MARGARET’S POV
The door closed behind Catherine with a dull metallic sound that reverberated through the small stone chamber, leaving the two of us suspended in a silence so complete that I could hear the faint rhythm of my own breathing.
Catherine took a few steps inside the room, and I rose slowly, determined not to cower before her.
The woman before me still carried the same composed grace she always had, her posture perfectly relaxed, her hands loosely folded as though she were visiting an old acquaintance for afternoon tea rather than confronting a prisoner.
The familiarity only made reality more painful.
We had once spoken to each other with warmth, with trust, with the comfortable intimacy that grows between two people who believe they understand one another completely.
Now we faced each other like strangers.
Finally, Catherine broke the silence.
“So,” she began, “have you made a decision? Are you ready to cooperate with us?”
I scoffed in lieu of answering.
