Aysel
“Can I see the lieutenant today?” I asked, changing the subject.
Magnus shifted in his bed, his face tightening with pain as he tried to sit up straighter.
“Yeah, you can.
I’ll take you.”
“You can’t,” I said automatically, gesturing at his bandaged chest.
“You’re injured.
Just tell your men where to lead me, and I’ll…”
“I said I’ll take you.”
His voice was firm, brooking no argument.
I opened my mouth to protest, but the look in his eyes stopped me.
There was something stubborn that told me this wasn’t up for debate.
“Fine,” I said, because arguing seemed pointless.
“But you’re not walking there on your own.”
Magnus laughed, a low sound that quickly turned into a grimace of pain.
“I wasn’t planning to.
You’ll have to help me.”
I moved to his bedside, slipping my arm around his back and taking most of his weight as he slowly, painfully, swung his legs over the edge of the bed.
He was heavy, all solid muscle and broad shoulders, and I had to brace myself to keep us both upright.
He made a sound of discomfort but didn’t complain.
Instead, he nodded toward the door, and I took that as my signal to start moving.
His men deliberately didn’t move to help me, which I think they were doing on purpose.
In fact, they even gave us distance so it would remain just the two of us.
We reached the interrogation room after what felt like an eternity.
It was located in the lower levels of the building, in a part of the territory I hadn’t seen before.
The walls here were bare stone, unadorned and cold, and the air smelled of damp earth and something metallic.
Two guards stood at the door.
They straightened when they saw Magnus, their eyes flicking briefly to me before returning to their Alpha.
“He’s inside,” one of them reported.
“The negotiators have been working on him for hours.
No progress.”
Magnus nodded grimly.
“Open the door.”
The guard pushed the heavy door open, and I helped Magnus through into the room beyond.
The room was narrow, barely wide enough for two chairs and a small table, but what dominated the space was the large window set into the far wall.
It took me a moment to realize what I was looking at.
The window wasn’t glass, it was some kind of one-way surface, dark and reflective on our side, but clearly transparent on the other.
Through it, I could see a man bound to a metal chair.
That must be the lieutenant.
Magnus eased himself into one of the chairs “Sit,” he said, nodding toward the other chair.
“We’ll watch from here.”
I settled into the seat, my gaze fixed on the scene beyond the window.
The lieutenant sat motionless, his head hanging low, his graying hair obscuring his features.
His hands were cuffed to the chair arms and he looked a little bit haggard.
“Has he said anything?” Magnus asked.
As if on cue, the door to the interrogation room opened, and a man entered.
He was middle-aged, with a calm, measured bearing and the kind of face that inspired trust.
He looked like a professional.
The negotiator took a seat across from the lieutenant, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” the negotiator began, his voice carrying faintly through a small speaker mounted near the window.
“I’m here to help you.
You’ve been living in the shadows for years, hiding, running.
That’s no way to live.
But we can change that.”
The lieutenant didn’t move.
“We have resources,” the negotiator continued smoothly.
“Safe houses.
New identities.
You could start over somewhere far from here, somewhere no one knows your name.
All we ask is that you tell us what you know about Kael’s final days.
About what really happened.”
Silence.
“You have my word,” the negotiator pressed, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur, “that you’ll be protected.
We’ll make sure no one comes after you.
You’ll have a new life, a new future.
Isn’t that worth something?”
The lieutenant lifted his head slowly.
His eyes, even through the dim light, were hollow and unreadable.
“I came to mourn my former master,” he said flatly.
“That is all.
I know nothing about what happened back then.
I have nothing to tell you.”
The negotiator tried again, circling back to promises of safety, of comfort, of a life without fear.
The lieutenant responded with the same words, the same flat tone, the same rehearsed denial.
After nearly twenty minutes, the negotiator sighed, stood, and left.
A second negotiator entered almost immediately.
This one was younger, harder-edged.
He didn’t bother with warmth.
He leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and stared at the lieutenant with cold, appraising eyes.
“You’re not stupid,” he said bluntly.
“You know we can’t let you walk out of here without answers.
But we can make this easier or harder.
Right now, you’re choosing harder.”
The lieutenant said nothing.
“Here’s what happens if you keep this up,” the negotiator continued, his voice dropping to a near-whisper.
“We hold you indefinitely.
We dig into your past, every pack you’ve ever been connected to, every person you’ve ever cared about.
We find them, and we apply pressure.
Not to you, to them.
You want to protect someone?
Fine.
But we’ll find out who that someone is.”
It was a threat.
I watched the lieutenant’s face for any crack in his composure.
Nothing.
His expression remained stoic.
“You’re bluffing,” the lieutenant said calmly.
“You don’t have anyone to threaten.
I’ve been alone for years.
Everyone I ever knew is dead.”
The negotiator pressed harder, describing in graphic detail the consequences of continued silence,isolation, deprivation, the slow erosion of hope.
The lieutenant listened without reaction.
It was masterful.
It was also utterly useless.
Magnus had been watching in silence, his jaw tight, his fingers drumming against the armrest of his chair.
Now he spoke, his voice low and tightly controlled.
“You see it, don’t you?”
I turned to him.
“See what?”
“He’s not just stubborn,” Magnus said, his eyes still fixed on the lieutenant through the window.
“He’s trained.
Someone prepared him for this.
Every question, every tactic…he has a response ready.
It’s like watching a machine repeat the same recording over and over.”
I looked back at the lieutenant.
Magnus was right.
There was no hesitation, no variation, no moment of genuine human uncertainty.
It was as if the lieutenant had been drilled for this exact scenario, taught exactly what to say and how to say it, regardless of what was thrown at him.
“Someone gave him instructions,” I said slowly.
“Before he ever came here.
Someone knew he might be captured and interrogated.”
Magnus nodded grimly.
“The question is who.”
But even as he said it, I saw the realization dawn in his eyes.
His face went pale, then flushed with sudden burst of fury.
“Kael,” he said bitterly.
“It had to be Kael.
Even after everything, he was still thinking to make sure she was protected.”
By she, did he mean Celestine?
It had to be her.
Kael had doted on Celestine before he died.
I turned back to the window, studying the lieutenant with fresh eyes.
If Kael had given him instructions, what were those instructions?
Why hadn’t the lieutenant simply killed himself after Kael’s death, or fled to the farthest corner of the continent?
He was fiercely loyal, that much was obvious.
A man that loyal, with nothing left to live for, would have either followed his master into death or disappeared completely.
But he hadn’t done either.
He had stayed.
He had hidden nearby, within reach of the packs that had destroyed everything he loved.
He hadn’t run, and he hadn’t ended his own life.
Which meant he had a reason to stay.
A purpose.
Something Kael had tasked him with and it was important enough to keep him alive and endure years of solitude and fear.
I took a breath.
It felt reckless, even to me.
But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was right.
“Magnus.” I called and he turned to me.
“Let me try,” I said.