Or killed?
She didn’t have an answer.
That frightened her more than the fight ever could.
Chapter Six
“You done pretendingyou don’t know what we’re asking?”Dorian’s voice was calm, almost conversational, but it carried easily in the concrete-walled interrogation room.
The rogue laughed.
It was a broken sound—too loud, too sharp, skidding along the edge of hysteria.He was shackled to the chair bolted into the floor, wrists cuffed behind him, ankles chained, head hanging forward as if his neck could no longer hold the weight of his thoughts.
“Pretending?”the rogue rasped.He lifted his face, eyes glassy and unfocused, pupils blown wide.“You think I’m pretending?”
Dorian stood back against the wall, arms folded loosely, weight settled through his heels.He let Malik and Jamal have the floor.This wasn’t his role.Not yet.
The sublevel interrogation floor of E.S.E.HQ was a far cry from Command.No glass.No light panels.Just poured concrete, steel drains in the floor, and lighting that never quite decided whether it wanted to be dim or clinical.It smelled faintly of disinfectant and copper.
Rafe stood a few feet away, silent as a blade in its sheath, gaze fixed on the rogue with a predator’s patience.Ivan and Victor leaned against the far wall, massive presences barely contained by the room, their attention divided between the man in the chair and the data scrolling on a tablet in Ivan’s hand.
Malik stepped forward and hit the rogue.
It wasn’t a wild punch.It was controlled.A straight shot to the ribs that knocked the air out of the man and snapped his laughter short.
“Answer the question,” Malik said evenly.
The rogue wheezed, shoulders jerking as he dragged air back into his lungs.“You don’t get it,” he gasped.“This isn’t what happens when we go bad.This is what happens when we stop pretending we can live like you.”
Dorian’s jaw tightened.
Rogues who drifted didn’t always end up like this—but the ones who did followed a pattern.Isolation.Paranoia.Escalation.Violence layered on violence until the mind fractured under the weight of it.Power without restraint.Hunger without end.
Jamal crouched in front of the rogue, forearms braced on his thighs.“You didn’t just drift.You chose this.”
The rogue’s lips peeled back in something like a grin.“I chose freedom.”
