Chapter 14 - The Interrogation
The stealth boat cut through the pitch-black waves, leaving the chaotic gunfire of the luxury yacht far behind us. Marcus drove with practiced precision while Clara and I secured the Russian lieutenant to a metal support beam in the cabin using heavy zip ties.
I glared at Marcus, my finger resting dangerously close to the trigger of my freshly reloaded weapon.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn't throw you overboard right now, Marcus,” I threatened. The memory of his betrayal with the Volkovs was still a raw, bleeding wound in my mind.
Marcus kept his eyes on the digital compass. “Because I’m the only one who knows how your father operates. When the Volkovs betrayed me, Dominic Hale reached out. He offered me my old job back if I helped him kill you.”
“And you refused?” Clara asked skeptically, crossing her arms.
“I made a terrible mistake once because of greed,” Marcus replied softly. “But Dominic is a different kind of monster. He doesn't want to run the city; he wants to burn it to the ground and rule the ashes. I came to get you off that boat to prove my loyalty. I want to help you end him.”
I didn't trust him completely, but I needed his intel. I turned my attention back to our Russian prisoner. The man was sneering, trying to project strength despite being tied up and bleeding.
“Dominic will skin you alive,” the lieutenant spat. “His army is growing every day. The old guard is flocking back to him. They respect true power, not a soft boy who married his maid.”
Clara’s expression didn't change, but her eyes darkened with a terrifying coldness. She walked slowly over to a medical kit mounted on the wall of the boat and pulled out a small, glass vial of clear liquid and a syringe.
“Do you know what this is?” Clara asked, tapping the glass. “It’s a specialized adrenaline compound. We use it to keep trauma victims conscious during emergency surgery without anesthesia. It heightens every nerve ending in the body.”
The Russian’s arrogant sneer began to falter.
“I am not a soft boy’s wife,” Clara whispered, driving the needle directly into the man’s thigh and pushing the plunger down. “I am the daughter of Arthur Reed, and I was trained to extract secrets from men much stronger than you.”
Within seconds, the man’s eyes dilated wildly. His breathing became ragged as the compound flooded his system, putting his body into an extreme state of hyper-awareness.
Clara picked up a standard flare gun from the emergency supplies. She broke it open, removed the incendiary shell, and calmly poured a tiny pinch of the highly flammable magnesium powder onto the Russian’s bare forearm.
“Where is Dominic Hale?” she asked softly.
The man clenched his jaw and refused to speak. Clara struck a match and dropped it onto his arm. The powder ignited with a blinding white flash, burning a painful hole into his skin. Because of the adrenaline, the man screamed so loudly it echoed over the roaring engine of the boat.
“Next time, I pour the whole shell onto your chest,” Clara promised, her voice devoid of any emotion.
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“The ironworks!” the man shrieked, tears streaming down his face. “The abandoned ironworks on the edge of the river! He has a fortress down there in the old smelting tunnels!”
I looked at Clara, utterly amazed by the fierce, merciless queen I had married.
