Defenseless (Salvation, #5)(73)
“Nice to see you again.” Agent Smith bites into a cheeseburger.
I hope he chokes on it.
“It’s a great day to be alive, huh?” He tosses some fries in his mouth and washes it all down with a milkshake.
I have no concept of time. It could be a day, a week, or a month since I was brought here, and I wouldn’t know. All I can see is black. No light, no air, just complete confinement, it’s like being buried alive. But I saw her. Every time I felt alone, she was with me. Telling me she was okay and that I had to keep going. It’s funny, in all my years of training, I never had something to hold on to. Someone or something that I used to get me through. I have that now, and I lost her.
That I’m in this room, not bound, not being beaten, tells me they won. However, they’ll never overtake me. I don’t care if they wave that goddamn file in my face, I’ll never give up—for her.
When all you have is time with your own thoughts, you realize what’s important. You see your life for what it was, how it could’ve been—the mistakes, and the promises if you survive. People are important, not things or possessions. I’ll be a better man, brother, son, and someday . . . husband. I’ll stop fighting everyone and everything. I won’t take the little time we have for granted, because this will all end one day. My days are numbered; I see that now. Right now, all I have is faith that I’ll get the chance to right my wrongs.
“Why am I here now?”
He takes another bite and my mouth waters. I’m f*cking starving. “Hungry?”
“I’m on a diet.”
The stupid bastard laughs. “This will be your last chance. Your body is shutting down. There’s no fight left in your eyes, Mark. This could all be over. I could get you some food, a shower, clean clothes. All I need is for you to help me.”
“I’d rather die. You should know, when I make it through this, I plan to kill each and every last one of you.”
“You couldn’t fight your way out of a paper bag at this point. But I appreciate your tenacity. You would’ve made a fantastic operative.” He stands and places his gun on the table with his hand hovering over it. “I’m sorry it’ll all end like this. I liked you, but my son didn’t.”
Son? What the ever-loving hell is going on? “Who the hell is your son, and what does any of this have to do with a file or me?” I’m not sure if I’m hallucinating this entire situation, but I find any ounce of strength I have left. I need that gun. I have to end this. Then he’ll see how it feels to be at my mercy.
As if the prick can read my thoughts, he leans back.
“I could tell you, but that would ruin the fun.” We stare at each other for a beat. “I hope you see your girlfriend in hell, since I killed her in this very chair not even an hour ago. She pleaded for your life, but I think it’s only fair you’re reunited”
My heart stops. She can’t be dead. I couldn’t have failed her.
He lifts the gun.
I’ve been in this situation before, but this time it’s different. The world becomes a little sharper. Nothing slows, instead everything comes into focus. I see her clear as day. Her blue eyes, her dark brown hair, the way her face always looks as if she’s ready to take on the world. My Charisma. I knew she would own me the minute I laid eyes on her. There was nothing tying us together, but I felt secured. No matter what, she’ll be the last name I utter, and the last thing I see when I close my eyes. But that moment isn’t now. He ripped her away from me, and I’m going to end him. I’m going to make him pay for ever hurting her.
I fought because I thought she was alive. If she’s gone . . . I’ll follow her.
Rage fills me.
The need to destroy him overpowers any self-preservation I have left. I won’t let them take me like this. I will never surrender.
Before I can think, I’m rushing toward him as though I’m a rabid animal. I’ll go down fighting. I’ll draw blood because he ruined the reason I exist. She’s the air I breathe, the reason my heart beats, and I never got to tell her.
Shock registers in his eyes before I lunge for the gun. “You son of a bitch!” I shout as my hand connects with the barrel.
My hands move to grab the gun. I battle with all I have. Somehow, I manage to get it out of my face. I’m weak and he pushes me off easily. I step back with my arms lifted. “Look, I don’t know where the hell the file is. I’ve been beaten, starved, beaten again. Don’t you think by this point you’d have the file?”
“What makes you think she didn’t tell us everything?” His arm raises again as he takes the sight. I’m about to die at the hands of the CIA.
“Then why kill me?” I ask. I need to keep him talking.
I shuffle to the right with my hands still up in the air. We circle as I think of a way to extend this conversation. His arm drops slightly and relief seeps through. No, f*ck that. I can’t afford relief. This guy will kill me the second he has a chance. My legs keep going, but I’m so tired. I don’t know how long I can keep this up.
“Because you know too much. You didn’t really think you’d make it out of here, did you? Let’s be real. You know what I look like, and you’ve probably pieced together who I am. But then, you still don’t know who is behind all of your misfortunes. Such a shame.”