The agitated sensation he’d experienced during Archibald’s interrogation began at the back of his neck and spread throughout his body. Not only because she’d said his name, but she could see the face attached to it. The scent of dust and metal invaded his nostrils.
Remove the threat. She knew too much about him, and that meant she needed to die.
Except, he had to follow orders. And for some reason, he didn’t think he would enjoy killing Wynn Lambdin.
That agitated sensation turned into an all-out burn. His gaze went to the two bleeding lines on her arm. She’d accepted those cuts like sheenjoyed them, and he only knew one person who would’ve done the same.Me.
During his training as a kid, he used to get overwhelmed, panicked, and the only thing that would bring him back to himself was pain. He’d become addicted to it. Egged the other kids on to fight him because hits would bring clarity, then beating the shit out of the other little snots would bring satisfaction.
He’d thought he’d left that all behind—along with his name.
“How do you know that name?” he asked, disgusted that his voice came out weak, choked, the raw parts exposed now that his helmet was disengaged.
She stared at him with parted lips and curiosity-filled eyes. He hated it. She wasn’t begging or pleading for her life. She wasn’t crying or blubbering. In fact, she looked the calmest he’d ever seen her.
Frustration replaced the disbelief, and his senses returned to him like someone poured them back into his body. He stepped back toward her, pulled his gun, and pressed the muzzle against her temple. “How do you know that name?” he ground out.
He’d had so many since he started working for the CORE government as a child, but not that one.Neverthat one.
She shook her head once, her forehead pink where she’d hit him, but white under the pressure of his weapon. The blood from the cuts he’d given her dripped onto her top, some falling to the plastic sheeting in quiet drips.
Fuck the government. He would start cutting off body parts if she didn’t start giving him some answers that made sense.
No, you won’t.
He pressed the gun harder against her head. “How do you know that name?” he repeated.
“You’re not going to kill me,” she said instead of answering, her eyes flashing fire. “You would have done it already if you could.”
“Then how about we see how you feel if I blast off your toes? Would you like that?” He pointed his gun at her feet. “How do you know my name?”
A battle waged behind her eyes, indecision and defiance. She licked her lips, then said, “Cut me down and I’ll tell you.”
“Tell me, then I’ll cut you down.”
“I can’t trust you.”
“No, you can’t,” he agreed with a nod. “Doesn’t look like you have many options.” He made a show of scanning the cargo hold, empty except for them and containers left for storage.
She swallowed, then lifted her chin in defiance. Her neck was red from where he’d gripped her. “He called you that.”
“Who?”
“Iax.”
It took him a full second to realize she meant the Calypson. The fucker had a name? Sawyer didn’t know why he found that odd, but he did.
“How didheknow my name?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I answered one question. Now cut me down.”
Sawyer didn’t realize he was pacing again and stopped in front of her. The two lines on her arm bleed steadily, hitting the plastic at regular intervals.Drip. Drip. Drip.
He stepped closer, and she tensed. Raising the regenerator, he turned it on with a flick of his thumb. It hummed as he brought it close to her wounds.
Her eyes rolled in the back of her head, like he gave her the greatest pleasure, though he knew the healing process stung.
Fuck, this was weird seeing it from the other side.
