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He dragged himself onto his elbows. “I think that’s only fair,” he retorted, as snarky as ever.
“I knew you were high up the hierarchy,” I mused.
“You just didn’t know I was the hierarchy.” He released a soft chuckle that, to me, sounded nervous. “Few ever did. Until now. What do you want?”
“You to die. Horribly,” I said pleasantly.
“I can give you whatever you want, Star. I have uncapped resources at my disposal.”
“Your world is tumbling down around you, Sheridan. You don’t have dick at your disposal anymore.” I smiled at him. “How does it feel to know that one of your sex slaves is holding the bonds to your freedom, hmm? Bittersweet? Annoying?”
“I knew I should have harvested your organs instead. I just preferred the prospect of you suffering more,” he growled.
Harvesting my organs?
I didn’t, not for a moment, let my expression falter.
“Sounds like this got personal a long time before I served under your directorship, Sheridan. Sharing is caring. Want to tell me when you started hating my guts?”
“In our Brothers we trust,” he mockingly sang.
“You thought I was a Brother?” I sneered.
“No. I knew who your family was though. Even if you didn’t.”
My mouth tightened. “How did you know that?”
He just scoffed. “What are you going to do with me? The director of the CIA can’t go missing. There are repercussions—”
“I wasn’t a Brother before, but I’m not against using every option open to me when the time comes.”
“That old bastard—more faces than Janus himself.” He turned a stony look my way. “If you trust him, then you’re a fool.”
“I trust no one.”
It was only when I uttered the words that I realized that was a lie.
And that was not a conversation I needed to have with myself right now.
Chuckles sounded outside, and his shoulders hunched as he whipped around as if he could see with his own two eyes what was happening. “What is that?”
“Don’t you mean who? Got some of your friends here, Sheridan. It’s going to be one big party.”
For the first time, his stoicism ruptured—his jaw quivered. “I can give you anything you want.”
“I don’t want anything.”
“Power, money—”
“How about, after years of being raped, can you delete the memories? Can you give me back nights where I sleep through without being plagued with nightmares? No? Didn’t think so.”
“I have connections!”
“What connections could you give me that would put you in a position to bargain?” I crowed.
“There must be some reason you’re here,” he shouted, sounding more and more desperate by the minute. “You must want something or you'd have just killed me weeks ago!”
I smiled at him. “You know, at my core, I’ve always been a hater. It’s just in me. It’s just who I am. And you, my dear Sheridan, have gotten on the wrong side of all that hate.”
