“You’re lying,” Callum said softly, raising the hammer.
“I’m not—”
The hammer crashed down onto Marcus’s other kneecap with devastating force. The scream that followed was primal, tearing from his throat as his body convulsed against the restraints. Blood and fragments of bone sprayed across the floor, some landing on Callum’s boots. The visceral display of violence didn’t faze him. He’d done worse, much worse, in rooms similar to this one across the Heart.
“You have more fingers, another elbow, and various other appendages to work with,” Callum said once the screaming subsided to whimpers. “How much of yourself are you willing to sacrifice for Maximus Serel?”
The officer’s face had gone gray with pain, sweat beading on his forehead. “You don’t understand,” he gasped. “He’ll kill my family if I talk.”
“He’ll kill everyone if you don’t,” Shadera interjected, sliding off the table and gesturing her head toward Callum. She approached the chair, crouching to meet Marcus’s gaze. “Including your family.”
Callum wouldn’t, actually. He had a strict moral code even if flawed. No children, no women. But if it helped to get information, he’d let Shadera use the threat.
“We know about the bombs. Give us details,” Shadera replied, putting pressure on his shattered knee.
Marcus hissed in pain as Callum’s eyes shot to her. She already knew about the bombs. He’d only learned about them yesterday in his interrogation with Davish.What else does she know?
“The . . . bombs . . .” Marcus’s breath came in shallow pants. “They aren’t normal. They’re designed specifically for the rings.”
Callum felt his stomach twist. “What kind are they?”
“Incendiary. Gas. Things that will destroy human life but leave buildings standing.” His words tumbled out now, pain and fear loosening his tongue. “The President says the rings have become too populated, too unmanageable. He’s been testing them on the Cardinal workers, t-that’s why they haven’t gone home. They’re dead. They’re all dead. He’s calling it The Culling.”
The Culling.
Callum’s hand tightened around the hammer’s handle until his knuckles ached.
“When?” Greyson demanded, stepping forward. “When is this Culling scheduled to begin?”
“I-I don’t know. I just know it’s happening. T-that they have perfected the gas.”
“And the deployment plan?” Callum pressed. “Which sectors are targeted first?”
The officer hesitated, his gaze darting between the three of them. “All of it. The gas was created with mapping molecules. It’s designed to stop at the Heart’s border.”
Callum’s eyes met Greyson’s, fear passing between them. This was worse than anything he had expected, anything he could have imagined. This was hundreds of thousands of people. Men, women, and children.
“Why?” Shadera asked, her voice strained. “Why would he do this?”
Marcus’s jaw clenched. “He is making room for something.”
Greyson went perfectly still, a dangerous energy radiating from him.
Callum opened his mouth to press for more details, hammer raised and ready to strike when a voice came from the doorway.
“What the fuck are you guys doing?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, horror evident in every syllable. She stood frozen, taking inthe blood spattered floor, the bound and broken officer, the hammer in Callum’s hand.
The three of them stared at her, caught in a tableau of violence. Callum lowered the hammer slowly, shame burning through him at being discovered like this. Not the torture itself—he’d long ago reconciled himself to the necessity of such actions—but that Lira, of all people, should see this side of him. The side he’d worked so hard to keep away from her.
“Lira.” Greyson recovered first, stepping forward. “How’d you get in here?”
She held up a cluster of keys, her hand trembling slightly. “I used my key. No one answered when I called or knocked, but I knew you were home.” Her eyes moved from Greyson to Shadera, then finally settled on Callum, lingering on the blood that covered his clothes, his hands, his face. “What is this?”
Callum couldn’t bear the way she looked at him, as if seeing a stranger wearing the face of someone she trusted. He set the hammer down on the table, wishing he could wipe away the evidence of what he’d been doing, what he was capable of.
“We needed information,” he said, his voice steadier than he felt. “Information that could save thousands of lives.”
Lira’s eyes moved to Marcus, whose consciousness seemed to be fading, his head lolling forward as blood continued to pool beneath his shattered knees.
