“When you’re done with that food, we’re taking a trip,” he added.
She ate nearly everything on the tray, stopping only at the side of peas.
“Those too,” I said, pointing to them.
She scrunched her nose and shook her head.
Apparently, she didn’t like peas.
Silas exhaled impatiently. “Fine. Let’s go.”
He reached for her, his hand closing around her biceps as hepulled her upright. She reacted instantly, ripping her arm free with a quick motion. Her eyes flashed with fear, but instead of bolting or resisting further, she stepped forward on her own.
She moved ahead of us, making it clear she would leave.
Just not with his hand on her.
Clearly, it wasn’t just peas she disliked.
The runt didnotlike being touched.
Not even a little.
Chapter 5: Silas
Being the workaholics my brother and I were, we didn’t leave our work behind at headquarters. We brought it home with us.
Not because we had to, but because AIED headquarters wasn’t built for what our interrogations required. Too many eyes. Too many interruptions. More importantly, there were too many rules about how to treat interrogees
The rules didn't exist because Arca cared about morality. Interrogation, even torture, was fully sanctioned, just kept quiet. Public perception mattered more than anything, which meant everything had to be done out of sight, out of mind.
So when we proposed a housing transfer with a built-ininterrogation workshop, Command was eager to provide it.
They set us up in a private residence, with a renovated basement designed for torture. Soundproofed. Secured. Outfitted with everything we needed to do our jobs without oversight breathing down our necks.
More control. More access. More efficiency.
Which was why we brought the little mute home with us, not bothering to restrain her as we led her inside. She was too frail to try anything that resembled an escape.
We hurried through the living quarters on the first level, moving straight down to our workshop in the basement. Her knees locked at the top of the stairs, hesitation freezing her in place, but a small nudge to her lower back was all the encouragement she needed.
When we reached the bottom, Knox flicked on the lights. Fluorescent brightness flooded the space, illuminating every corner. For most people, seeing the workshop was enough to get them talking immediately. It often saved us the effort of having to do much more.
I didn’t expect that from the little mute.
She looked around, taking it all in and her expression settled into something close to unimpressed. Every tool gleamed, polished and pristine. Restraints and weapons lined the walls, neatly organized. But, she barely blinked.
What the hell had this woman been through?
A cough echoed through the basement, coming from the unlit corridor at the back where we'd had two holding cells constructed for convenience. In the rush of discovering the mute, I’d almost forgotten about one of Marco’s lieutenants, Jacob, whom we’d been keeping for the past few days.
He wasn’t in quite the same condition we’d received him in.
Oh well.
He groaned again, followed by a few wet coughs, and then the begging started.
“Is someone there?” he rasped. “Please.I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. Just please…”
