Page 96 of Deadly Force

His hair’s matted with sweat, shirt half-untucked, a tremor running through his hand as he wipes his mouth.

“Why did it have to be you? It’salwaysyou,” he says.

I’m so confused as to what’s happening right now, I let silence hang between us. Classic journalism school tactic—let the silence do the work. People hateit. They crack under it.

But not this time.

He moves so fast I don’t even flinch; just feel the slap ring through my skull. My ears scream.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he says, breathing hard.

He lunges in, grabs my chin. His fingers dig into my jaw, forcing my head up.

“How’s this for truth? You picked the wrong night to work late.”

My pulse spikes. “Why? What have I done? You’re the one committing adultery.”

He scowls. “What you always do.Get in the way.”

I shake off his grip. “Are you out of your mind? You tied me to a chair!”

He turns his back on me and starts pacing. “You don’t know the pressure I’m under. The Morrison account, my job is at stake. Cheryl… she’s high maintenance. Spends money faster than I can earn it.”

I blink. Once. Twice. “Lawrence. What is going on? Why am Iin the basement? Why did you hit me?”

He rounds on me, sneering. “You just had to protect your source, even after Eliza was dead.”

My heart sinks so fast it leaves a hollow in my chest. “What do you… I never told you her name.”

He half-hisses at words. “You’ve forced me to do this tonight.”

Forced him?

My brain is scrambling to connect the dots. His affair? Eliza?

“Wait… is this why you wanted to work the story with me? Not to help. Not to uncover anything. To control it?”

He doesn’t answer me. He’s spiraling. All his carefully controlled mannerisms are disappearing fast.

“Lawrence,” I say slowly. “Untie me. We can talk this through upstairs.”

He doesn’t answer. Whatever is happening to him right now, he’s blaming it on me.

“There’s nothing to talk about. You’ll tell Cheryl, and it’ll all be over.”

Darn right I’d tell his wife. I still will if I get out of here. “What do you think is going to happen here?”

He casts a look at me, then over my shoulder to the wall behind. “The story never could have been told.”

I shake my head and instantly regret it. Whatever he hit me with was sharp. I can feel blood trickling down my neck.

“What happened to you? You’re supposed to be a gatekeeper for the truth.”

“Gatekeeper?” he scoffs. “You still think this job is about protecting the public? No one wants the truth anymore. They want their side to win. Their enemies humiliated. Their bias confirmed.”

He starts pacing. “You give them facts, and theysay it’s fake news. You give them proof, and they scream cover-up. We’re not reporting, we’re feeding a machine that eats outrage and spits out algorithms.”

He stops. Looks at me like he pities me. “I tried, Brooke. I really did. But you wouldn’t quit. Not after I slashed your tires. Not when I got Juliette to lock you in that classroom.”