I want to say so many things to Isabelle right now, all of which would be the truth. However, I know if I open my mouth, the metal blade pressed against my neck will slide right through me with little effort.

She doesn't understand.

The asshole trying his hand with her thinks he's playing a game of roulette, and he is, but like him, no one knows the outcome here.

"Here's the deal," the man in the chair says. "You get the correct key code from her, and you'll be let go, but she'll be taken care of. If she offers it up on her own, she'll be let go, and you'll be taken care of. Unfortunately, there aren't two winners in this case, so figure it out between the both of you."

I want to ask him what happens when neither of us says a word, but I have an assumption. Though, killing one or both of us won't get them any further.

"Set the clock," he says while standing from his chair. The men open the metal gate and lock us inside.

Isabelle is staring through me, and I can only imagine what thoughts are going through her head. I imagine she doesn't trust me for obvious reasons, but she can also see the damage done to my face. If I were her, I'd be figuring it was a setup so she'll probably want me to take the fall, rather than herself.

She takes a few steps forward, reaching out for my face. The tips of her soft fingers sweep against a bruise that I can feel deep inside. "Is everything a lie?" she asks softly.

I answer immediately, needing her to know I didn't have to think, needing her to see I can look her in the eyes while saying "No."

"You can give them the key code," she says. "I don't want to live like this anymore."

"No, this is insane. They'll still kill both of us. Don't give that information up, no matter what. Do you understand?" I ask her.

That guy was a moron. Either I get the information from her or she says it out loud on her own? Either way, it's coming out of her mouth, so they can play with their words, but they aren't getting this.

"Where's the SD card?" I ask out into the dark hall.

"It's here," one of them says.

"Show me," I demand.

They laugh, as I expected.

"Harley, give them the code," I tell her.

"Harley?" one asks.

I push her against the wall with force and bring my cuffed hands up to her neck. I arch my neck and whisper into her ear. "You got a bobby pin on you?"

She exhales a small sigh, enough for me to hear the positive inflection. I reach behind her head, causing the cuffs to press against her throat as I retrieve a pin from the back of her hair.

"Are you going to say it?" I hiss.

"No," she breathes.

"No?" I question.

"Yes," she replies.

"Good," I tell her.

"No," she continues.

Her eyebrow perks with a slight twitch, and I know what she's doing.

"Isabelle, the code," I say.

"Okay," she says. Her eyelashes bat furiously, making her look completely insane. "Yes."

The footsteps from the men outside of the cell echo as they come closer.

"The code," I remind her.

"Code," she says.

I pull my hands away from her neck and move them up to her cheeks, using a visible force that should only be seen and not felt.

"What is it?” I press.

She spits in my eyes and instinctually, I want to squeeze her face a little harder, but I fucking love this woman. I wipe my face off on my sleeve. "Your code," she says.

"What the hell is she doing?” one of the men yells in.

"You know she ain’t right," I yell out to them. "Shit, what the hell are you expecting?"

"Get the damn code," I hear from them.

"Code," she says again.

"They're playing with us," I hear another one of the men say.

"Do you hear that?" Isabelle asks me.

I nod. "No,” I respond. She's up to something.

"Ow," she groans then whimpers as if she were in pain. "Ow, stop it. Stop it, stop it!"

I'm glad I'm the only one who can look at her with a hint of a smile. Learning the techniques in her brain turns me on, despite knowing there's a good chance we aren't getting the hell out of here.

"Stop it, what are you doing? Why are you doing this to me?" She's screaming and wrenching her fingers through her hair. Her face is turning a deep shade of red, and she falls to her knees holding her ears. "Why?" She continues to cry out. "Make it stop! Please, God, make it stop. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I can't take it anymore. Why? Why? Please!"

Holy shit. She's either for real or deserves a goddamn Emmy. "Isabelle, what's … "

"Fuck off. Fuck you, Axel. Fuck you, Everett. Fuck you, Mason. Fuck everyone. I don't give a shit about a damn code, or a fucking interrogation weapon. Go kill everyone, just kill me first. Kill me, you hear, you fucking assholes. Kill me."

"Isabelle,” I say again. She might be losing it, for real.

"Fuck you," she screams. "I don't even have the code." She starts laughing, deep belly laughs as she curls into a ball. "I forgot the code."

Shit.

A piercing sound chimes through the air, like a dog whistle, but louder. It hurts like a bitch. What the hell is that? I look toward the metal bars, but I don't see the men. Isabelle stops shuddering, screaming, and yanking her hair. She's calm and peaceful on the ground with her eyes wide open. I don't know if she's conscious. What I do know is I can't cover my fucking ears because of these cuffs.

The sound is slicing down my spine, hitting every single nerve ending in my body. It's like getting stabbed with a thousand knives at the same time.

"What the hell is going on?" one of the men yells.

"Can you hear me?" I ask Isabelle, gritting through the words.

She doesn't move. She doesn't blink. Is she fucking dead?

I drop down to my knees from the weakness shattering through my muscles. I've studied the theory of high pitched ultrasonic sounds deranging nerves in the human body but haven't experienced it first-hand. It can cause permanent damage and psychosis.

The lights go on outside of the cell, and it's all stone wall and brick surrounding the area we're in. There are three men total, all holding their ears, hunched over.

"Tell her to shut it off," a fourth man turns the corner. His mouth is muffled by the black material covering his face, but he seems unaffected by the sound torturing the rest of us.

"This isn't her, you fuck," I yell, though I can hardly hear my own voice now.

The cell door opens, and the new guy stalks forward, heading for Isabelle. I try to push myself to my feet fast enough to stand in front of her, but my muscles are like putty. He grabs her by the back of her head and pulls her up to her feet. He's tearing at her hair, pulling it out of the style she spent an hour fixing it into before dinner last night, which seems like days ago at this point.

From the corner of my eye, I've noticed two of the three men have gone unconscious, and I'm probably not far behind. The third is vomiting in the corner, groaning with pain.

"Shut it off," the man says to her. "Now, Isabelle. Don’t go thinking I didn’t figure out what the fucking hippie bracelet was you’ve been wearing day and night. I felt the wires beneath it earlier when I touched it. Just as I had assumed. It’s your cute little version of pepper spray, right?”

At first, I’m confused by what he’s saying, but the way he says her name does something to me. It strikes a different nerve, one that burns.

"You have to be fucking kidding me," I exhale through the nearly inaudible whisper I'm capable of.

"I'll end him right now, Isabelle. Shut it off."

With a trembling arm, she reaches to her wrist and pinches the bracelet in the center, making the sound stop suddenly. I try to hold my focus on what's going on around me, but everything is spinning and vibrating.

He squats down in front of her and holds his hand under her chin. "Do you know how badly I want this to be over?" he asks her. "What's it been now? Three years since you started this research with Phillips?” He turns to look at her, waiting for an answer. "I don't know about you, but I'm done with the chase.”

"You know nothing about me,” she says. Fear is obviously trickling through her, but she’s doing her best to mask it with her monotone way of speaking.

"Fine." He pulls a rifle out from behind him—the one I bought him. It's pointed at my head. "Last chance, Isabelle.” I hear the click as he cocks his rifle.