Page 253 of Operation: Defiance

Everything in me wants to fight. Flip the goddamn table, find a way out of these cuffs, and break Phil and Jay’s fucking necks.

“She means a lot to you,” Phil says. It’s not a question. Shit. I gave them too much. Did the one thing I swore I wouldn’t do. Lose control. “You know she’s unstable, Locke. Clearly she’s getting worse if she’s being this careless. If you tell us where she is, we’ll bring her in. Keep her safe so she doesn’t get herself killed.”

I lock down my expression. GSD isn’t getting their hands on Raine if I have anything to say about it. But cuffed to this table, exhausted, and bleeding, my ability to do anything is slipping away.

Jay gets right in my face. “Centralia went up in flames ten minutes after this photo was taken.”

The news lands somewhere behind my sternum. I keep it there for later, for when I can focus on Raine’s brilliance. Remember her arms around me. Her lips on mine.

Turning my gaze to the angry fucker invading my personal space, I let my lips curve slightly. “She’s thorough. Always has been. Always will be.”

“How’d she do it?” Jay starts pacing again. He’s going to wear a hole in the floor if he keeps this up.

I lift my hands slightly in a shrug, flexing my fingers to get a modicum of circulation back. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you that. I’ve been staring at these walls for hours.”

“Did she extract anyone? Take any files?” This from Phil, who’s apparently finally gotten with the program.

I stare at Phil for a long moment. Then slide my gaze to the wall. They don’t get anything else from me. Not yet.

Jay’s steps shorten. Tighter. Faster. Good. That means he’s losing patience. Impatient assholes make mistakes.

“We have people looking for her, Mr. Locke,” Phil says. “Every minute you don’t talk to us is another minute she’s out there alone.”

Whatever patience Jay’s losing, Phil is collecting with interest.

“Who else knew about the Centralia facility?” Jay grabs a fistful of my hair and bends my head back until I can barely swallow. “Someone’s been helping her, and we need a fucking name.”

I blink at him, expression placid, body as relaxed as I can manage after more than twelve hours in this chair.

Jay loosens his grip, and I roll my head from side to side. Then return my focus to the scratches on the table.

Across from me, Phil’s hands are curled into fists, and he’s shaking. Well, shit. “Get him up. This is going nowhere.”

Here we go. This is the part where I stop thinking about anything but getting through the next few minutes. However many it takes.

My job is to give her time.

Jay frees my wrists from the rings welded to the table. The chain scrapes over the surface, leaving me at least one new scratch to count.

I could fight, but I have no idea what’s outside that door. Or if it’s even unlocked. So I let Jay pull me to my feet. My vision goes sideways from the sudden drop in blood pressure, and I almost go down. “Wall. Now,” Jay shouts.

“Fine. I’m a wall.” I don’t move, locking my knees.

“For fuck’s sake.” Phil shoves his chair back, and the two of them muscle me over to the back wall. “Start listening to us, Locke. Or this gets very bad, very fast.”

“Threats this early? You’re better than that, Phil.” I look for what I missed in all the hours I’ve been sitting at that table. Shit. There it is. A hasp embedded in the ceiling with a thick chain attached.

Jay wrenches my arms high above my head, locking the cuffs to the chain, then using some demented pulley system to force me up onto my toes. The position leaves my cheek pressed to the cold concrete and my back to the room.

The burn in my shoulders starts immediately. I close my eyes, conserving as much of my energy as I can.

It doesn’t help. My arms are already trembling. Within minutes, the strain will hit my back, my core, and my legs too.

“How’d she do it, Locke?” Jay asks. “She’s working with someone else—besides you. Who is it?”

I pin my gaze to a tiny crack in the wall. Raine knows what she’s doing. My job is to give her time.

“And here we thought you were the only one she trusted,” Phil says. “Clearly, we were wrong. Question is…when did you find out? Just now?”