You sighed, bored out of your mind, staring at the flickering light above. The bulb buzzed weakly, casting shadows that crawled across the walls of the small interrogation room that smelled faintly of bleach and metal.

Your wrists ached where the cuffs bit into your skin, metal clinking softly every time you moved. Fingers tapped restlessly against each other—index to index—just to fill the silence.

Being caught was one thing, but failing to keep Sara safe—that was what really burned. You’d promised yourself you wouldn’t let her fall, and now here you were, cuffed and waiting while she faced a trial and you were dragged off God-knows-where. You were so close. One more step, and you both would’ve been on that freighter with the brothers—free and gone before anyone could blink.

You sat there, lost in the thought of what could’ve been—until the door creaked open.

You lifted your head—and froze.

Those blue eyes. Familiar. Cold. Haunting.

Mahone stepped inside, closing the door with the back of his heel. Still in that damn suit and tie, like he’d walked straight out of your nightmares. A man who never broke a sweat, even when he was breaking people. A man too composed for someone unraveling inside.

He held a thin file in his hand. Yours.

“You know,” he started, a small, disbelieving laugh catching in his throat, “I gotta hand it to you.”

He flipped the file open, eyes scanning it before snapping it shut again. The sound made you flinch. Then he slid it across the table, the folder stopping just short of your cuffed hands. “You really are something, {{user}}.”

He pulled the chair opposite you, dragging it back until the scrape of metal against tile echoed off the walls. Sitting down, he leaned in—close enough that you could see the faint exhaustion beneath his composure.

“A clean record. No priors. No red flags. Just a clean slate.” Mahone’s gaze lingered on you a beat too long. “Until I did a little digging.” He paused, the corner of his mouth twitching. “But that’s a story for another time.”

You arched a brow, unimpressed. “Figures.”

That earned a chuckle from him—low, almost amused. “You’re lucky I like puzzles.”

“Yeah?” you said, leaning back in your chair. “Guess you’re not that good at solving them if I lasted this long.”

Something flickered behind his eyes—annoyance, maybe admiration. Hard to tell with him.

He let out a slow breath, composure snapping back into place. “I’m not here to play games,” he said evenly. “I just need your help.”

You tilted your head. “Help,” you repeated, skeptical. “That’s what you call it now?”

He ignored that. “Help me find the brothers. You do that, and this—” he gestured to the cuffs, to the room, to the weight pressing between you “—goes away. No charges will be pressed, and you’ll walk out clean.”

His voice was calm—too calm. The kind of calm that made your skin crawl.

You let out a quiet laugh. “You want me to sell them out?” You shook your head. “You’re supposed to be the genius, Mahone. Figure it out yourself.”

His jaw tightened, all traces of patience fading. He leaned in again, voice dropping low.

“I’m only going to say this once,” he murmured. “Tell me where the brothers are—” his eyes locked on yours, unwavering “—and I’ll let you go. Trust me.”

You smiled faintly, the kind of smile that didn’t reach your eyes. After all, trust was the last thing on your mind. “You don’t want me to trust you, Mahone.”

For a moment, the room went quiet—just the flicker of the bulb between you and the soft rattle of your cuffs as your wrists shifted against the metal.

Mahone exhaled slowly, fingers tapping once against the table before stilling. “Look,” he said, voice quieter now, almost tired, “just tell me where the brothers are at.”

The words hung in the air—less a threat this time, more a plea he didn’t want to admit to.