Chapter 42 #3
We pass one room where the door isn’t fully latched. It cracks open just a fraction, a mistake someone will be punished for later. I exchange a look with Knox, and he nods. He’ll look into it for me.
Haven’s gaze wanders inside before she can stop herself. But there is nothing to see except for concrete walls and soundproof panels. The soldiers wouldn’t be so neglectful as to give a prisoner a chance to escape. That would result in more than a reprimand. Heads would roll for that error.
This is my least favorite area in the Forge. It brings back memories of when Knox and I had to torture our first prisoner. Knox looked like he’d faint. His face had turned pasty, and sweat had dotted his hairline. I took the lead so we would pass the course.
Haven swallows hard, and I resist the urge to grab her hand and fold it in mine. I cannot let this newfound affection for her cloud my judgment.
Haven is here because she chose to become a soldier and to serve New Foundry. If she wanted to be a perfect little wife, she would be at my house right now. She can stomach this, and if not, then she is not going to make it far in our line of work. Even Knox outgrew his fears.
The Forge is great at beating out one’s weaknesses.
“Toughen up, Warrick,” I say icily. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”
Her shoulders straighten. I expect a retort, but she instead braces herself for what lies ahead.
The prisoner is already waiting when I punch the code in the keypad.
The rebel is young. Bruises circle his eyes, spreading a purple tint across his brown skin. His nose is broken, tilting crookedly and bleeding profusely. A red line drips down his cheeks from a gash.
Ansel spent a few hours with the kid. He’s ready to talk now.
“He is one of our kidnappers,” Knox says to Haven.
Haven’s eyes widen at the revelation.
“What’s his name?” Knox asks.
“Idris,” she says.
My head snaps towards her. Eyes narrowing into thin slits.
“You’re on a first-name basis with a rebel?” I question.
“That’s what they called him,” she says defensively.
“Not as cocky as when we last saw him,” Knox remarks. “You know, he wanted to leave me for dead when shit went left?”
Knox glares at him, but Idris doesn’t flinch.
“I wish I did,” Idris says. “Wouldn’t be listening to you right now.”
I drag out the chair opposite him, letting the metal legs screech on the floor.
I flip it around and sit down, folding my elbows across the top.
His chestnut-brown eyes lock on mine, startlingly clear despite what he’s been through.
He was captured four days ago, and Ansel did not take it easy on him.
Down here, Ansel can let his cruelty run rampant. This is his playground.
“So,” Idris rasps. “The Director sends his pup.”
“I don’t care for small talk,” I say. “Ansel said you know the traitor. Give me their name.”
He smiles, the corner of his mouth twitching where the skin stretches tight from an old cut. His eyes lock on Haven, who is leaning on the wall, arms wrapped protectively around her midriff.
An emotion races across his eyes, something dangerously close to hope.
Does he think she will protect him because she’s softer than Knox and me?
“You want a name?” Idris asks. He juts his chin at Haven. “I’ll tell her. Alone.”
“I’m the one in charge, not her,” I say simply. “You talk, or I take your tongue and your left hand. I hope you are right-handed, because it’ll be the only way you’ll be able to give me my name.”
Haven sucks in a shallow breath.
My jaw grits, and I stand up abruptly. I’ve had enough of her reactions.
She’s holding up worse than Knox during his first torture session.
I didn’t even bring her here when Ansel was breaking him.
From the looks of it, Ansel must have been busy with other prisoners, because the boy isn’t even carved up like the others.
A few nails are missing, blood caking the empty beds, and bruises litter his body, but beyond that, he is in one piece.
I grab Haven's elbow, dragging her to the corner.
“You’re making us look weak,” I hiss. “What’s with the floundering?”
“I’m not floundering,” she snaps, shaking off my hold. “Maybe I should question him, and you should wait outside.”
“Not a chance,” I say. “I don’t trust you.”
She’s acting weird. Ever since I mentioned we were coming to question the rebel, she’s been uneasy, while I suspected her of being dishonest at times, and a rebel sympathizer, I never expected her to actually be working with the Resistance.
Her father is the High General, and she is engaged to me, the future Supreme Director.
It would be reckless. It would be foolish.
“What have you done, Warrick?” I ask, lowering my tone. “Tell me.”
“Nothing!” she says. “Why do you always blame me for everything?”
“Why does he want to speak to you?” I ask.
“Did you look in the mirror?” she asks. “You’re big and menacing. Maybe he wants a softer touch.”
“There is nothing soft about you, Warrick,” I say. “Your teeth are sharper than mine.”
Her lips tilt in a reluctant smile. Her hand falls to my palm, delicate and warm.
“Let me speak to him, Vale,” she says, thumb stroking my knuckles. “I’ll get you your answers.”
I hate that the tension bleeds from my shoulder at her touch.
“You don’t leave this room until you have a name,” I warn.
“I won’t,” she promises.
“I’ll be watching.”
“I expect nothing less.”
I look at Knox and tilt my head in the direction of the door. We enter the viewing room, built behind the glass wall.
Knox leans against the table, fingers digging into a bag of salt chips.
“Love her to death, but Haven is suspicious as hell,” he says.
I ignore his observation. Even if it is a thought that crossed my mind a few minutes ago.
“I think you know it too,” Knox says. “But whatever is going on between you two is clouding your judgment.”
“Are you saying I am willfully ignoring a threat to the regime?” I ask.
“You were grilling her, but the second she smiles and touches you, you relax,” Knox says. “She has you wrapped around her finger.”
“I thought you liked her,” I accuse.
“I do,” Knox says. “She’s amusing, and she’s the only person who gets to make fun of you, which is a bonus. But when we were kidnapped, the rebels had her for a day, who knows what lies they spewed to her. Maybe they convinced her to join them.”
Knox waits a beat before he says.
“Every mission that failed, Haven was on it.”
“Not all,” I say.
I purposely sat her out when we were raiding the settlement. To prove, perhaps to myself, that she was innocent.
“That doesn’t mean I’m wrong,” Knox says.
“She’s a Common,” I say. “The regime does not hurt them. They are safe. She has nothing to fight for.”
This war is between the Gifted and the Untamed. Those that serve the Continent and those that reject it. The Commons had no stake in the war. The Bind was not made for them. It was rare for a Common to side with the Untamed.
“Perhaps, she wants to avenge her mother.”
I cross the space between us to stare into Knox’s eyes. He is a few inches shorter than me, but he doesn’t balk under my gaze.
“Unless you have hard proof, I recommend you shut your mouth,” I growl. “If you put her in harm’s way out of speculation, friend or not, I will kill you.”
Knox straightens, placing down his bag of chips.
“I would never bring this up to anyone but you,” Knox says. And I believe him. Despite his chatty nature, Knox knows when to run his mouth and when to keep shut. “She is my friend too. But it is our job to guide her if she has been led astray.”
“I don’t need to be reminded of my obligations,” I say. “I will handle Haven.”
Knox nods, and I turn my attention back to the room.
Haven will get me my answers, and then she’ll put a bullet in the rebel’s head.
She will prove that she is with us, with me. And Knox will get these foolish notions out of his head about where her loyalty lies.
My fingers tighten into a fist. I won’t lose her, not to the rebels, not to my father, not to anyone who dares come between us.
Because I know now with striking clarity that Haven Warrick has carved a place in my heart, and I will not let any harm befall her.
Not so long as I live.