Page 149 of Body and Soul

I found myself in a small, bare room, the walls a featureless expanse of gray concrete. A single metal table stood in the center, its surface gleaming under the harsh glare of the overhead fluorescents.

The mercenaries who had dragged me here were nowhere to be seen, having melted away like ghosts the moment their task was complete. I was alone, the silence pressing in on me from allsides, broken only by the faint buzzing of the lights and the rasp of my own breathing.

My mind raced, adrenaline still surging through my veins from the hectic chaos of our capture. Where were the others? Had they been brought to similar rooms, left to stew in uncertainty and dread? The thought of Eli, of Xander and Xavier, subjected to this same disorienting isolation, made my blood boil and my fists clench.

Time ticked by with agonizing slowness, each second stretching into a small eternity as I waited. For what, I couldn’t even begin to guess. Would it be torture? Interrogation? Or were they planning to kill me?

The door swung open and two figures strode in wearing nondescript black suits, the kind you'd expect to see on government agents or corporate security. But there was something off about them. No badges, no insignia, nothing to identify who they worked for or what agency they represented.

The one on the left, a wiry man with close-cropped gray hair and a face like weathered stone, took up a position in the corner. His eyes, a piercing blue that seemed to look right through me, never wavered as he stood there, arms crossed over his chest. A sentinel, silent and watchful.

His partner, a woman with dark hair pulled back in a severe bun and lips pressed into a thin, unsmiling line, took a seat across from me. She moved with the coiled grace of a predator, each motion deliberate and controlled. When she spoke, her voice was like steel wrapped in silk, smooth and cold.

“State your name,” she demanded, and it wasn't a question. “Date of birth and social security number.”

I met the woman's cold gaze, my jaw clenched. “Something tells me you already have all of that information. I have nothing to say to you.”

Her eyes narrowed, a flicker of annoyance passing over her features before they smoothed back into impassive professionalism. “Mr. Laskin,” she said, each syllable crisp and precise. “You would do well to cooperate. Your situation is... precarious, at best.”

“It’s Doctor,” I corrected her. “Doctor Laskin. And you would do well to tell me where the hell my people are,” I shot back, leaning forward. “What have you done with them?”

The woman leaned back in her chair, regarding me with a cool, assessing gaze. “Your... associates are being processed,” she said, each word measured and deliberate. “As are you. Cooperation will make this much easier for everyone involved.”

A harsh bark of laughter escaped my throat, echoing off the bare concrete walls. “Cooperation,” I repeated, shaking my head. “Is that what you call this? Ambushing us on the road, dragging us here against our will? You'll have to forgive me if I'm not feeling particularlycooperative.”

The woman's lips thinned into a razor-sharp line. She leaned forward, her elbows coming to rest on the cold metal of the table as she steepled her fingers beneath her chin. “Let me make this perfectly clear,DoctorLaskin. You are not in control here. You will answer our questions, or there will be consequences. Consequences that will extend far beyond your own well-being.”

Ice slithered down my spine at the thinly veiled threat in her words. My mind raced, conjuring images of Eli, Xander, and Xavier at the mercy of these cold-eyed operatives. I forced myself to take a slow, steadying breath, schooling my features into a mask of stony indifference. I couldn't let her see how deeply her words had cut, couldn't give her the satisfaction of knowing she'd found a chink in my armor.

“I want to see my people,” I said, my voice flat and hard as tempered steel. “I want proof that they're unharmed. Then, and only then, will I even consider answering your questions.”

The woman's eyes narrowed, her nostrils flaring slightly as she exhaled through her nose.

I met the woman's icy glare, unwavering, even as my heart pounded against my ribs. The silence stretched between us, taut and thrumming with tension, broken only by the faint buzzing of the fluorescent lights overhead.

“I'm afraid that's not how this works,” she said finally. “You are not in a position to be making demands.”

She rose from her chair with a fluid grace, circling the table to stand behind me. I felt the heat of her presence at my back, the hairs on my neck prickling with unease.

“Now,” she continued, her breath ghosting over my ear. “Let's start at the beginning, shall we? Tell me about your childhood. Your birth parents.”

I clenched my jaw, staring resolutely ahead at the featureless gray wall. “I don't see how that's relevant.”

“Everything is relevant here. Every detail, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant, helps paint the full picture.”

She moved back into my line of sight, perching on the edge of the table. The harsh light glinted off the smooth, dark sweep of her hair, casting harsh shadows across the planes of her face.

“Your birth parents,” she repeated. “What were their names?”

Sweat beaded on my forehead, tracing a slow, maddening path down my temple as the temperature in the room inched higher degree by excruciating degree. They were turning up the heat gradually, I realized with a grim sort of detachment, trying to break me down both mentally and physically. It was a tried and true interrogation tactic, one I was all too familiar with from my psychological studies. Ratchet up the discomfort bit by bit, make the subject increasingly desperate for relief, for an end to the torment. Then dangle that relief like bait, yours for the price of confession, of betrayal.

The woman watched me squirm with a glint of sadistic satisfaction in her dark eyes. She thought she was a predator toying with her prey, savoring every flinch and bead of sweat, but she’d made one fatal mistake.

I wasn’t trapped in that god forsaken room with them.

They were trapped in that room with Keres.

The woman leaned in close. “I'll ask one more time. Your birth parents. Give me their names.”

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