Chapter 7 - The Interrogation Room Next Door
In the adjacent room, Tessa was faring no better.
Unlike her sister, Tessa wasn't shouting. She sat slumped over the aluminum table, staring blankly at her handcuffed wrists, her chest heaving with shallow, rapid breaths.
The door opened, and I walked in, wearing my full Class-A military uniform, complete with service ribbons and senior insignia. I didn't sit down. I stood at the head of the table, looking down at the woman who had thought a metal bar and a few lies could break an eight-year-old child and intimidate an Army officer.
Tessa slowly raised her head. When she saw me standing there—not as a desk clerk, not as an outcast relative, but as a senior combat logistics officer commanding federal assets—her eyes widened in sheer, unadulterated horror.
“N-Nia...” Tessa whispered, shrinking back against the chair. “Please... we’re family. We share blood. You can’t let them do this to us. Think of the scandal! Think of what the community will say!”
“You didn't think about the community when you picked up that metal bar, Tessa,” I said, my voice quiet, steady, and utterly devoid of mercy. “You didn't think about family when you took turns beating an eight-year-old child because she refused to lie for your corporate greed.”
“We were just... we were just trying to secure Ryan’s custody appeal!” Tessa sobbed, squeezing her eyes shut as tears finally spilled down her cheeks. “It got out of hand! It was supposed to be a lesson!”
“A lesson,” I repeated, leaning down until my face was inches from hers. “You broke eleven bones in a little girl's body. And then you told her that when I came back, you’d deal with me too.”
Tessa trembled violently, unable to meet my gaze.
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“Well, I’m here, Tessa,” I whispered. “And the only thing you’re going to be dealing with for the next twenty years is a federal penitentiary cellblock.”
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