Jules was bound to a steel chair welded to the floor. His head hung low, and he appeared to be asleep or, more likely, unconscious. Thomas's heart sank at the sight of his friend. If they had gone to such lengths even to capture a friend of his, his family was likely already in their grasp. The dark-haired man flashed Thomas a slick smile as his beady black eyes observed him.
Thomas’s demeanor shifted. His shoulders slumped, his head bowed slightly, and his arms fell limp at his sides. To the untrained eye, he might’ve seemed resigned, perhaps even defeated. To the more observant, however, Thomas’s muscles were tensed, and his gaze was sharply focused as he scanned the room—a wolf in sheep's clothing.
With the time bought by his deceptively submissive stance, he was thinking furiously. Various scenarios flashed across his mind, most of them quickly rejected before they could fully form. Could he grab Jules and fight his way out? No, he still needed to find his family. Could he take the man in front of him hostage? No, the guy was likely just a subordinate and too disposable to leverage. Could he…
“Well?” the man interrupted, “Time’s up.”
Crap.
With little time to think, Thomas shook his head to clear his thoughts. There was only one thing he could do.
“What do you want from me?” Thomas asked. He let his inner turmoil seep into his voice, keeping up the facade of resignation. The smirking adversary lounged in his chair across the room, an almost serpentine smile present on his face.
"You don’t need to pretend to be so helpless, Thomas.” the man said, his voice smooth and taunting. “A typical soldier might cower in fear, but you? No, we know better.”
A tense silence filled the room, the lull in conversation broken only by the man’s smile, which took on a cruel edge.
“You see. We did some… digging on your background, my veteran friend, and you are much, much more than just some typical soldier.”
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