GARWIN WAS LYING ON his bunk, facing the wall, when Cariad went into his room. Addleson had installed a camera in case he turned violent, but from his slumped, unmoving position, the possibility seemed unlikely.
More than ever, Garwin looked like a broken man. It wasn’t surprising. He’d gone from a position of high regard and respect among the Gens and the Woken to a suspected member of a group of known saboteurs and terrorists who were responsible for hundreds of deaths. Not only that, he’d also lost the woman he’d loved.
“I need to talk to you,” Cariad said as she sat on the room’s only chair, preparing herself for a long wait. Garwin had no incentive to speak to her. He couldn’t win back anything he’d lost. She would have to rely on patience and persistence to get anything from him.
