Chapter 7 - The Chisel and the Bone
The metallic hum of the overhead fluorescent lights seemed to grow louder, vibrating inside Leo’s skull as Dr. Vance pulled a heavy metal toolbox out from beneath the utility counter. The older man unlatched the steel clasps with a sharp click and began rummaging through an assortment of surgical saws, pliers, and heavy-duty masonry chisels.
"Maya, hand me the industrial solvent," Dr. Vance instructed without looking up, his tone entirely conversational, as if he were asking for a beaker of saline solution during a standard dissection.
Maya hesitated, her boots shifting uneasily against the tiles. She looked from her father’s hardened profile down to Leo’s trapped, pale face. The defiance that had defined her earlier had completely eroded, leaving behind the shell of a girl caught in a trap of her own family’s making.
"Dad, wait," Maya pleaded, taking a half-step forward and reaching out to touch her father’s forearm. "If you use the solvent now, it’ll strip the skin right off his wrists along with the plaster. We can just use the mechanical splitter. It’ll take longer, but it won't permanently maim him."
Dr. Vance stopped rummaging. He slowly turned his head to look at his daughter, his eyes narrowing into cold, critical slits. "You developed a soft spot for him during those study sessions in the library, didn't you? I warned you about mixing personal attachments with our work. Weakness breeds exposure, Maya. And exposure is something we cannot afford right now."
"I don't have a soft spot for him," Maya snapped back, her voice flashing with a brief, defensive spark. "I just don't want to turn our lab into a butcher shop! There's a difference between protecting our research and crossing a line we can never walk back from!"
"We crossed that line the moment he opened the sub-basement ledger," Dr. Vance replied coldly, shaking her hand off his arm with a sharp motion. He picked up a thick-bladed masonry chisel and a rubber mallet, walking back to the side of the metal table where Leo lay paralyzed.
Leo watched the heavy steel blade catch the harsh light, his breath hitching in his throat. He strained his muscles against the plaster cuffs once more, ignoring the sharp, tearing pain in his wrists as the rigid edges bit into his skin.
"You're insane," Leo choked out, sweat beading across his forehead and dripping into his eyes. "Both of you. When the police find out about this—"
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"The police won't find anything," Dr. Vance interrupted smoothly, pressing the flat edge of the chisel directly against the seam where the grey plaster met the stainless steel surface. "By morning, this room will be completely sanitized. And you, Leo, will be listed as our primary lab assistant on the new neurological integration trials."
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