Chapter 156 The Interrogation

Chapter 156 The Interrogation
Rhys sat alone in his office, the letter from Arthur Sterling still glowing on his screen. The words had been burned into his memory: "I know you have history."

He pulled up Noah's file again, this time focusing on the details he had previously skimmed over. The adoption records. The foster care placements. The incident that had changed everything.

Noah was three when he was placed in the system. His biological mother had been young, struggling, unable to care for him. He moved between homes for years, none of them permanent, none of them loving. By the time he was eight, he had developed a hard shell, a distrust of adults, a talent for trouble.

Then, he was placed with the Vancorp family. A middle-aged couple, well-off, eager to give a troubled boy a fresh start. For a while, it worked. Noah began to open up, to trust, to believe that maybe he could have a normal life.

But the Vancorps had secrets. The family business was struggling. They had taken Noah in not just out of charity, but for the government subsidies that came with fostering a troubled child. And when those subsidies weren't enough, they found other ways to make ends meet.

They used Noah to run small errands, delivering packages, collecting payments. He was young, too young to understand what he was carrying. It wasn't until later, much later, that he realized he had been running drugs for his adoptive parents.

When the police raided the Vancorp home, Noah was caught in the crossfire. He was thirteen. He was terrified. He was angry, angry at the parents who had used him, angry at the system that had failed him, angry at a world that had never given him a chance.

But it was the fire that changed everything.

The community center. A place Noah had gone to escape, to find warmth and a hot meal. He had been there the night it burned. He had seen the figures fleeing, had smelled the gasoline, had known, somehow, that it wasn't an accident.

The Vancorps had done it. A simple insurance job. But Noah was the one who was caught. Noah was the one whose fingerprints were found on a discarded gas can. Noah was the one who went to trial, the one who was convicted, the one who spent twelve years in a prison cell.

And Arthur Sterling? Arthur had been there. He had seen the Vancorps leaving the scene. He had known the truth. But he had also known that exposing them meant exposing his own ties to their family business. So he had stayed silent. He had watched a boy he knew, be sent away for a crime.

It was the guilt of that silence that had driven Arthur to visit Noah in prison. The payments, the letters, the promises, all attempts to ease a conscience that had never fully forgiven itself.

Noah had emerged from prison a different man. The anger that had simmered for twelve years had crystallized into a cold, calculated rage. He knew the truth. He knew Arthur had betrayed him. And he was determined to make the Sterlings pay for what they had done.

Arthur had tried to buy him off. But some wounds, Rhys knew, couldn't be healed with money. Some betrayals couldn't be forgiven.

Rhys sat back, the full weight of the story settling over him. He stood, his decision made. It was time to confront Noah with what he had found, and finally, to learn the truth from the man who had been shaped by it.

The small town was quiet, the kind of place where strangers were noticed. Noah had chosen it well, isolated and easy to disappear into.

The Aegis team had been tracking him for three days, moving through the narrow streets patiently. They had identified his safe house, a stone cottage on the edge of town, surrounded by overgrown gardens and a rusted gate.

Noah had grown careless. He ventured out for supplies in the late afternoon, when the streets were empty. He didn't notice the van parked at the end of the lane. He didn't see the figures moving through the trees.

He was halfway back to the cottage when they took him.

Three men emerged from the shadows, moving with silent precision. Noah had time to register the movement, to reach for the worn pistol tucked into his waistband, but he was too late. A heavy arm locked around his throat, cutting off his air. His pistol clattered to the ground. His hands were wrenched behind his back, and cold steel clicked around his wrists.

"Don't struggle," a voice said in his ear. "It'll only make it worse."

Noah's world narrowed to the pressure of the cuffs, the gravel grinding against his knees, the cold dread spreading through his chest. He had run for months. He had changed his name, his face, his entire existence. And still, they had found him.

They dragged him to the van, shoved him inside, and pulled a black hood over his head. The engine started. The van rumbled through the narrow streets, and Noah felt the town he had chosen as his sanctuary fade behind him.

The Aegis facility was cold and utterly silent. Rhys watched from behind the one-way glass as Noah was led into the interrogation room. The hood was removed. Noah blinked against the harsh fluorescent light, his face pale, his eyes darting around the sterile space.

He looked older. Thinner. The charm that had once made him so dangerous was gone, replaced by a hunted, weary desperation.

Rhys entered the room, closing the door softly behind him. Noah looked up, and for a moment, something flashed in his eyes.

"Rhys," Noah said, his voice hoarse. "I was wondering when you'd show up."

"Did you think I'd forget about you?"

"Frankly, I was hoping you would." Noah attempted a smile, but couldn't. "But I should have known better."

Rhys sat across from him, his gaze steady, unyielding. "You're not here for a conversation, Noah. You're here to answer questions. And you're going to answer every single one of them."

Noah leaned back in his chair, his cuffed hands resting on the table. "Or what? You'll hurt me? I've been hurt before. I've been in prison. I've been beaten, starved, forgotten. There's nothing you can do to me that hasn't been done."

"I'm not going to hurt you, Noah." Rhys's voice was calm, controlled. "I'm going to give you a choice. Talk, and you go to a real prison, where you'll serve your time and maybe, eventually, get out. Don't talk, and you disappear. No trial. No lawyers. No one will ever know what happened to you."

Noah's eyes widened. The bravado cracked, just a little. "You wouldn't"

"Try me."

The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Noah looked at the one-way glass, at the shadows he knew were watching, and then back at Rhys. The fight drained out of him, replaced by a weary acceptance.

"Fine," he said, his voice flat. "I will answer all your questions, but I need a deal."

And so, the interrogation began.