Page 149 of Can You Take It?

Just then, the door opens and Noah steps in. I have to tamp down the urge to keep going at Victor. I quickly shift gears, trying to cool the rage that’s boiling inside me. Noah doesn’t need to know the full extent of this shitshow.

“Hey,” Noah says, nodding at me before settling into the chair beside me.

Victor’s eyes flick to Noah, and that condescending smirk never leaves his face. “Ah, the sidekick,” he sneers. “What’s the matter, Agent? Can’t handle this on your own? Had to call in backup?”

I don’t answer. I know exactly what he’s trying to do—get under my skin, push me to the edge until I snap and do something reckless, something that’ll land me under suspension. Worst-case scenario? I’ll be pulled from the case altogether, and then I won’t have enough intel to protect Izel. He’s baiting me, and if I lose control, he wins.

“We’re here to take your statement,” I say, placing the recorder on the table.

Victor leans back in his chair, looking almost bored. “Of course, where do you want me to start?”

“Let’s talk about Ava. Why did you imprison her?”

“Ava was a brat. She needed discipline. If I hadn’t kept her locked up, she would have turned into a whore for anyone who showed her attention.”

“You kept her locked up for years,” I say. “How could you justify that?”

“It was for her own good. Someone had to teach her what happens to women who don’t know their place.” He pauses, reaching for the water on the table. “Women like her… they need a firm hand. A lesson in respect.”

The way he speaks, with such pride and conviction, makes my blood boil. “And what about Izel?”

“Izel… she was always defiant, even as a kid. Always had that fire in her eyes, that stubborn streak. She thought she could outsmart me, thought she was better than me.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “I had to break her spirit.”

My knuckles tighten against the table, but I keep my expression neutral, even as every word he says twists the rage inside me.

“It started when she turned eight. That’s when I knew she had to be put in her place. So I touched her.” He pauses, his lips curling into a slow, twisted smile. “I forced her to touch me too, made sure she knew exactly who was in control. Every tear that rolled down her face, every time she begged for it to stop, it was just proof of how much she needed me. She didn’t understand yet, but I was saving her.”

Victor’s voice drops lower, almost like he’s reliving it. “I used to lock her in a little cage, no bigger than a dog kennel. Left her there for days sometimes. No food, barely any water. And when she screamed for help? I’d beat her. Hard. Until she learned to keep her mouth shut. Until shecomplied. It was the only way to make her understand her place. She had to know that without me, she was nothing. Hell, she'd be dead without my discipline.”

I can’t hold back anymore. My hand slams against the table. Victor jumps slightly but quickly regains his composure.

“You think that justifies what you did?” Noah probes.

“It made her strong. You’ll see. She’s not as innocent as she looks. She’s got darkness in her. I put it there.”

Every word he says makes me want to reach across the table and rip his throat out. I was trained to be civil with criminals, but right now, I can’t remember why. Civility feels like a distant, absurd concept.

I might do just that. So, I stand up abruptly, my chair scraping against the floor. “We’re done here,” I growl.

As I storm out of the interrogation room, Noah falls into step beside me. “That guy is something else,” he mutters, shaking his head.

“Yeah,” I reply tersely. “Has Luna briefed Ava?”

Noah nods. “Yeah, she’s ready for you.”

I take a deep breath, heading towards the next interrogation room. Ava is waiting inside. As I walk in, she looks up, her eyes wide with worry. “How’s Izel?” she asks immediately.

“She’s fine,” I assure her, trying to sound as calm and confident as possible. “She’s safe now. Let’s focus on getting your statement.”

She nods, taking a deep breath. “Alright. Where do you want me to start?”

“From the beginning,” I say, settling into the chair across from her. “Tell me everything.”

Ava looks down at her hands, taking a moment to collect herself before she begins. “It started when my father asked me to help him with something in the basement. I didn’t think much of it at the time. He’d always been... persuasive. Coaxing me into doing things.”

“Persuasive how?” I ask, leaning forward.

“He had a way with words,” she says softly. “He made it sound like it was important, like he needed me. But once I was in the basement, everything changed. He locked me in. The basement was soundproof. I screamed, I tried to escape, but nothing worked.”

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