Fire sears the sensitive nerves under my thumbnail. The sound I make? It’s not human. I won’t scream. Can’t give him the satisfaction. But soon, these keening whimpers and strangled groans won’t be enough. For me or for him.Or François. He’s watching. Somewhere close.
“Five down. Five to go. Then we start on your toes.” Theo stands, brushing his hands together with a smug, self-satisfied grin.
Robbie passes him a bottle of water, and he breaks the seal, gulping half of it down while I writhe desperately against the ropes.
I can’t take my eyes off the bottle. Hours under the lamps. Dripping with sweat.
“Oh, would you like some?” he asks, waving the bottle in front of my face.
“W-wouldn’t…touch it. M-might catch s-something.” I’d spit on him if my mouth weren’t bone dry.
Robbie grabs my hair and wrenches my head back. Water splashes my face, blessedly cool, but I wasn’t prepared. A single swallow is all I can capture. The rest rolls down my body, joining the large puddle of my sweat on the floor.
“Do you want to know how IconvincedMartín to hand over his thumb drive?” Theo asks.
The memory of my friend, his eyes open, chest still, threatens to swallow me whole, and I shake my head, clamping my lips together so hard between my teeth, I taste blood.
Robbie flicks each one of the needles, chuckling. My vision goes white. The scream is muffled behind my lips but giving in to my own weakness is the worst kind of torture.
Coming up behind me, Theo whispers in my ear. “Like this.” A knuckle digs into a pressure point between my shoulder and neck.
Everything stops. I can’t breathe. Can’t make a sound. My mouth is open, my muscles straining against the ropes. He lets up, but before I can do more than suck in a wheezing breath, moves to the other shoulder.
Dark streaks obscure my vision. I hear nothing but the rapid-fire beat of my heart. The pain fades away. Or do I?
A harsh odor burns my nose, and I jerk. The chair rattles.
“Can’t have you passing out.” Theo waves a small paper capsule—now broken—in front of my face. Smelling salts. “I can’t give you another shot for at least forty-five minutes. And we have so much to do before then.”
* * *
I no longer scream.I can’t. After the third finger of my right hand, Robbie had to tie my torso to the back of the chair. I’m too weak to sit up.
Spots float in front of my eyes. Theo’s face is fuzzy. Don’t have to worry about seeing the needles anymore. Too small. Too far away.My toes…even the pressure of the concrete underneath them is too much.
No more. Kill me. Please.
“I have been looking for you for a long time, street rat,” a smooth voice says as footsteps draw closer.
François.
Someone yanks my head up, and the man I hate most in this world grabs my chin. Thick fingers threaten to crush my jawbone. Thank God, I’m too weak to make a sound.
“I know you stole files from us before you left. I need them back. All of them.”
Do my eyes convey what I’m screaming in my head?
“Fuck you.”
“Not ready to talk?” He squeezes harder, and I whimper. “Maybe some time alone will help that.”
My head falls forward. Every breath is a struggle. A small sting at my elbow barely registers until my fractured thoughts catch up with reality. The stimulants kick in, and I sit up straight, jerking my hands against the ropes. My eyes feel like they’re bulging. Maybe they are.
Robbie and Theo each take one of my hands. Oh, fuck. The needles hurt more coming out than going in. Halfway through, one of them rouses me witha packet of smelling salts.They have to use another after finishing with my toes.
Blood oozes around my wrists. My heart pounds. But I’m too weak to fight. I watch, helpless, as they cut the ropes.
The floor rushes up to meet me. God. It’s so hot.
