Page 9 of Deadly Obsession

“I’m on it,” I say, slinging one leg over my bike. “And don’t worry about Rose, boss.” A sly grin crosses my face. “We’ll find her.”

I’ve always liked games, and Rose might be the best game I’ve played yet.

CHAPTER4

BRAM

They’re back.

I jump to my feet. My empty stomach gurgles at the smell of Chinese food wafting down the corridor. I’ve begrudgingly eaten the scraps they’ve put in front of me for days, but this smells heavenly, and I’m already salivating like one of Pavlov’s dogs. This isn’t good. If they’re bringing food, they either want to torture me or bargain.

“I’m here to talk, Bram.”

Alaric’s footsteps draw closer. He’s alone, which is unusual. From what I’ve seen, he usually moves with an entourage in tow. Keys clatter on the other side of the door, and he pushes my cell door open.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he warns, placing the bag of food on the floor and tapping the gun in his holster.

I’m too weak to win a fight, even if I wanted to. The light flickers ominously in the corridor. Is this like a death row inmate getting their favourite meal before being put out of their misery?

He unpacks the food carefully. There’s more than enough in the plastic cartons for two people, but I don’t move.

“You might be wondering why I’m here,” he begins.

No fucking shit.I narrow my eyes.How can I be sure the food isn’t poisoned?

“I’m not trying to kill you,” he says, reading my mind.

Death by chow mein wouldn’t be the worst way to go. I approach cautiously, shuffling across the cold floor to grab the nearest warm box and a pair of chopsticks. Alaric does the same.

I wait until he’s taken his first mouthful to begin. It’s plausible he may not have poisoned his food, but I’m too hungry to give a shit or over-analyse.Fuck the chopsticks.I abandon them and pick up the noodles with my hands, being careful not to choke by eating too fast. With a large part of my tongue missing, eating takes more effort and I have to take it easy.

We eat in silence, reminding me of my time in Iraq. A particular memory comes to mind. After an intense day in the field, we took a moment of stillness in the desert at night. Despite the earlier bloodshed, I remember looking up at the stars. They were the most beautiful I’d ever seen. It’s one of the few fond memories I have of my time overseas. Like now, it was a moment of calm in the middle of the storm.

When I was a rookie on my first tour, Alaric was a Lieutenant, but I never saw him until the night I brought Ivy to him. As a soldier, he’d cultivated a ruthless reputation through his ability to make men follow him blindly. Loyalty, dedication, and commitment were everything to him—values he instilled in his Killers Club agents.

“You were a good soldier, Bram,” he says, slurping a mouthful of noodles. “Who thought it’d have come to this?”

I ignore him, savouring the delicious hint of sesame oil, the sweet sauce, and the umami undertones. This may be the best meal I’ve ever tasted.

“Here.” Alaric rolls a can of Coke across the floor. “You’ll need this to wash it down.” He pulls a packet of custard creams out of his jacket pocket. “I got you these for later.”

I drop my chopsticks. My biscuit addiction isn’t a new thing, and the fucker remembered. I narrow my eyes.What do you want?I won’t eat another morsel until I know what he’s planning.

“Come on, don’t be like that,” he teases. “Your food will go cold.”

My jaw hardens.You better start fucking talking, or else.I won’t be manipulated, no matter how good the meal tastes.Get to the point.

“Fine!” He holds up his hands. “I have a proposition.”

I grunt.What can I offer you?

“You’re talented, Bram. You always have been. I recognised it in the army, and I recognise it now,” he says. “We could do with someone around here with your skills. It took our technical team a few days to get past some of your security measures, which I’ve never seen happen before.”

Do I look like a crumpet?He’s buttering me up, and his attempts at flattery won’t work. Compliments don’t detract from how he’s holding me prisoner, running an operation that revolves around deception and turning innocent people into cold-blooded killers. After what happened to Ivy, how can I trust anything that comes from his lying, good-for-nothing mouth?

“Why should you trust the man who cut out your tongue?” He vocalises my thoughts aloud. “I get it. We have a history, but you understand why I did it. It was a business decision, purely for her protection.”

If I’d known what he’d planned to turn her into, I’d never have sought his help. After leaving the army, I got a job in security and ended up as a driver for Spencer Bexley. A week before Spencer tried to kill Ivy, I met with an old friend who told me about Alaric’s private witness protection operation. No one knew the truth.

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