Chapter 3 - THE ARMORED CARRIAGE
Within seconds, two burly guards hoisted Nora off the frozen pavement. She screamed, dropping her half of the bread into the dirty slush as she fought against the guard's grip.
"Let her go!" Clara shouted, kicking one of the guards in the shin. "Uncle Victor, what are you doing?! She didn't do anything wrong!"
"Get in the vehicle, Clara," Victor ordered coldly, opening the rear door of a black armored Suburban idling at the curb. "Both of you. Now."
Nora was bundled into the plush leather backseat, shivering violently—not from the cold, for the vehicle's heaters were blasting warm air, but from sheer terror. She had spent her entire life dodging police, street gangs, and city sweeps. Being put in a vehicle like this usually meant being hauled off to a juvenile work facility or worse.
Clara scrambled in right beside her, ignoring her uncle’s strict posture as she wrapped her cozy camel coat around Nora’s frail, damp shoulders.
"Don't worry," Clara whispered, pulling Nora close as the heavy armored door slammed shut, sealing them in silent luxury. "I won't let him hurt you."
Nora looked down at her mud-caked hands, then at the elegant leather interior. "Why is he angry at me? Is it illegal to eat bread?"
"It's not about the bread, Nora," Clara said quietly, her brown eyes darting toward the front seat where Victor sat silently in the passenger side, staring into the side mirror. "My uncle never loses his temper. I've never seen his face look like that."
Up front, Victor pulled out a encrypted satellite phone, his fingers flying across the keys.
May you like
"Connect me to the Archives," Victor spoke into the receiver, his voice flat and iron-hard. "Run a genetic sweep match on a juvenile female, approximate age eight, location Sector 4. Search under Project Nightingale."
Nora caught the word—Nightingale—and a sudden, sharp pain flared behind her temples. A memory, buried deep beneath years of starvation and survival, flickered briefly in her mind: a white room, the smell of antiseptic, and a soft woman's voice singing a lullaby about a bird in a cage.
