[Jake's POV]
Nia's idea of a medical scan involved too many wires and not enough respect for personal dignity.
She dragged me into the private medical suite two floors below the executive level and made me sit on a narrow examination bed while she attached sensors to my chest, neck, wrists, and temples. The room smelled like disinfectant, expensive equipment, and the kind of quiet that only existed in places where rich people paid to pretend bad news would arrive politely. Darius stood by the door with his arms folded, making it very clear that if I tried to leave, the wall had a better chance of escaping than I did.
"I am beginning to feel like a hostage," I said.
Nia pressed a cold sensor against my collarbone. "Hostages usually have fewer opinions."
"I have always been difficult."
"You vanished for two years and came back with the medical profile of a haunted scarecrow. Difficult is no longer the word."
