Still a prisoner with no idea when or if I’ll ever get out.
I sink down onto the floor and let myself cry, great heaving sobs that make my chest ache and my throat raw.
My father must be apoplectic with rage at the failed rescue attempt and my mother must be devastated.
I cry until there’s nothing left, and I’m so tired I can barely keep my eyes open.
I crawl into bed, pull the covers over my head, and pray that tomorrow will somehow be better than today.
It won’t be.
But I can pretend.
6
LEO
Someone in my organization is going to die screaming.
The interrogation room in the estate’s basement smells like blood and fear, which is exactly what it’s supposed to smell like.
I’ve been down here for six hours, working my way through every man who was on duty during the attack.
Every guard who could have possibly had access to our security protocols, property layouts, or personnel schedules.
Every single person who might have sold us out to Connor Brennan.
Twenty-three men questioned so far.
Most of them are scared—as they should be—but none of them are guilty.
I can tell the difference.
I’ve been doing this long enough to know when someone’s hiding something versus when they’re just terrified their boss is going to put a bullet in their head.
The man currently zip-tied to the chair in front of me is named Louis, and he’s one of my more experienced guards.
He was positioned on the east wall when Connor’s men breached the south gate, which means he couldn’t have been directly involved in the initial attack.
But I’m thorough.
Everyonegets questioned.
“Walk me through it again,” I say, my voice calm and controlled. I’m sitting on the edge of a table, arms crossed, watching Louis’s every micro-expression. “From the moment the alarms started to when you engaged.”
Louis’s been sweating for the last thirty minutes, but his story hasn’t changed.
That’s good. Liars tend to adjust details when they’re nervous as they want to make their story more believable.
Truth-tellers just repeat the same facts.
“I was doing my perimeter check on the east wall when the first explosion hit the south gate,” he says for the third time. His voice is steady despite the fear in his eyes. “I immediately radioed it in and took position behind the northeast guard tower. I saw at least twenty hostiles coming through the breach—maybe twenty-five. They weren’t street thugs.”
“Weapons?”
“AR-15s, mostly. A few shotguns. I saw at least two men carrying what looked like breaching charges for the secondary gates.”
That matches what everyone else has reported.