Page 4 of Bound By Valor

She excused herself to wash her hands and vanished into her bedroom through the adjoining bathroom. When she returned with a large T-shirt, a pang of curiosity struck me. It was a men’s T-shirt. Did she have a boyfriend? Why was I even concerned?

“Here,” she tossed it to me nonchalantly.

“Whose is this?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“Jealous?” she teased with a smile. “It’s mine. I prefer men’s clothing.”

I nodded, feigning indifference, yet a wave of relief washed over me.

Knock it off, Zar!

I quickly changed into the T-shirt she provided,tossing my blood-soaked shirt atop my jacket. When I turned around, I caught Leora watching me intently. Had she observed me changing? I hadn’t exactly hidden myself. A smirk appeared on my face, prompting her to roll her eyes dramatically.

“‘Like what you see?’”she mocked in a deep voice.

“I wasn’t going to say that,” I chuckled.

“Oh please! You know you’re hot. No need to pretend you’re not flirting with your body.”

Her voice echoed in my head as she called me out. I stood there, regretting my forwardness. I was usually more cautious, given the dangerous edges of my job. But there I was, right in her space, unintentionally sending all the wrong—or maybe the right—signals. This wasn’t me, or at least it shouldn’t have been.

I had to clear the air, fast. “Listen, I understand this situation is unusual, but I assure you, I’m not flirting with you with my body—or flirting at all.”

The moment the words left my mouth, her expression dropped to one of embarrassment. I immediately regretted the sharpness in my tone. I hadn’t meant to come across so harshly. But the damage was done.

“Uh, I’ll head to bed. The spare room is that way.”

She gestured and retreated to her bedroom so swiftly, I didn’t get a chance to explain further.

THREE

Leora

He was gone by morning, leaving my door unlocked and a lingering embarrassment in the air after his pointed comment. It had made me second-guess every interaction—had I imagined the flirtation, or was it just wishful thinking?

Stranger equals danger, Leora. Get a grip!

With a sigh, I pulled my French press from the cabinet, my motions mechanical as I set about brewing my morning coffee. Today weighed heavy on me; I was summoned back to the interrogation rooms at the Detention Center. Though I’d be shielded behind reinforced glass, the proximity to condemned criminals on death row, unnerved me.

I poured the steaming coffee into my to-go mug and set out for the center. The building loomed over me as I approached, its stark, imposing structure feeling particularly oppressive under today’s gray skies.

My appointment today was with Delara Boothfrom Blackthorn Security, who was running the interrogation. The scant information I had been given mentioned an inmate tangled in a human trafficking ring, now turned scapegoat by his own crew. No doubt, Ms. Booth intended to exploit his precarious position, perhaps to flip his allegiance. The thought of what awaited made the coffee in my hand feel even colder.

After my usual checkin routine, I found myself sitting behind the glass, alongside Ms. Booth who was agitatedly tapping away on her phone.

“We were told you’d be joining us.” She spoke in her posh British accent without looking up.

“Ah yes, Ms. Booth. I’m the resident psychologist for this Center. Happy to help you through this interrogation.”

I cowered under her scrutinizing gaze, as she spoke again. “We technically don’t need you, but I hear the inmate is pretty unstable. We might need you to calm him down.”

I bristled slightly, correcting her, “My role doesn’t include direct interaction, Ms. Booth. I’m here to observe and analyze body language and truthfulness. Direct contact with the inmate isn’t part of the protocol I was briefed on.”

“Well, aren’t you useless, then?” She scoffed.

“Excuse me?” I countered.

“I said we don’t need you. You’ll be pretty bored giving absolutely no help for this.”

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