In a foreign prison, the harsh beam of a flashlight kept swinging in front of Reece's eyes. It was the dead of night, and his once-white shirt was now smeared with dirt, making him look utterly disheveled. The blood on his forehead had dried, leaving a stark reminder of his ordeal.
“Bring him out for more questioning,” one officer ordered.
“He hasn't slept for a full day and night. What if something happens? He’s a public figure, after all,” another officer argued.
“We just need to follow orders. Bring him out,” the first officer insisted, his voice devoid of empathy.
Reece listened silently to their conversation. He'd been stuck here for a day, his wounds untreated and starting to fester. Four hours ago, he noticed he had a fever, but that wasn’t his biggest worry. What really concerned him was the trouble his capture could cause for Sophie back home, especially with the S Corporation at such a crucial point.
As the officers opened the cell door, Reece gathered his strength, speaking as weakly as he could, “I’m in bad shape. I need a hospital.”
Though the officers heard him, they had no plans to act. Their orders were clear: keep interrogating him through the night.
“If something goes wrong, we’re in deep trouble,” muttered one officer standing outside, unable to stand by any longer.
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: Revenge is best served cold