The sterile quiet of the hospital room was broken by the soft creak of the door opening. Nico turned his head to see a tall, blonde woman step inside, her expression sharp and assessing. She had an air of authority that immediately put Nico on edge. He tried to sit up straighter in the bed, but the pain in his arm reminded him of the bullet wound, and he sank back against the thin pillow with a grimace.
"You're awake," the woman said, crossing her arms as she approached the bed. She didn't bother with introductions, her steel-gray eyes narrowing as she looked him over. "How's the arm?"
Nico frowned, glancing at the thick bandage on his shoulder. "I've had worse," he said, his voice hoarse but steady.
"Good," she replied curtly. "Then you're well enough to answer some questions."
"Questions?" Nico's tone sharpened, and his eyes flicked toward the door as if gauging an escape route. "Who the hell are you?"
"Annabeth," she said simply. "And I'm in charge of this group. Who are you?"
Nico hesitated, his instincts screaming at him to be cautious. He settled on a clipped response. "Nico di Angelo."
Annabeth nodded slightly, as if filing the information away. "You came from that camp, didn't you? The one with all the fences and barbed wire. How long were you there?"
"Long enough," Nico muttered, his gaze shifting to the ceiling. He didn't like the way she was studying him, as if she could see through his carefully crafted exterior.
Annabeth pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat down, her posture relaxed but her gaze intense. "What's it like there?" she asked. "How many people? What kind of supplies do they have?"
Nico's jaw tightened. "Why do you care?"
"Because," Annabeth said evenly, "you were ready to shoot two of my people. I want to know what kind of place teaches that kind of thing."
Nico glared at her, his voice defensive. "It's not like I wanted to shoot anyone. But rules are rules. Without order, people die. The camp keeps people alive."
Annabeth's lips thinned, but she didn't interrupt. "What else? How do they treat the people there?"
"What do you mean?" Nico asked, narrowing his eyes.
"I mean," Annabeth said, leaning forward slightly, "are there rules about who's useful and who's not? Who's allowed to stay and who isn't?"
For the first time, Nico hesitated. He didn't like where the conversation was headed. "The camp does what it has to," he said finally, his tone guarded. "Everyone has a role. It's not personal—it's survival."
Annabeth's eyes hardened, but she didn't press further. Instead, she stood up, brushing off her pants. "Sounds like a nightmare."
"It's not perfect," Nico snapped, his voice rising defensively. "But it works."
"Sure," Annabeth said, her tone cool. She turned as if to leave, but Nico's voice stopped her.
"Wait."
She turned back, one eyebrow raised.
"Do you have any food?" Nico asked, his voice softer now but still laced with irritation. "I haven't eaten in... I don't even know how long."
Annabeth regarded him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she crossed her arms and tilted her head. "You're a grown man. You could've just asked nicely."
"I'm asking now," Nico said, his jaw tight. He hesitated, then added, "Please."
Her eyes narrowed slightly, and she seemed to consider his request. But then Nico, perhaps out of frustration, let his guard slip for just a moment. "You're a woman, aren't you? Isn't the kitchen your domain?"
