Page 241 of Operation: Defiance

“Let’s try again,” he says. “How long has she known about OSI?”

I shift my weight, rebalancing and taking a small amount of pressure off my lower back. “Long enough.”

Chad lets out a breath that almost turns into a laugh. “That helpfulness thing you’ve got going on? Yeah, that won’t last.”

The muscles along my ribs tighten as the strain in my shoulders deepens, but I keep my expression neutral.

“What else does she have?” Mark asks.

Ah, there is it. The only question that matters. If they knew, they wouldn’t be asking.

I shift again, but it’s slower this time. The pain in my side reminds me the glass is still there somewhere under the bandage.

Chad moves close enough I can smell the coffee on his breath. “Do you really want to stand here all afternoon?”

A single scuff in the paint draws my gaze. I can use that. It keeps my focus from drifting, keeps my expression neutral, keeps my mind sharp.

“That depends,” I answer.

“On?”

My tone doesn’t change. Nothing does. “On how many times you insist on asking the same question.”

Pressure hits the back of my left knee. The cuffs rattle, my forehead brushes the wall, and every muscle in my back protests. A harsh breath hisses between my teeth before I can lock it down.

“Feeling it now, Locke?” Chad starts to pace behind me, and the questions continue.

Five minutes. Ten. I stop following the words. Instead I count my breaths. Something steady to anchor to while the questions pass through the room and dissolve against the wall in front of me.

Eventually, Mark’s chair scrapes against the concrete floor. “That’s enough for now.”

Chad steps in, releasing the cuffs from the wall. My arms drop immediately, shoulders protesting as blood rushes back into muscles locked in place for too long.

He steers me back to the chair, drags my wrists forward, and secures them to the rings welded to the table. This time, there’s enough slack I can rest my forearms against the cool metal.

The change is more calculation than kindness. They need me functional. I focus on my breathing until the ache in my upper body fades to something manageable.

I go back to counting the scratches in the table. Their questions were more revealing than any of my answers. They can measure the damage Raine’s done. They have no idea how much more is coming.