Ch.52: The Refusal

I watched the screen. Julian was looking at the camera, but I knew he wasn't seeing me. He was seeing the mercenaries around him. He was seeing the end.

His eyes weren't pleading. They were defying. He was telling me not to do it.

"He's running out of time," Sterling said, tapping the tablet. "And so are you."

I looked at the stylus in my hand. It was heavy, silver, expensive.

"If I sign," I said, my voice barely a whisper, "he goes free. Right now."

"Of course," Sterling said. "I'm a man of my word."

I lowered the pen to the screen. The tip hovered over the digital line.

Sterling leaned in, his eyes hungry. He wanted this. He needed this. It wasn't just about the money. It was about the victory. The total submission.

I pressed the pen down.

But I didn't sign my name.

I drove the stylus into the back of Sterling's hand.

He screamed, a high, shocking sound. He jerked back, but the pen was pinned through his palm, into the table.

I didn't stop. I headbutted him. Hard.

My forehead connected with his nose. Cartilage crunched. Blood sprayed.

Sterling fell back, his chair toppling over.

"You bitch!" he howled, clutching his face.

I scrambled up, dragging the heavy metal chair with me.

"Guards!" Sterling shouted. "Get in here!"

The door burst open. Two men rushed in.

I swung the chair. It was awkward, heavy, but the momentum was enough. The metal legs caught the first guard in the throat. He went down, choking.

The second guard drew his weapon.

I didn't have time to think. I threw myself at him, driving my shoulder into his gut. We crashed into the wall. The gun went off, the bullet sparking against the concrete ceiling.

He was stronger than me. He shoved me back, raising the gun again.

But Sterling was there.

"Don't shoot her!" he screamed, struggling to his feet, blood pouring from his nose. "I need her alive to sign the damn confession!"

The guard hesitated.

I used that second. I kicked the guard in the knee. He buckled.

I ran for the door.

But Sterling was faster than he looked. He grabbed my hair, yanking me back.

"You think you can beat me?" he hissed, his breath hot and coppery on my neck. "You're nothing! You're a failed lawyer from the slums!"

I clawed at his face, my nails digging into his skin.

"I'm the person who's going to burn you down," I spat.

I bit his hand. Hard. Until I tasted blood.

He let go, cursing.

I stumbled into the hallway. Alarms were blaring. Red lights strobed.

I didn't know where I was going. I just ran.

"Seal the building!" Sterling's voice boomed over the intercom. "Lock it down! No one leaves!"

Heavy blast doors began to descend at the end of the corridor.

I sprinted. My lungs burned. My feet slipped on the polished floor.

I dove.

The door slammed shut inches from my face.

I was trapped.

I stood up, panting. I was in a loading bay. Crates stacked high.

But I wasn't alone.

Three guards stood by the exit. They raised their weapons.

"Nowhere to go, Vance," one of them sneered.

I backed up until I hit a crate. I looked around for a weapon. A crowbar. A wrench. Anything.

Nothing.

The guards advanced.

"Mr. Sterling wants you back in the chair," the lead guard said. "And this time, he says we can break a few fingers to help you hold the pen."

I looked at them. Then I looked at the security camera in the corner. The red light was blinking.

I smiled. It was a grim, bloody smile.

"Tell him to come get me himself," I said.

The guards rushed me.

I didn't fight. I didn't run.

I let them take me.

They dragged me back to the room. Back to the chair.

Sterling was waiting. His hand was bandaged. His nose was reset, but swollen. His suit was ruined.

He looked at me with a hatred so pure it was almost beautiful.

"You made a mistake," he said softly.

"No," I said, spitting blood onto his expensive shoes. "I made a choice."

He picked up the tablet. He held it up.

On the screen, the feed from the power station was still live.

But Julian wasn't on his knees anymore.

The mercenaries were dead. Lying in the dirt.

And Julian was gone.

Sterling stared at the screen. His face went pale.

"Where is he?" he whispered.

"He's coming for you," I said. "And he's not alone."

Sterling backhanded me. My head snapped back. The world spun.

"Sign the confession," he screamed, shoving the tablet into my face.

I looked at him. Through the pain, through the fear, I felt a surge of triumph.

I hadn't escaped. I was still bound. I was still bleeding.

But I had bought Julian five minutes. And five minutes was all he needed.

"Go to hell," I whispered.

Sterling raised his hand to hit me again.

"I'd rather die in prison than live as his slave."