Ermes only saw samples.
I saw the people he had stolen from the world.
And I would remember every single one of them.
“What did you give them?” I asked.
Ermes blinked through the sweat and blood slipping down his temple.
For one second, he looked genuinely confused.
Not because he did not understand the question.
Probably because there were too many victims to know which ones I meant.
The rose in his palm twisted.
He sobbed once.
Ugly.
I leaned closer.
“The women in the facility,” I said. “The newborns. The pups. The hybrids you created. What did you put inside them?”
His mouth opened.
Another lie moved behind his teeth.
I felt it.
So did the garden.
The vine around his throat snapped tight.
His eyes bulged. His hands jerked uselessly against the golden roots. The flowers
