in trouble. Secondly, her mother had named her Maisie. The cruel nickname was just another way for people to abuse and humiliate her.
She had left him another orange that morning—and then she had vanished.
Deep down in the dark parts of him where he still allowed a sliver of hope to reside, he pleaded for her to be alive somewhere safe. He wanted to believe that she had escaped, maybe with the help of the Red Feather or with a contact Devious had left her. She deserved to be free and happy.
Of all the regrets Terror had—and there were many—one of the worst was that he hadn’t been able to thank Maisie for all she had done for him. Her kindness and decency had saved him. She had given him the strength to endure. She had given him a bright spot to anticipate. He had counted down the days until her next visit, forcing himself to suffer through whatever horror the Splinters had in store for him so he could see her incredibly blue eyes and feel her shy hands on his body.
If she was still alive, he would find her. If he had to travel to the ends of the galaxy, he would find her. If she was happy and safe, he would leave her be. If she was in trouble, he would save her and set her free.
He just needed the right piece of intel. One little bit of information that would give him an idea of where to start looking.
And he planned to get it from Reckless.
Secure in the Shadow Force unit, he traversed a long hallway and a series of doors to a thick, black slab. It was the entrance to the cell they called The Hole. The disgraced doctor had been brought to The Hole after Stinger stabilized him. While Terror had been forced to recover in the hospital for two days, Torment had taken custody of Reckless. No doubt, the doctor had learned exactly why his friend had been given that name.
He scanned his good eye on the retina screen and waited for the door to unlock. With a hiss, it unsealed itself and opened outward, the hinges squealing under its weight. He stepped inside the dank, dark room and let his eyes adjust.
In the center of the room, Reckless had been forced into a stress position. He was squatting low, shackled to a bolt on the floor with his arms restrained behind his back and shackled to a bolt in the floor. Judging by the antiseptic smell in the room, Grim had given their prisoner a hasty spray down to clean him up before Terror’s arrival.
Unable to crouch with his broken leg in a brace, Terror motioned for Grim to get their prisoner on his feet. Reckless howled and whined as Grim roughly dragged him upright and moved his arm shackles overhead, securing him from a ceiling ring. The older man’s legs shook as his abused muscles tried to accept the flow of blood they had been denied so long.
Standing in front of Reckless, Terror simply stared at him. He had learned in his earliest interrogations that silence and a steady look were the most unnerving things to a prisoner. He let his gaze rake over the eye patch covering the doctor’s empty socket and the bandage that had been slapped over gash in the side of his head from his missing ear. There hadn’t been much point in Stinger fixing the man’s wounds. He wouldn’t be alive long enough to heal.
“Apologies for making you wait,” Terror finally said. “I trust my friends treated you to a level of hospitality you’ve yet to experience.”
Reckless gulped. He wasn’t stupid enough to say anything.
“You know, my friends tell me that they discovered your little handbook of nightmares in the files they took from the mine.” When Reckless flinched, he smiled. “I had no idea you liked to freelance as an enhanced interrogation expert. Perhaps you’d like to give me an honest opinion on our techniques?”
Reckless started to shake. “Please, I’ll tell you anything.”
“Of course, you will,” Terror agreed. “After.”
“Please,” Reckless cried. “Please! I’ll tell you about the mole! I’ll tell you about Devious. What do you want to know?”
“Grim, how many times did the good doctor here stab Pierce?”
“Six.” Grim stepped forward with a wickedly sharp scalpel in his hand.
Reckless panicked as his gaze fell on the gleaming scalpel. “No! NO!”