The guitar music floats across the flames and soothes me. His fingers squeak along the strings. He strums and hums and I hear the lyrics in my head. It’s a song about nothing. About being nothing. About wanting nothing. About having nothing.

It’s a pretty good song.

“You hungry yet?” he says, his fingers never missing.

I close my eyes again. I’d like to think I’m Zen enough to want nothing. But I’m not. I want more.

“More what?” Case asks.

“Drugs.”

“I stopped the drugs two days ago, Sydney.”

I realize my hair is damp and I wonder how much I missed this time.

“We need to continue. I have more questions.”

“I have no more answers.”

“You have all the answers, Syd.”

I smile at him. Standing there out on the riverbank, pole in hand. “I thought you left me.” A sob escapes with the final word. “I’m so tired of being alone.”

“Words can be poems, or songs, or gifts. Words can also be threats, lies, and broken promises. You should learn the difference.”

– Case

“Where would I go?” I ask her. She’s distant, as usual. But she’s talking again, so that’s good.

“It’s me who leaves.”

She’s gone. I’m not sure she’s got anything left to tell, and even if she does, I’m not sure any of it will be reliable.

I was in the army for four years. Just enough time to change the course of everything. I came straight out of South Boston, a strange kid with a mind most men would covet and a body that could be molded and trained to back his shit up.

I’m the first to admit I’m sick and twisted. Kicked out of every school in the neighborhood. Truant for weeks and months at a time. A blight on the schedules of every social worker I ever encountered. And yet here I am. A player.

Did they see that one coming? Did MIT, and Harvard, and Cambridge see that one coming?

Of course they did. That’s why they all wanted me.

And if people want you, your best bet is to turn and walk the other way.

The army was where my feet took me. One enlistment, one army general classification test, and one fucked-up mission later—not in the desert, no. In the US. That’s where I did all my field work. Where I did all my active duty.

That is what led me to this guy I am today.

They made so many mistakes with me. Letting me in the army was the first. But when someone like me shows up for a war and can wield the weapons they know exist, but don’t have enough manpower to use effectively, well, he’s in.

They reclassified me six times in the first six months after basic. Creamed their fucking panties with each promotion. Merric, they said. Merric Case is exactly the kind of man we require.

Garrett McGovern was that man too. We are alike in all the ways that count to career warmongers. But we are different in the only way that matters.

I work alone. I might call on friends for help in certain missions. But I work alone. There is no team in I.

I don’t think it ever occurred to them that I’d leave. Not after the success we had. Not even after the failure. What is failure to them, anyway? Just a temporary setback.

That’s what my leaving was too, I guess. Nothing but a temporary setback. Because they got me on new jobs even though I was a civilian. Time after time after time.

But the last time? That time I was sent to save Sydney and saved Sasha instead? That cut all the ties that bind.

Two girls. One mission. And the absolute worst possible outcome. For them, anyway.

Sydney is collateral damage. She is nothing more than a pawn. She is weak and pathetic in all the ways that Sasha is strong and brave.

I made the right choice that day. Sasha was the right choice. Sydney is just a leftover that needs to be swept under the rug.

But that job never ended. Not when I left her that day. Not when I helped Sasha get her revenge. Not when I stole hundreds of millions of dollars straight out of their deep fucking pockets.

It’s gonna end soon though. This is it. My end. Sydney’s end as well.

She stirs on the bed and I know she’s coming back again. This drifting she does, I have no clue what it means other than they did a good job on her. She’s given up nothing of real importance. Her release word is inconsequential in the long run. It’s a good first step. But is she even worth all the steps between here and victory?

I doubt it.

She turns over and places a hand on my leg. I’m sitting up in bed, smoking, as I let it all play out in my head. There were so many potential outcomes before she ran. But now there are only two.

I let her live. I let her die.

If I let her live and start working her for real, I get less than ideal intel. Less than reliable, I should say.

If I let her die as soon as that’s over, I can take what I want right now and sift through it objectively later.

Her hand slips down my leg and grabs my cock.

I react. I like sexy Sydney a little more than I’d like to admit. I grab her hands and flip her over on her stomach. She whimpers, but not in a bad way.

“I’ll take that hard fuck now, Syd.”

“I like the sting of reality. It reminds me I have no control over any of this.”

– Sydney

Syd.

“Don’t call me—”

His hand wraps under and around my throat, not squeezing the breath from me, but cutting off my protests. “Let’s review, Sydney. I push your limits. You beg me for more. Got it?”

“Is this how you killed the other girls you were close with,” I squeak past his grip. “Pushing their limits? Is this how you’ll kill me? Begging you for more?”

“You can only hope.” A hand slips under my hips and I automatically lift them up to allow him access. “Because hey, if it’s your time to go, might as well go out screaming with pleasure instead of screaming in pain.”

“Ha. I know you didn’t kill those girls.”

“Then why start a fight?” He plays with my clit as he says the words.

I bite my lip and hold in the moan. “Because that’s what you want, right? The fight? That’s what turns you on? Garrett likes submission. But that’s how the two of you are different. You like the fight.”

He yanks my hair so hard I cry out. I try to look up to gauge his reaction to my words, but he holds the hair close to my scalp, preventing me from seeing his face as he leans into my shoulder and whispers in my ear. “Don’t compare me to him. We parted ways for a reason. We’re not the same, wildcat. He kills by accident. I kill with purpose.”

The words tickle my ear and I shudder. Not from his fingers, still doing that very thrilling circular motion over my sweet spot, but from the fact that he didn’t deny killing the other girls even though I know he didn’t. I feel a small surge of power. “So you’re saying you did kill them?”

“What do you know about them?”

“I know they were your girlfriends. I know they went missing. And I know you didn’t kill them. You sent them away.”

He chuckles a little. He sounds almost normal when he does it, too, like it really is funny. “You know nothing.”

“I know you didn’t kill them because I was there when Garrett did.”

Case goes still above me.

“He knew you set it up to make it look like they went missing. But he found them. Long time ago, Case. He found them and brought them up into the mountains where we were staying, and he made me watch.”