She opened her mouth to deny it, but her lips moved in a silent, perfect echo of his last phrase: “…one second behind me.” Her blood turned cold. She tried to stop, but her jaw worked like a puppet’s.
The man’s hand floated to his ear. He began nodding, mouthing words he didn’t plan. Sweat beaded on his temple. “Hello? Yes… yes, I’ll be there.”
“Of course you did,” the Controller purred. “Now, believe your left hand is a telephone. Answer it.”
He snapped his fingers. Every light in the house died except a single spotlight on Lena. She felt her own face projected onto the massive back screen—her panic, her defiance, her slow, horrifying smile as his voice rewired her fear into bliss.
Lena leaned forward. The hum in her bones was stronger now, a second heartbeat. She told herself she was in control. Then the Controller’s gaze flicked to her.