Page 85 of Stars and Scars

“So why are you doing this? For money? Really?”

Malloy’s face twists into a sneer.

“I’ve got three alimony payments a month, plus the damn government keeps raising the property taxes to the point where my house costs more every year than the original mortgage. It’s not fair, Gray. The CIA hung us out to dry, with a crappy pension and a watch.”

“Don’t try to lump us into this together, Malloy. I never stabbed a friend in the back.”

Malloy scoffs.

“Friends? We were never friends, Gray. Associates, sure. People who helped each other out on difficult cases. But I never made any friends at the Agency.”

It’s my turn to scoff. “Obviously, neither did I.”

Malloy’s gaze snaps away from me to something I can’t see beyond the door. I hear Wyatt’s voice, and the sound of stumbling footsteps.

“Get moving, you vapid bitch!”

Malloy steps aside, allowing Wyatt access to the room. Wyatt’s not alone. I almost laugh with relief when I see that he has Charlotte with him. She’s alive, and apparently unhurt. I want to ask her if she’s all right, but considering Wyatt gagged her with a bar towel, I don’t think it’s an option. Her hands have been bound with more of the paracord holding me to the bed frame.

But she’s alive. And as long as she’s alive, there's hope.

“Wyatt, you son of a bitch,” I snarl. “I should have listened to my gut. You were behind this the whole time.”

Wyatt no longer has the glazed over look in his eyes. Neither does he stand like he’s on the verge of falling over. He played me, as surely as I’ve ever been played.

“Grayson, Grayson, Grayson…” Wyatt says with a sigh. “You’ve been most suppressive of our vision.”

“Your vision? What is that, exactly?”

As long as I can keep him talking, I can keep myself and Charlotte safe.

“You’ve seen our Proclamations.”

“Proclamations?” I snicker. “Is that what you call those cheap, grade B video packages? Please. The most pathetic desert-based terrorist outfit can do better with half the equipment. I still have no idea what the Order stands for. You’re against people making money off the internet…I guess?”

Wyatt arches his brows. He turns to the bespectacled man and nods. I tense up as I see him reach for the switch.

“Wait!” Charlotte yells. Apparently she managed to spit out her gag.

“I’ll stop posting on social media. I’ll leave your Order content on my feed. Please, don’t hurt Grayson.”

Wyatt considers Charlotte. Then he stuffs her gag back in her mouth.

“It’s too late for that.”

My whole body seizes up as electricity arcs through the bedframe into me. It hurts, but I can take it, clamping my jaw shut on a scream to avoid scaring Charlotte. It doesn’t work. She makes a muffled wail and tears well in her eyes.

I hate her watching me being tortured more than actually being tortured.

“Okay, enough,” Wyatt says. The switch turns off, and I sag against the bedframe in spite of myself. I can taste coppery blood in my mouth. I must have bit my tongue while they were shocking me.

“Are you sure he’s suffered enough, Supreme Leader?” asks the bespectacled man.

“Oh, he’ll suffer plenty when we execute Charlotte.”

A flash of rage hisses through me.

“Why Charlotte? There are plenty of other influencers out there, ones with a lot more followers and fame.”

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