Page 119 of Whistleblower

He picks her up by the throat and I watch her entire face turn purple as she gasps futilely for air. “I have never killed a woman or a cop before,” he snarls. “Clearly today is a day for exceptions.”

He chucks her with such force that she hurtles into my desk before crumpling on the ground. There’s a loud crack. Maybe my desk, maybe her back, but all I know is that the only man who makes me feel safe is scaring the shit out of me at the present moment.

“Linc, please.”

Hearing my voice breaks the rageful spell. He stops his attack immediately, crosses the room, and squats down in front of me. He doesn’t bother turning around as Vesper enters, he’s busy examining me head to toe.

“Oh, Eden,” she murmurs, then proceeds to collect the gun on the ground, Harmon’s weapon, and helps Callen stand. “Do you need an ambulance?”

I shake my head.

“Your cheek…your lip…your wrists.” Linc names off body parts softly as he pulls a pocketknife from his pants and cuts the zip ties. I moan in relief as I rub my freed wrists. “Does anything else hurt?”

“My stomach,” I say. Helping me stand, he yanks up my shirt and grits his teeth. Perhaps my ribs look a bit worse than they feel at the moment. Pulling my shirt back down, I smile, ignoring my aching lip. “I mean I’m hungry.”

He begins to laugh and then tears well in his eyes.

Holy shit. Is he crying?

He’s so silent and still, I reach up to touch his tears, just to ensure they’re real. “You can’t do this to me again,” he says softly. He nuzzles into my hand before grabbing it and kissing all over the marks on my wrists. “You have to be careful, Eden, because you’re responsible for both of our lives now. Do you understand? I can’t live without you.”

Sucking in a deep breath, I nod, before I fumble for his holster and free his gun. Linc lets me take his weapon, knowing exactly where I’m headed. He doesn’t intervene. Standing over Ravi, I nudge her shoulder with my toe. She rolls over and looks up at me. I’m sure she’d lunge if she could, but it’s quite apparent her back is broken.

“I said I didn’t have it.” I cock the gun. “You should’ve listened.” She looks scared. The same way the last prisoner in the photo did. The same way Roman did. The same way I must’ve for the past year of my life. But for some reason, I don’t feel sympathy for Ravi, just rage. For the first time in my life, I want to pull this trigger.

I want to hurt her.

I want to kill her.

Extending my arms, I hold the gun closer to her face.

“Watch the recoil, Eden. The force on my pistol could snap your wrists,” Linc says from behind me.

“Does it change you?” I ask, briefly looking over my shoulder before I return to Ravi’s twitching eyes. “Killing someone?”

“Yes,” Vesper answers. “Forever.”

“From the moment you pull the trigger,” Callen adds.

Linc takes a few paces and puts his hand against the small of my back. “Do what you need to do to be free. I’ll love you either way.”

My lips spread wide as I look into his steely light blue eyes. It’s not the time or place, but I can’t help but smile. “Love?” I ask him.

“Yes,” he says. “Love.”

“Fucking do it already,” Ravi growls from the ground, but her angry bravado comes out shaky and unconvincing. For someone who was so willing to inflict death and destruction, she sure is terrified to meet her end.

“You’re a special kind of evil, do you know that? The cowardly kind. The kind that hides behind a smokescreen while you invoke terror on the unsuspecting. You risked other people’s lives for work accolades. You’re careless with consequences, as long as they aren’t yours. People are numbers to you—to be manipulated and cheated. What you’ve put me through over the past year should’ve changed me for the worse.”

My hands begin to tremble, causing the gun to shake in my hands. Linc notices.

“Eden, you don’t have to do this. Let me,” he says, reaching for the gun. I jerk away from his grip.

“No. She’ll live,” I say firmly. I look into Linc’s eyes so he registers my command clearly. “Do not kill her.”

Looking back down at Ravi, she looks confused. I’m still glaring at her but I feel the relief in my chest. The tight hold that fear and shame has had over me for far too long releases as I realize the truth. I’m not violent, cruel, hateful—but that doesn’t mean I’m not strong.

“I take a lot of pride in being your opposite,” I say the words while looking down at her, rightfully so. “I’m good, merciful, kind…sensitive.” I chuckle as I say the word I once thought was an insult. “The world needs more of me and less of you. And I won’t let you go to your grave not knowing what you really are. I have a feeling that, for a coward like you, exposure is worse than death.”

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