Page 30 of No Words
I grab my sat-phone. Jackson picks up on the third ring.
“Hey man, we’re blown. Borsellini is too close. I need backup ready to move.”
A pause. “Timeline?”
“Twenty-four hours, give or take.” I hate clocks. They make men rush, and rushing leaves bodies. “Borsellini’s offering two mil for her alive. Prices turn people stupid. I’ve killed for less, which is exactly why I’m not underestimating anyone now.”
Another pause. “That’s quite the price tag.”
“She’s worth it. Her testimony could bring down their entire operation.”
“I’ll contact Killian. Have a team ready in a couple of hours. Send me coordinates?”
I give him our location, then add, “Don’t approach until I give the signal. They might have scouts already.”
“Understood. Fight or flight?”
I glance toward the bathroom door, thinking of Molly. How far she’s come in the short time we’ve been here. How she trusts me now, depends on me.
“Fight, I’m tired of running.”
“Copy that. Standing by.”
I end the call and set the phone down, my hands steady out of habit, not calm. Control is a posture you hold until the room cooperates. The shower shuts off upstairs. I have maybe three minutes to figure out how to tell the woman I’m supposed to protect that I need to break her.
Molly appears on cue, wrapped in a towel, water droplets still glistening on her shoulders. And for half a second the mission blurs. That’s the danger with honest feeling, it asks questions I don’t have the bandwidth to answer. She takes one look at my face and freezes.
“What’s wrong?”
Her voice, trusting and soft, does something to my chest. What I’m about to ask of her goes against every protective instinct I have. I don’t sugarcoat it.
“They’ve found us. Not exactly, but they’re close. Borsellini’s offering two million for you. Alive.” Her face pales, but she doesn’t panic. Good girl.
“How long do we have?”
“Eighteen hours, maybe less. I’ve called for backup.” She nods, processing.
“We need to talk about security,” I say, all business now. “Borsellini’s interrogation team specializes in breaking people like you.”
“What do they want?”
“Your case files and information about our network. Safe house locations, extraction routes.” I meet her eyes. “If you break, dozens of people die.”
She processes this like she’s building a case. They don’t just want her testimony; they want to dismantle the entire protection network. Classic organized crime strategy: eliminate the infrastructure, not just the immediate threat.
“So what are you saying?”
“We need to find out how much you can endure. Now.”
“You think I’d talk?” A flash of indignation crosses her face.
“Everyone talks, Molly.” I step closer. “The question is how long you can hold out.”
She swallows hard. “How do we prepare for that?”
“I need to know your limits. How you respond when someone tries to break you.” I move closer, studying her face, keeping my voice clinical despite the heat building inside me. “There are two types of interrogation. Pain...” I tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “And pleasure. Pleasure breaks you faster because it slips past your defenses.”
Her pupils widen, lips parting slightly as she realizes what I’m offering. She wets her lips before speaking.
