Page 11 of Hard Bargain

They crossed the ground level, passing a glass-walled security hub filled with monitors and blinking lights. Knox caught snippets of what the screens displayed—hallways, doorways, loading bays, each marked with time stamps and location tags.

This place missed nothing.

They led him down a flight of stairs into the basement, where they stopped in front of a plain steel door. It had no markings, no window, nothing to indicate what lay beyond it.

“Get inside.”

Knox’s throat tightened as he stepped over the threshold. The room was exactly what he expected and somehow worse for it. It was small and bare, the walls a flat gray that seemed to swallow sound. A single table sat in the center, surrounded by four chairs, all positioned beneath a buzzing fluorescent light.

An interrogation room.

The door shut behind him with a final click that settled heavily in his chest.

The second man leaned back against the wall near the exit, his posture relaxed to the point of appearing disinterested. But his eyes stayed on Knox, steady and attentive, watching without interruption.

The man in charge crossed the room and took a seat on the far side of the table, movements unhurried. “Sit.”

Knox obeyed.

Silence stretched between them as the man studied him with an attention that felt invasive. He was overwhelming in a way Knox couldn’t understand. His eyes were the worst of it, focused and unyielding, like they’d already stripped Knox down to whatever mattered.

Knox’s attention snagged on his mouth, unexpectedly soft against the severity of everything else. The observation felt intrusive. He didn’t know why that detail lodged in his mind, and he wished it hadn’t. He looked away too slow, shifting in his chair, more unsettled than before.

“Do you understand why you’re here?” The voice was deep and rough, scraping low enough to vibrate in Knox’s chest.

Knox swallowed. “Because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Yes.”

Knox bit his lip. “I didn’t tell anyone.”

“I know.”

The calm certainty in the man’s voice made Knox’s stomach twist. He wasn’t reassuring; he was stating a fact—like Knox’s silence was already accounted for.

He leaned forward, tattooed forearms resting on the table, the space between them shrinking in a way that felt deliberate. The air suddenly charged with something Knox couldn’t name. “You saw something you shouldn’t have,” he said. “That makes you a problem.”

Knox’s pulse kicked. “Then why am I still alive?”

He held Knox’s gaze without blinking. “Because you didn’t behave like everyone else.”

Knox frowned, confusion cutting through the fear. “I didn’t do anything.”

“No,” the man agreed. “You didn’t. Do you know what people usually do?”

Knox shook his head.

“They scream, cry, and beg.” His voice remained calm, almost conversational. “They promise me money they don’t have. Information I already know. They tell me about children that don’t exist or girlfriends they suddenly remember loving.”

Heat crawled up Knox’s spine. He hadn’t realized that mattered, that every reaction had been noted and weighed.

The man’s gaze moved over Knox’s face, like he was replaying the memory. “You didn’t do any of those things. There was fear, but it didn’t own you the way it does most people.”

Knox lifted his chin, defiance rising before he could stop it. “Didn’t realize it was a test. Guess that makes me special.”

“You’re angry.”

Knox’s hands clenched harder. “You dragged me here. Should I be grateful?”