A radio crackled at his shoulder with a flat, official voice. The kind of cadence that makes spines remember training. “Hold staging. Boss wants some more information on the guy. Keep him alive. Do not move until green.”
Everything changed by one sentence. The hands on him hesitated, not because they cared, but because orders make cowards of men who love them.
“You heard it,” another voice snapped from the stairs. “Back in the box. Boss wants him breathing.”
Swearing. Short, ugly. They dragged him to the threshold, swore at the cuffs, and shoved him back across the line. He hit the mesh and dropped to a knee. Keys chattered. The lock snapped like a jaw.
“Looks like someone is looking out for you,” a bored voice said.
“Take me instead,” I blurted, words out ahead of sense.
The beam found my face like it could peel it. The guard smirked, amused and not threatened at all. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We know the order.”
The door slammed. My hands shook so hard the bottle rattled against the floor. I forced my fingers still and pushed them through the seam until I could reach him. “Cap.”
His tied hands found mine on the other side, all heat and callus. “I’m here.”
“I thought,” The rest stuck.
“I know.” His thumb made one small pass over my knuckle. “Listen.”
Upstairs, a radio clicked, and voices passed by like weather. I couldn’t catch the words. Maybe that was better. My heart thudded at my tongue anyway.
“What do we do?” I asked.
“Breathe,” he said. “Watch. When the stupid shows itself, we break it.”
It wasn’t comfort. It worked better than comfort. I pressed my cheek to the wire and counted our breaths until mine listened. I stayed like that until the guards’ footsteps went soft upstairs and the vent took back the room.
We were still in the same dark. We weren’t in the same cage. Both truths could live.
For now.
