Page 96 of Undertow

His lips press into a thin line. After a long pause, he pushes to his feet. “I need to get back.”

My heart clenches in my chest. That’s it, then. Whatever nightmare I just went through will never be mine to own.

McArthur has even stolen my trauma from me.

Merrick rests a large hand on my good shoulder. I glance up, fighting the tears, the revulsion, the horror crushing me right now. He can’t know I’m falling apart. That I’m fuckingbroken.

Maybe I hide it well. Maybe a fellow soldier just takes pity on me.

I think it’s the latter when he squeezes my shoulder and says, “You’ll be okay, kid. Why don’t you take a few days off?”

19

ERASED

You can tell within five minutes if your interrogator is skilled or an amateur.

It only took three to determine Adrian and his crew have no clue what they’re doing. I’m not surprised, given their isolated bubble of criminal enterprise. It’s hard to develop effective torture skills when you only seem to practice on each other.

I squint at Julia through a swollen eye. Just like the last time our gazes locked, she wears a hard, unreadable expression. Watching from the other side of the room, she hasn’t said a word since following Adrian, Mama H, and Tyler into the hidden space at the back of The Shack.

Even that revelation was a disappointment. I’ve never been in a “hidden room” that was so ill-equipped to do what it was designed to do. They don’t even have a chair bolted to the floor.

“We’re going to ask you again. What’s your relationship with the McArthurs?” Adrian growls.

“Or what? Do you actually think you could do anything to me that’s worse than what they will? If they were here, they’d shoot me in the head themselves to keep me from talking.”

“Then helpus,” Mama H says, circling her son to approach me.

She searches my eyes as much as she can through the swelling.

“I don’t know what your endgame is, or how you ended up in this mess, but I can tell you’re a good person, Everett. Tell us what the McArthurs are up to. Let us help you.”

My snort laugh is met with another fist to the ribs from Adrian.

Fuck, that hurt.

I wheeze in a breath, my wrists throbbing from where they hang above my head. The cliché of this entire scenario might be the biggest torture of all. At least Merrick was creative. I was never bored when he was ripping me apart.

“What about McArthur’s link to the RLC? Was that even real or did you make it all up to fuck with us?” Tyler growls.

I can’t blame the guy for being mad about that. My lie did get him a few rough days in here as well.

“The RLC is a real organization. Their headquarters are up in Toronto. You should see?—”

My snarky response is cut off by another blow. This one from Tyler.

Fair.

Adrian’s follow-up probably isn’t.

My breaths are more labored now. Pain flares from a cracked rib and split lip. It feels like every part of my body is throbbing.

But pain doesn’t work the same for me as it does with others.

I was sculpted by it, conditioned to absorb it as strength instead of weakness. All they’re doing is feeding my resolve.

I steer my gaze from Tyler to Adrian and offer a bloody smile. “Your right hook could use some work, friend. Try driving from the hip.”

---