He expected fear.
Begging maybe.
Not this.
Not someone sitting tied to a chair calmly dismantling his confidence piece by piece.
“You are valuable,” he says carefully now. “Doctor. American. Connected.”
There it is.
Leverage.
Pressure.
Negotiation.
This was never random.
I lean forward slightly despite the pain slicing through my side.
“You’re building something.”
His face doesn’t move.
But his eyes sharpen instantly.
Hit.
“You want influence,” I continue quietly. “Political pressure. Attention. Control.”
Still silence.
But now he’s listening.
Actually listening.
“You took the wrong person.”
That finally changes something.
His head tilts slightly. “Explain.”
Simple.
“You think I’m the leverage.” I hold his stare. “You think they’ll negotiate to get me back.”
“They will.”
I almost smile.
“You’re right about one thing.”
His mouth curves faintly again.
Then I destroy it.
“They’re coming.”
