“If she’s lying, though, and we bring her here, that makes for one hell of a security risk,” Steel said, and he knew that now the man had Rose, he took their safety even more seriously than he always had before. “Do you believe her?”
Therein lay the problem. As much as he hated to answer that, admitting his weaknesses to his team, keeping them alive and safe was his only priority so he had to be honest. “I don’t know. I think when it comes to reading her, I'm compromised.”
January 11th
6:05 P.M.
He’d been gone a really long time.
At least it felt like it.
Maybe it wasn't … Whitney wasn't sure anymore.
Everything felt hazy … distant … numb.
Other than an overall throbbing throughout her body, and a cold that seemed to have seeped deep inside her and would never be able to be removed, she didn't feel anything else, even though she knew she had several cuts from the knife, bruising around her neck from Blade’s hand, and her wrists and shoulders were a mess from hanging for so long.
“Doesn’t matter that you’ll never feel warm again,” she reminded herself aloud because she needed something to break the oppressive silence, and now that she’d started talking again that block of fear seemed to have disappeared.
What was the point of being afraid?
It wouldn't change the outcome of her situation.
Blade didn't believe her, and of course, he was right, there was nothing to verify anything she’d said, because for all intents and purposes, she didn't exist anymore.
“You exist for the purposes of revenge, though.”
That was absolutely true. And she deserved whatever Blade and his team had planned for her. After all, whether it turned out the way she had intended or not, it was her drug that had forever changed his life. It was because of her drug that he’d been kept captive for three years and then had to live the last seven in hiding because Dr. Gardner would never stop looking for them.
Never stop looking for her, either.
Although she guessed that since Blade and his team were going to end her life anyway, she didn't have to worry about her former boss getting his hands on her. She might be a commodity he didn't want to lose, but he could still punish her for turning on him and escaping. Guess there was a silver lining to every cloud.
Was there really?
No.
But it sounded nice.
Sounded hopeful.
Sounded …
“Hey.”
A slap to her cheek accompanied the harsh word, and Whitney realized with a weird sort of detachment she hoped stuck around for her upcoming torture, that she must have passed out.
Oh well.
What could he expect? She hadn't slept properly in over a week, none at all in the last couple of days. She hadn't eaten or had anything to drink in twenty-four hours, and she’d been hanging from a tree in the cold for almost a day.
“Sorry, won't be much fun to torture, can't stay awake,” she mumbled, some distant part of her mind telling her she didn't need to apologize for that, but she didn't care.
Didn’t care much about anything anymore.
Just wanted to rest.
That would be nice.
