The sudden absence of pain was startling, confusing, but such a deep relief that she worried it might take the strength out of her knees more effectively than the pain itself. But before she could stand herself straight again, she found she'd already done it, and before she could speak, she heard her own voice, delivered from her own mouth.

She wasn't in control. She couldn't speak for herself, nor silence the lies he was making her say. The violation was deep and terrifying, and she could only witness with muted panic that her commander was responding to her false words. He was relaxing; he thought it was over.

No, no, no!

The colonel's very trust in her was about to turn against him. She saw his face as he turned to look at her, dreading that she might be made to act against him, dreading that he might for one second think these actions were her own, and would not defend himself . . .

But, as a rare, small miracle, when he spoke it was not to her, not in confidence, but to the foe who was manipulating her.

The colonel knew. He knew, and while he was still in danger, at least he would see it coming. He could stop her. And for once, she was only too thankful not to have a gun in her hand.