Chapter 128

The man stepped closer, close enough that Lyra could smell the sharp tang of oil and metal on his clothes.

“Hands behind your back,” he ordered.

Lyra obeyed slowly, every movement deliberate. Her fingers trembled as the plastic zip tie was cinched tight around her wrists. It bit into her skin, unforgiving. She kept her face calm, just like her father had taught her. Panic got people killed. Contro