“She is not. She came here under false pretenses. She lied, and she will pay for those lies unless you tell me where the Democrática Resistencia is keeping their money.”
“I cannot.Por favor.I have been here for too long. There were plans in place if one of us were to be captured.” Luis’s desperation climbs with every word, and he struggles weakly, panting from the effort.
“That is unfortunate,” Ochoa says. He slides a folding knife from his pocket and flicks it open. My stomach lurches, and I shake my head, unable to stop myself from whimpering.
It does no good as he lunges for me, grabs my hair, and forces my head back. The slice to my cheek is so fast that, at first, I don’t even feel it. But a heartbeat later, my scream echoes off the walls and my thoughts fuzz. Something warm drips down my jaw, and fiery pain consumes the entire right side of my face.
The taste of blood makes me retch, which only makes the pain worse.
“Tell me!” General Ochoa shouts. “Where can I find the last of the dissidents? Who leads them? You will talk or she will suffer so much more.”
“Please do not harm her!” Luis’s cry rouses me from the haze of pain, and I force my head up, blinking hard to make sense of the shifting shapes before me. Darkness threatens to obscure everything, but after I manage a deep breath, the general’s satisfied grin is the first thing I see.
Another flash of the knife and more flames lick along my collarbone. Shit. How much blood can I lose before I pass out?
“Do you wish to see her die?”
“No!”
“Then tell me what I need to know.”
Yes.Si. I will,” he says. “Anything. Do something for her,por favor. There is too much blood.”
Ochoa’s eyes take on an odd glean up as he pulls out a lighter and runs the knife through the flame. My entire body starts to shake. No. He can’t. He wouldn’t.
“General Ochoa,” I whimper. “I was wrong...about that drink.”
He ignores me and presses the red hot blade to the wound on my cheek. The world goes quiet and dark, only muffled shouts reaching my consciousness as I drown in an ocean of agony.
“Stop. She cannot take any more!” Luis’s voice sounds like it’s coming through a long tunnel. One I have to fight my way through.
“S’okay,” I mumble and blink back my tears. His horrified expression shifts in and out of focus.
Think. You need to focus. Tell him something. Anything.
“Catherine would want you to be free.” I hold Luis’s gaze. My birth mother never went by Catherine. It’s the only thing I can think to say that might stop him from giving up everything he knows, because the truth is written all over his face.
Seeing me in pain broke him.
The soldiers untie him and drag him towards the door, but as he passes me, he reaches for my hand. His fingers slip quickly from mine—bound to the chair, I can’t move to hold onto him, but he whispers, “Catherine would have loved you.”
I hope to God that means he got my message, and when it’s just the general, me, and Alvarado left in the room, I swallow hard and look up at Ochoa. “I did my part.” Every word hurts as the very act of speaking tugs at the newly cauterized wound, but it has to be getting close to shift change, and I still haven’t seen Trevor.
“Si. You did. If Rojas tells me what I want to know, he will be released.”
“Let me see Trevor.” When his eyes harden, I quickly add, “Please. He’ll listen to me. Just…let me hold him. I can’t do this from across a room. Not with him. After that, there’s nothing else you can possibly want from us. Trevor hasn’t been in the CIA for years, and I promise we’ll never return to Venezuela again.”
He inclines his head. “And the news article?”
“I’ll call my editor. After I see Trevor. Bring me a phone, and I’ll say whatever you want me to say. How much longer do I have to wait?“
“Not long at all.” Ochoa nods to Alvarado, and they both leave, slamming the door on their way out.
Lowering my head so my hair hopefully hides my lips from the cameras at opposing corners of the room, I whisper, “What time is it at the Daily Planet?”
“Sixteen-forty-four,” Ryker hisses in my ear. “One to ten, how bad off are you?”
I can’t tell him. Not and be honest about it. My entire body hurts, and the cut on my collarbone is still oozing blood. At least that one wasn’t as deep. So I lie. “Three.”
