“About two hours.”
“Fuckin’ A. Unlock the door and let’s see if he’s any more cooperative this morning.” Groose entered the room with the guard following, appraising the shifter in front of him.
“Bout fucking time! I asked for you hours ago when your man wouldn’t give me some water. That ain’t right. You have to give me water and food. The law says so.”
Groose stood there, his eyes traveling up and down his prisoner then, raising an eyebrow said, “You don’t look like you’re in any position to demand squat. But I’ll tell you what, let’s do some horse trading. You tell me what I want; then if it’s the right answer, I’ll give you something. How does that sound?”
“I need some water first. My throat’s dry.”
“Not dry enough to keep you from yelling for a couple of hours, huh? Now, let’s try this again. What’s yourname?” Groose watched his prisoner carefully and knew he was weighing his choices—a name for some water. Thinking a little incentive would help, Groose said to the guard, “Go get a glass of water.” It seemed to have worked—his prisoner’s face reflected satisfaction for a second or two until he schooled his face to show anger.
Realizing his prisoner was only feigning anger, hoping it would force them to give him some water, Groose was now sure the water was an excuse, but for what? An escape plan? Overpower the guard? And escape how? Not through a window—too high. The hallway was guarded, and all escape routes blocked. None of it made any sense. But Groosewascertain of one thing—the prisoner had something up his sleeve.
The guard returned with a glass of water and handed it to Groose who set it on the table in front of the prisoner but out of reach. “So, you wanted some water for your dry throat and here it is but first I need your name.”
Groose watched the prisoner’s eyes flicker to the water, then back to him, then to the water, all the time twisting his mouth back and forth. He could tell the prisoner was close to giving his name but needed a little push. “I’m going to give you five seconds to tell me your name, or I will empty this glass.”
The prisoner’s body twitched, his eyes blinked, he opened and shut his mouth several times, yet no sound was forthcoming.
“Your time starts now. 5-4-3-2…”
“Antonio, my name is Antonio.”
“Antonio what?”
“Just Antonio.”
“What pack are you with?”
The prisoner scoffed, “None, I belong to something better than a pack.”
“What’s better than a pack?”
“No, if you want more from me, give me the water. I answered your question.”
“So you did, Antonio,” Groose said, adding, “My guard will hold the glass for you.”
“Fine. I just need water.”
Groose watched as his guard walked over to the table, picked up the glass and held it to the shifter’s mouth. After half the water was gone, Antonio shook his head, indicating he’d had enough. Waving the guard away, Groose asked, “Why did you break in the room last night?”
Saying nothing, Antonio just smirked and began mumbling what sounded like a prayer but in an unrecognizable language. Suddenly, violent shaking consumed his body and white foam bubbled from his mouth, dripping down his chin.
“Oh shit! Get Ian! Now!” Groose ordered, reaching his prisoner in a heartbeat and removing his restraints. Laying him down on the floor, he opened his mouth and found a black tongue. “Fuck!” Checking his pulse and finding none, Groose began to do chest compressions, hoping they’d keep Antonio alive until Ian could administer an antidote.
Poison! Fucking poison! Unfuckingbeleivable!Blaming himself for not thinking of that possibility, Groose continued to pump Antonio’s chest until Ian and Coltonshowed up and moved him out of the way. Sitting on his heels, he watched as the two worked tirelessly to save his prisoner but, in the end, could not.
Groose looked up, seeing that Logan and Slate had joined them. “He killed himself and I don’t have a clue as to how he did it.”
Opening the prisoner’s mouth and pointing to a spot with a missing tooth, Ian said, “I do. See, right there, I’m pretty sure he had a false tooth packed with Wolfsbane and some other poison. The tooth was probably made of material that dissolves when it comes in contact with water, freeing the poison. It’s perfect because no one is suspicious if a prisoner asks for water.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” said Logan. “Why would it melt this time and not any other time he drank water?”
“Because it was put in specially for his mission tonight,” Ian said. “I’ve heard of this used by groups who feared their agents would break under torture if they were captured.”
“I’ve never heard of it before,” Colton said. “Are you saying he was on a suicide mission?”
“Only if he got caught. I believe whoever sent him knew the likelihood of completing his job and escaping was impossible, so they made sure he wouldn’t be able to say anything,” Ian said.
