The man turns his head toward the bars. "Not talking!" he shouts. "Plan B." He looks back over at me and by the way his eyes curve, I get the feeling he's smiling beneath his face cover. "You're going to wish you went with Plan A." He'll probably be saying that about Plan C, D, E, and F too. I stare right into his eyes, enduring the dry pain from not blinking in this dust-covered hole.
The men outside of the hall are talking to each other, and I hear a mess of uneven footsteps growing closer to us. It almost feels as if I’m numb to this, like I'm on the outside looking in. I should be feeling fear and whatever else they're trying to force me to endure, but for so long I have felt dead living in this body, alone in a world where I can't be truthful with even myself. They're doing me a favor, and I should be thanking them.
The bars disjoin and half of the shuffling feet continue inside the confined space.
Everything has been tolerable up until this point. I've managed to conceal emotional distress or any other type of mental inhibitions, but at the moment, everything I have felt in the last three years is filling me from the tips of my toes up to my head.
Axel stands before me in a pair of handcuffs, bloody, bruised, an eye swollen shut, but he’s as still and silent as I am. My heart is pounding, aching, and shattering. They can't see it in my eyes, though. I won't let them. They think he's my weakness.
He is my weakness.
Bastard. This is my fault.
The man standing next to Axel is dressed the same as the interrogator who has been keeping me company, except the man next to Axel has an eight-inch combat knife with the blade pressed against Axel's throat.
"Let's try this again," the interrogator in the chair, says to me.
"What is your name?" I hold my gaze on Axel instead of the interrogator. I'm at a loss for understanding now, especially as to what side he was on—if there are multiple sides. I had the idea that it was just me on my own side, fighting against all these assholes.
"Isabelle Hammel," I tell them. I won't be the reason he's killed. Murder was never supposed to be a part of this fucking development. I didn't know what I was learning or that I was being bred to use against people. I had an interest in the psychological facets of the human brain, and now it's being used against me.
Axel mouths the word, "Stop."
I involuntarily shake my head. Whether he has been honest with me, he fed me and kept me safe these last few weeks, and the least I can do is spare his life for shit I'm responsible for.
"Were you practicing beneath Dr. Mason Phillips?" the man continues.
The color in Axel's face fades into a pale hue. "Yes," I reply.
The man with the knife pulls out a piece of paper and pen from his back pocket and hands it over to the man in the chair. "Write down the password to the file."
Everett has the SD card. He ripped them off me the other day. He thought I didn’t notice. He thought if I did, I’d care.
Axel closes his eye that isn't already swollen shut. I feel like we're coming to an end here, and this breach of data is going to cause a wave of terrorism I was warned of.
They may have Everett too. I could buy time and give them the wrong password, but I know what the repercussions will be when they find out I've lied.
I take the paper and pen from his hand, debating between selfishness or selflessness, even after I have given up my life for a reason I never asked for.
My stomach gnarls with pain, but I've made my decision, and I think it's one I won’t have to live with for too long.
28
Axel
I want to say so many things to Isabelle right now, all of which would be the truth. However, I know if I open my mouth, the metal blade pressed against my neck will slide right through me with little effort.
She doesn't understand.
The asshole trying his hand with her thinks he's playing a game of roulette, and he is, but like him, no one knows the outcome here.
"Here's the deal," the man in the chair says. "You get the correct key code from her, and you'll be let go, but she'll be taken care of. If she offers it up on her own, she'll be let go, and you'll be taken care of. Unfortunately, there aren't two winners in this case, so figure it out between the both of you."
I want to ask him what happens when neither of us says a word, but I have an assumption. Though, killing one or both of us won't get them any further.
"Set the clock," he says while standing from his chair. The men open the metal gate and lock us inside.
Isabelle is staring through me, and I can only imagine what thoughts are going through her head. I imagine she doesn't trust me for obvious reasons, but she can also see the damage done to my face. If I were her, I'd be figuring it was a setup so she'll probably want me to take the fall, rather than herself.
She takes a few steps forward, reaching out for my face. The tips of her soft fingers sweep against a bruise that I can feel deep inside. "Is everything a lie?" she asks softly.
I answer immediately, needing her to know I didn't have to think, needing her to see I can look her in the eyes while saying "No."
"You can give them the key code," she says. "I don't want to live like this anymore."
"No, this is insane. They'll still kill both of us. Don't give that information up, no matter what. Do you understand?" I ask her.
That guy was a moron. Either I get the information from her or she says it out loud on her own? Either way, it's coming out of her mouth, so they can play with their words, but they aren't getting this.
"Where's the SD card?" I ask out into the dark hall.
"It's here," one of them says.
"Show me," I demand.
They laugh, as I expected.
"Harley, give them the code," I tell her.
"Harley?" one asks.
I push her against the wall with force and bring my cuffed hands up to her neck. I arch my neck and whisper into her ear. "You got a bobby pin on you?"
She exhales a small sigh, enough for me to hear the positive inflection. I reach behind her head, causing the cuffs to press against her throat as I retrieve a pin from the back of her hair.
"Are you going to say it?" I hiss.
"No," she breathes.
"No?" I question.
"Yes," she replies.
"Good," I tell her.
"No," she continues.
Her eyebrow perks with a slight twitch, and I know what she's doing.
"Isabelle, the code," I say.
"Okay," she says. Her eyelashes bat furiously, making her look completely insane. "Yes."
The footsteps from the men outside of the cell echo as they come closer.
"The code," I remind her.
"Code," she says.
I pull my hands away from her neck and move them up to her cheeks, using a visible force that should only be seen and not felt.
"What is it?” I press.
She spits in my eyes and instinctually, I want to squeeze her face a little harder, but I fucking love this woman. I wipe my face off on my sleeve. "Your code," she says.
"What the hell is she doing?” one of the men yells in.
"You know she ain’t right," I yell out to them. "Shit, what the hell are you expecting?"
"Get the damn code," I hear from them.
"Code," she says again.
"They're playing with us," I hear another one of the men say.
"Do you hear that?" Isabelle asks me.
I nod. "No,” I respond. She's up to something.
"Ow," she groans then whimpers as if she were in pain. "Ow, stop it. Stop it, stop it!"
I'm glad I'm the only one who can look at her with a hint of a smile. Learning the techniques in her brain turns me on, despite knowing there's a good chance we aren't getting the hell out of here.
"Stop it, what are you doing? Why are you doing this to me?" She's screaming and wrenching her fingers through her hair. Her face is turning a deep shade of red, and she falls to her knees holding her ears. "Why?" She continues to cry out. "Make it stop! Please, God, make it stop. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I can't take it anymore. Why? Why? Please!"
Holy shit. She's either for real or deserves a goddamn Emmy. "Isabelle, what's … "
"Fuck off. Fuck you, Axel. Fuck you, Everett. Fuck you, Mason. Fuck everyone. I don't give a shit about a damn code, or a fucking interrogation weapon. Go kill everyone, just kill me first. Kill me, you hear, you fucking assholes. Kill me."