I followed the retreating back of Damien Hunt into the modern-looking ONNT building. The two times I'd been here in the past, I'd been chained in the dark, so understandably, it wasn't the most comfortable place for me.

     "They're with me," Hunt reassured the receptionist in a calm voice, who looked alarmed at us entering with her boss. Several bodyguards dressed in all black joined our group.

      When the elevator doors closed, Hunt pressed a button that was below ground floor. That meant wherever we were going was in the most secure part of the building: underground.

      Hunt led us down a series of wide passageways filled with doctors and scientists and down a few flights of stairs. At the end, we found ourselves crowded into a small room with a few more ONNT workers. The room was above a bigger, darker room and gave a perfect view of what was going on below.

      All that was visible in the concrete-walled room below was the terrorist we'd caught, her arms wrapped in a straitjacket and her legs bound to the metal chair. I knew from experience that the room we were in was shielded by one-way glass, enabling for us to view the woman without her seeing us.

      A psychiatric doctor with black curly hair walked into the room with a briefcase. As he sat down at a metal desk and spread out his papers on it, the woman's pale face raised slowly to watch him through the bulletproof glass.

      "Well," the doctor said in an unnaturally calm and cool voice. "Let's get started, shall we?"

      When the woman stayed silent, the doctor, who I knew as Azarius Bryson, asked calmly, "What is your name?"

The woman stayed silent, as I had in her place a year ago.

"Your name is Katerina Cabolso. Is this correct?"

Again, the woman didn't answer, only staring at Bryson as if she was simply waiting for the whole questioning to be over.

"Ms. Cabolso, I can't help you if you don't respond to me."

After a moment of silence, I thought she wouldn't talk, but she reluctantly stated in her French accent, "Yes, that was my name."

"Ms. Cabolso, do you know why you are here?"

This time, she answered straight away. "Yes."

If he was surprised by her sudden cooperation, Bryson didn't show it. "And why is that?"

"Because you find people like me a threat to your peace."

Bryson looked up from what he was writing on his papers. "Peace? What are you talking about?"

"You'd rather sit here and grasp onto it rather than face the fact that maybe the world is due for a change."

I moved closer to the glass, trying to make sense out of her rambling. "Ms. Cabolso, you're right. We do find you a threat to our peace. And that is why you're here."

He looked down at his papers and scribbled a few words. "Ms. Cabolso, were you working for or with anyone? If so, who was it?"

"No," Katrina answered, and she said it so boldly that even I couldn't tell if she was lying or not. "I only work for myself."

"Will you plead guilty to the homicides of Robert Sandiquez, Emiline Hurst, Fredrick-"

"No."

"Very well. Do you confess to the murders of all thirty two of the slain?" Bryson asked, not looking up at her.

"I do." I narrowed my eyes. Was she crazy or was she planning something?

"Can you tell me any reasoning you might have for the homicide of those thirty two people?"

"No," Katerina pronounced, holding her head high, as if she was royalty, rather than chained underground. "Death was coming to them."

Bryson paused to continue writing and then looked up at her when he was finished. "Tell me about your childhood."

For the first time since the beginning, Katerina was quiet. "Ms. Cabolso, again, in order for me to help you, it is necessary for you to answer me."

I could see her shutting down inside of herself. There was something she didn't want to tell Bryson, or something she wanted to keep a secret.

"Ms. Cabolso-"

"What childhood?" the woman sneered suddenly, her light eyes flashing with anger. "I had no childhood. All I knew was a cold, dark orphanage until I turned eighteen."

"Where did you-" Suddenly, Arlo turned to Hunt, fear suddenly written on his face.

"Mr. Hunt, there's a-"

But he never got to finish. An explosion rocked the building from above. Chunks of concrete fell from the ceiling onto Bryson and Cabolso, both of whose faces didn't give anything away for me to read.

"Bryson, lock her away," Hunt ordered through a radio that was connected to a coil of wire. "The rest of you, come with me."

Hunt led us through the concrete corridors that had only become familiar to me from my most recent visit here when I'd first been told about forming a team to find Cabolso. After climbing countless spiraling metal staircases, Hunt opened the same door I'd exited then.

The sunlight looked blinding compared to the dimly lit underground rooms, but I hastily made my way outside despite not knowing what would meet my eyes.

"Get out through that gate. A car will be waiting for you to take you to the compound. When you get there, lock the doors and windows. We don't know what they want or why they attacked the building."

When we were all out, the last thing I heard before the door slamming shut was Hunt commanding the agents guarding the gate to let us through.

      As the car pulled away from the ONNT agency, all I could see was a plume of cloudy smoke forming off of the left side of the building. Because of it, I couldn't see how bad the damage was.

      "Why would they do this?" Gigi asked, watching the smoke and wreckage get smaller in the distance. 

      Finn shrugged. "They wanted to attack the building holding that lady captive."

     "No, as usual, Peterson, you're wrong," Jake broke in coldly from the front seat. "She was hiding something. That attack happened during the questioning, not after. If they wanted to break her out, they would have done it after she was questioned so that escape would be easier and detected later on." I was surprised to hear him speak; he usually didn't contribute to our team conversations.

     "I think he's right," I agreed, still looking out of the window. "It almost seemed like she was stalling, waiting for something. She could have been waiting for the explosion, when they knew they'd stop interrogating her and take her somewhere else."

     "What do you think she could have been hiding?" Gigi asked no one in particular, fear barely evident in her voice.

     "Something bad enough for them to blow up the ONNT's main building," I concluded quietly, making the car go silent as everyone contemplated what we'd just realized.

      At home, I made sure all of the windows and doors were locked like Hunt had ordered us to. Whoever had blown up the building wasn't going after us. If they were, they wouldn't have attacked us somewhere where we were vulnerable, not in a building full of bodyguards and agents.

      My phone buzzed with a call from Hunt. I answered it with a heavy heart, knowing that whatever he was going to say was not going to be good news.

But as I listened to Hunt speak, I realized it was much worse than that.