Page 84

“We’ll continue this discussion later,” he says, turning toward the door.
His steps are slow and deliberate, each echoing in the room’s stillness. Just before he reaches the exit, he flicks the spent cigarette butt onto the cracked concrete, the ember slowly diesafter it hits the floor. It bounces once, rolling lazily before coming to a stop, a piece of trash left behind—like me.
“Do think carefully about where your loyalties lie,” he adds, his voice cold and detached. “The consequences of choosing poorly can be—severe.”
As the door closes behind him, I let out a shaky breath. Round one survived, but the real battle is just beginning.
TWENTY-NINE
Blaze
Wolfe sighs,shaking his head in mock disappointment, but I catch the gleam of anticipation in his eyes as he selects a wicked-looking pair of pliers from the cart.
“Very well,” he says, turning back to me with a smile that chills me to my core. “Let’s begin, shall we?”
His polished shoes click against the concrete as he circles my chair. Each step is measured, deliberate—a shark circling its prey. I keep my gaze fixed straight ahead, refusing to track his movement.
“Now, Mr. Hawkins…” His voice drips honey and venom. “Let’s talk about your team. Guardian HRS, isn’t it? Quite the impressive operation you’ve got there.”
Silence stretches between us. I can feel his eyes boring into me, probing for weakness.
“Come now,” Wolfe tuts, “there’s no need for this bravado. We both know how this ends. Why don’t you make it easier on yourself?”
My throat is sandpaper, but I rasp out the only words I’ll give him. “Got nothing to say to you.”
He chuckles, the sound setting my teeth on edge. “Oh, I think you do. For instance, how did you track us so efficiently? Your response time was… Might I say—impressive.”
I say nothing. The room’s musty air feels thick and oppressive.
Wolfe leans in close, his breath hot on my ear. “What resources are at your disposal? Satellite surveillance? Government ties? Or perhaps…” his voice drops to a whisper, “something more exotic?”
My muscles tense involuntarily. How much does he know?
“Classified,” I grunt, falling back on old training.
“Classified,” Wolfe repeats mockingly. He resumes his pacing. “You do realize your situation, don’t you? There’s no cavalry coming, Mr. Hawkins. No last-minute rescue.”
A bead of sweat trickles down my spine. I focus on my breathing, slow and steady.
“Your methods intrigue me,” Wolfe continues. “The efficiency, the precision. Almost—military, one might say. Special forces, perhaps?”
I clench my jaw, fighting to keep my expression neutral. Wolfe’s eyes narrow, catching the minute reaction.
“Ah,” he breathes. “Getting warmer, aren’t we?”
“You seem to have all the answers,” I deflect. “Why bother asking me?”
Wolfe’s polite mask slips for a fraction of a second. Frustration flashes in his eyes, quickly hidden.
“Information can be such a fickle thing,” he says, voice tightening almost imperceptibly. “One likes to verify from the source.”
He stops in front of me, hands clasped behind his back. “Let’s try another angle, shall we? Your team’s response to Aria Holbrook’s abduction. How did you mobilize so quickly?”
I meet his gaze, unflinching. “Just lucky, I guess.”
Wolfe’s nostrils flare. A muscle twitches in his jaw. “Luck,” he spits the word. “Had nothing to do with it. You were prepared. You knew.”
“If you say so.”