Chapter 36: The Interrogation (Liam POV)

The two suited men grabbed me, their hands rough, pulling me from the alley. My heart pounded, my legs kicking, but they were strong, too strong. “Graham wants a word,” one had said, his voice low and mean, and now I was stuck, my hands pinned as they shoved me toward a black car—not the SUV, something smaller, quieter. My stomach twisted, the flash drive digging into my fist. Nate—he was out there, running with the folder, and I couldn’t let them get this.

They pushed me into the back seat, the doors locking fast. My breath came quick, my hands shaking as the car started, tires humming on the road. I tried to think, tried to plan, but my mind was on Nate, his face when we split: “Meet me at the warehouse.” Two hours—he’d be waiting, counting on me. I’d messed up before, left him to the feds, but not this time. I had to get out, get back to him.

The car stopped after a few minutes, the men pulling me out into a parking lot—dark, empty, some fancy building ahead. My legs wobbled as they dragged me inside, the lobby sleek with glass and steel, lights bright. No one else around, just us, their shoes clicking loud on the floor. They took me up an elevator, my chest tight, my hands sweaty. The flash drive was still in my pocket—I’d slipped it there when they grabbed me. If they searched me, I was done.

The doors opened to an office—big, clean, all windows and polished wood. Graham sat behind a desk, his suit sharp, his face calm but cold. My stomach sank, my hands clenching as the men shoved me into a chair. “Leave us,” Graham said, his voice smooth, waving them off. They stepped back, shutting the door, and it was just me and him, the quiet heavy.

“Liam,” he said, leaning forward, his hands folded. “You’ve been busy.”

I swallowed, my throat dry, my heart racing. “What do you want?” I asked, my voice shaky but hard.

He smiled, small and mean, like he already knew everything. “The flash drive,” he said, his voice low. “Hand it over, now.”

My hands tightened in my lap, the drive burning a hole in my pocket. “I don’t have it,” I said, my voice steady, lying fast. “Lost it, running from your guys.”

His smile faded, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t play with me,” he said, his voice sharp. “I know you and Nate split up, know what you’ve got. That video—Harper’s little mistake. Give it to me, and this ends easy.”

I stared at him, my chest tight, my mind spinning. He knew—about the video, about us. My hands shook, but I kept them still, kept my face blank. “You’re scared,” I said, my voice low, pushing back. “That video—it’s her stealing, framing Nate. And the folder—your money, offshore accounts. I saw it, Graham. You’re laundering—years of it.”

His face didn’t change, but his hands clenched, just a little. “Smart boy,” he said, his voice cold. “Figured it out, huh? Too bad it won’t help you.”

“It will,” I said, my voice rising, my hands out of my lap now. “It’s enough—Harper’s done, and you’re next. Zoe’s got it—or will soon. You can’t stop it.”

He laughed, short and harsh, leaning back in his chair. “Zoe?” he said, his voice mocking. “She’s running—scared off already. You’ve got nothing, Liam. Just that drive—and I’ll have it.”

I shook my head, my chest burning. “No,” I said, my voice hard. “You’re wrong—I’ve got everything. Nate’s got the folder—your blackmail list too. My name’s on it—debts you made up, pushed me with. It’s over.”

His eyes flashed, his hands flat on the desk now. “Over?” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “You think you can talk your way out? I own you, Liam—your past, your mistakes. Those debts—real enough to bury you. One call, and you’re in jail—gambling, fraud, whatever I say.”

My stomach twisted, my hands shaking again. He’d done it before—shown me that folder, papers with my name, amounts I’d begged for years ago. Fake or not, it had stuck—scared me into testifying, into leaving Nate. My chest hurt, my breath fast. “You don’t own me,” I said, my voice rough, standing up. “Not anymore—I’m done running.”

He stared at me, his face hard, then stood too, slow, like he had all the time in the world. “Done?” he said, his voice quiet, stepping around the desk. “You’re done when I say you are. Sit down, Liam—or I’ll make this worse.”

I didn’t move, my legs locked, my hands in fists. “Worse how?” I asked, my voice shaking but loud. “You’ve got nothing left—Harper’s caught, your money’s out. Threaten me all you want—I’m not giving you the drive.”

He stopped, close now, his eyes cold, his breath even. “Nothing left?” he said, his voice low, pulling something from his pocket—a photo, small, creased. He held it up, and my heart stopped. Nate—unconscious, head lolling, blood on his face, tied to a chair. My legs went weak, my breath gone.

“What—” I started, my voice breaking, my hands reaching for it. He pulled it back, his smirk growing.

“Caught him,” he said, his voice smooth, mean. “Folder and all—my guys are good. You thought you’d split up, confuse us? Cute—but I’ve got him now.”

I stared, my chest caving in, my hands shaking hard. Nate—hurt, taken. My fault—I’d let him go, let him run alone. “You’re lying,” I said, my voice weak, desperate. “He’s fine—he’s out there.”

“Is he?” Graham said, stepping closer, the photo in his hand. “You sure? Give me the drive, Liam—or he pays for it. More than he already has.”

My hands clenched, my eyes burning, my mind screaming. Nate—his voice in the park, “You’re in,” trusting me again. I’d promised—promised to earn it back. Now he was hurt, because of me. “No,” I said, my voice low, shaking. “You won’t touch him.”

Graham’s smirk widened, his eyes glinting. “You think you’re the only one with leverage?” he said, his voice soft, cutting, the photo dangling between us.