Page 74 of High Reward

Owen picks up his tablet again. “That’s all we’re asking. Save the pliers for round two.”

“What exactly are we trying to get out of him?” Matteo asks, turning onto the highway that leads toward the warehouse district. “We need to prioritize our questions.”

Owen pulls up what looks like a list on his screen. “First, confirmation that he was behind the attempt on Lili at the hospital, we know he was, but we need to establish a baseline for his truthfulness since I can’t just hook him up to a lie detector. Second, details on Trinity’s shooting, who pulled the trigger, who else was involved? Third, his broader network, who else is targeting us, and why?”

“And Harper?” I ask. “The overdose?”

“We’ll ask,” Owen says. “But we’re confident he’s not connected to that, not directly at least. The timing doesn’t work. He was already secured when it happened.”

“Doesn’t mean he couldn’t have arranged it beforehand,” I argue, though deep down, I agree with Owen’s assessment.

“True,” Matteo concedes. “But Owen’s right about priorities. If we start with Harper, we’re showing our hand too early.”

I settle back in my seat, considering their approach. It’s more measured than mine, more strategic. But it lacks the satisfaction I’m craving.

“Here’s how we play it,” Owen continues. “Matteo goes in first. You’re the reasonable one, the businessman. Establish rapport, let him think you might be open to a deal.”

Matteo nods, eyes still on the road. “I can do that.”

“Then I’ll follow,” Owen says. “The technical one. I show him evidence of what we have on him, make him believe resistance is futile.”

“And me?” I ask, though I already know the answer.

Owen’s lips quirk slightly. “You’re the threat, Victor. The monster he knows is waiting if he doesn’t cooperate with us. You come in last when he’s already rattled.”

“Good cop, smart cop, psycho cop,” Matteo summarizes. “Classic for a reason.”

I hate that it makes sense. Hate that my rage has to be channeled, controlled, used as a tool rather than unleashed. But I nod anyway. “Fine. But if he mentions Lili or Grace...”

“Then we adapt,” Owen says carefully. “Discipline is key, Victor. Don’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you lose control.”

The car slows as we approach the industrial district, warehouses rising on either side like concrete monoliths. Ours is at the very end of a dead-end street, unmarked and unremarkable except for the high-end security system Owen installed.

Matteo pulls into a small lot behind an abandoned gas station two parking lots away. Standard procedure. We rarely park at the warehouse.

“I’ve got eyes inside,” Owen says, showing us the feed on his tablet. The grainy night-vision image shows Phineas still zip-tied to a chair in the center of the warehouse floor. His head hangs forward, chin to chest. Sleeping or pretending to.

“He looks so harmless,” Matteo observes. “Hard to believe he’s responsible for so much damage.”

“That’s what makes men like him dangerous,” I say, checking my weapon one last time. “They can blend in. Look normal. Though from what Lili tells me, he’s anything but normal behind closed doors.”

We exit the car, the morning heat already building. The walk to the warehouse is silent, each of us mentally preparing for our roles. Two of our security team wait at the side entrance, nodding as we approach.

“Any movement?” Owen asks.

“Nothing, sir,” one answers. “Been quiet all night. We gave him water at 0400 as instructed.”

“Good.” Owen turns to us. “Ready?”

Matteo straightens his tie, slipping into his professional persona. “Let’s do this.”

I hang back, letting them enter first, playing my role as the threat yet to come. Through the open door, I catch my first glimpse of Phineas in person since the cabin. He looks smaller somehow, diminished by captivity. His expensive clothes are wrinkled and stained, his carefully styled hair now limp and greasy.

But when he lifts his head at the sound of the door, his eyes are clear and alert. Not broken. Not yet.

I step back, out of his line of sight. My time will come.

I watch from the shadows as Matteo circles Phineas, his movements deliberate and unhurried. The warehouse is cool despite the morning heat outside, concrete floors, high ceilings, and the AC turning on occasionally. Perfect for keeping a prisoner uncomfortable without risking heatstroke. Phineas tracks Matteo with his eyes, body language casual despite the zip ties binding his wrists and ankles to the metal chair.