"Yes... no... sorry," I stammer, and sink back onto the edge of the bed.
My palms press into my thighs.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
He's not a Brother. This isn't the compound, but my body doesn't know that yet.
Callum doesn't move from where he stands near the door. He watches me for a moment and then gestures toward the tray.
"Your breakfast."
"Thank you," I say as he crosses the room and lowers himself into the chair opposite the bed.
Callum leans back, his posture relaxed in a way that makes me more nervous, not less.
Angry men you can read, relaxed men are unpredictable.
"Now that you've had a few days to rest and eat," he says, his tone flat, "I'd like to talk."
I nod quickly.
"Yes, of course."
My hands twist together in my lap.
"What would you like to know?"
He leans forward, his forearm resting on his knees, and the distance between us shrinks even though neither of us moved.
His eyes, sharp and green, lock onto mine.
"You know," he says, "you're very interesting to me."
I blink.
"What? Why?"
He tilts his head. "Well, I did some digging, and it turns out everything you told me was right."
I stare at him, confusion fighting the tightness in my chest.
"Why would I lie?"
He leans back in the chair again, one hand draping over the armrest, fingers drumming a slow rhythm against the wood.
"The better question is why wouldn't you."
I open my mouth, but he continues before I can respond.
"In my basement, you spilled everything without hesitation. I didn't even have to pull it out of you. Why?"
His gaze doesn't waver. It's not cruel, but it's not kind either.
I take a much needed breath.
"For a long time," I say slowly, "I've been told how to think. How to act. What to say. And I went along with it because... because I thought that was what loyalty looked like."
I pause, swallowing hard.
