MADDOX~
The Next Morning
Cole looked significantly worse than he had five days ago.
I'd made sure his accommodations were just uncomfortable enough to keep him compliant—cold concrete floor, thin blanket, fluorescent lights that never turned off. Not quite torture, but definitely not the Ritz.
His shoulder was bandaged where I'd shot him, his face pale from blood loss and fear. His hands were zip-tied in front of him, wrists already showing bruises from pulling against the restraints.
He looked up as I entered the holding cell, his eyes widening with a fear that was deeply satisfying.
"Morning, Cole," I said pleasantly, pulling up a metal chair and sitting backward on it, arms folded across the back. "Sleep well? I hear the accommodations are five-star. Concrete chic. Very minimalist."
"Please—" His voice came out hoarse. "Please, I've told you everything—"
