Page 84 of Stolen Faith

Barry began to scream, a high, thin sound.

Rowan took Barry’s knife from the sheath on his calf and cut through the yarn binding his left wrist.

The moment his wrist was free, Barry shoved at Rowan, a frantic slapping of hands. Rowan caught his wrist.

Barry looked at Devon, pleading with muffled words.

Rowan trapped Barry’s wrist with his left arm.

Barry leaned toward Devon, tears sliding down his cheeks.

Rowan forced Barry’s arm out straight.

“What was that?” Devon took a step closer, bending down. “Did you say something?”

Rowan looked at Devon. Rowan had done a few ops that weren’t exactly black, but they were a dark gray, and the people issuing orders had sounded, and acted, just like this. Rowan was glad he’d turned down an offer to apply to the Special Activities Center.

“I can’t hear you.” Devon frowned at Barry. “I’d take the gag out, but you’re going to scream.”

Barry shook his head.

Devon looked over, and Rowan pressed his right forearm against Barry’s elbow, forcing the arm to hyperextend slightly.

Barry shook his head harder.

“Hmm. I’m giving you a chance,” Devon said. “I’m trusting you. Can I trust you?”

Barry nodded, still crying.

Devon pulled the gag out of Barry’s mouth.

“Please, please, please,” the other man begged. “Don’t hurt me.”

The way you hurt us? The way you tortured my fiancés?

Rowan applied pressure to the elbow. Barry made a sound of pain.

Devon shot Rowan a look, and he stopped.

“Barry, I need you to be a bit quieter.” Devon bent over conspiratorially, pain tightening the corners of his eyes. “I know there’s a guard. I know it’s tempting to think you can attract their attention. But you see, even if you do, what do you think will happen? You’ll still be a hostage, stuck in here with us, and we could do things to you while we negotiate. I think it’s best we keep this between us, don’t you?”

Devon’s quiet, reasonable words sent a chill down Rowan’s back.

“I…I can do that,” Barry whispered.

Devon smiled. “That’s great. I knew you could.” He straightened, then sat on one of the low kid-sized desks. “Barry, listen, you see my problem, right?” Devon asked.

Barry nodded, breath hiccupping as he sobbed quietly.

“I’m injured. We’re all injured. We need information, we need to get out of here, and we know you’re the man who’s going to make that happen for us.”

“I c-can. I can do that. I’ll get you out.”

“That’s great, man, I love to hear that. But I’m worried.” Devon frowned, shaking his head. “I’m worried maybe you’ll use your one remaining functioning arm to call for help, or hit us, or shoot us.”

“I won’t!”

“Too loud, Barry.” Devon looked at Rowan.

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