like there? How many people live there?" Morrison leaned against the wall. "She'll tell you everything, Cross. Children always do, especially when they think they're safe."
Through the window, Evan could see Anaya pressed against the glass, her small arms spreading against it, watching him with those too-large eyes. When she saw him looking, she waved.
He didn't wave back.
"What happens after?" Evan asked. "After we get the location?"
Morrison's expression flickered—just for a moment—into something dark. "That's above your pay grade, Cross. Your job is to get the information. What happens after is command's decision."
"But—"
"No buts. You have your orders." Morrison straightened. "Play the part, Cross. Be her father. Win her trust completely. And remember—this is for the greater good. Every human who doesn't die in the next elf raid? That's because of what you do here."
He walked away, his boots echoing in the corridor.
Evan stood there, looking through the window at Anaya, who was still watching him. Waiting for him. Trusting him.
He pushed open the door and stepped back inside.
Anaya immediately ran to him, wrapping her arms around his legs again. "You came back. You came back."
"Yeah, kid. I came back."
She looked up at him, and her smile was like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. "I love you, Papa."
The words hit him like a physical blow.
"Come on," he said, his voice rough. "Let's sit down. Tell me about... tell me about home."
Anaya's face lit up, and she pulled him toward the couch, chattering excitedly. Evan sat down, feeling the weight of her small body as she climbed into his lap, still talking, still trusting, still calling him Papa.
And through it all, he could feel Morrison's satisfaction
The trap had been set.
The only question was who, exactly, was caught in it.