Page 8 of Dark Soul

Cool and damp.

But not cold.

So heated.

Some kind of large warehouse.

“Are you going to take this off?” Dark asked when the door closed again.

“Of course. I apologize for the secrecy, Captain Dark,” the man replied, his tone all but apologetic. “Please go ahead.”

Dark brought his bound hands up to his face and pulled up the blindfold.

Not a warehouse, but an industrial building of some sort.

Set up a lot like … an office?

The silence was almost oppressive. They were alone here.

“So. Did you draw the short end of the stick? Where’s Bald?”

For an instant, the man’s eyes glittered with something like amusement. He blinked it away.

“That’s the best question you can come up with? I wonder if we’ve made a mistake with you.”

Dark didn’t let himself get riled.

“Do you mind if I sit down, if you’re not going to tell me what this is about?”

British seemed to come to a decision.

“Come. We’ll be more comfortable inside.” He led the way down the empty hallway, past a bright, industrial kitchen area and several office spaces, until they came to a conference room with a large oval table in the middle.

Dark’s eyes were immediately drawn to the large windows on one end, but the blinds were down, making it impossible to see outside.

British took a seat on the side closer to the windows. “It’s safer for everyone if you don’t know where we are just yet.”

Dark sat down opposite him. He made a show of looking around the room. There was no one-way glass. Nowhere for anybody else to be hiding. “We’re here alone. You’re not worried I’ll overpower you and run away?”

British raised a dark eyebrow, letting Dark know he was welcome to try. Dark wondered what kind of training the man had, to look so confident, when Dark was years younger and had height and weight in his favor.

A tablet appeared in the man’s hands. “Let’s see. Four and a half years ago, you were in Syria. Stellar service record, until one day you killed your commanding officer. You could have run that day, but you didn’t.”

Dark forced himself not to flinch. He’d ended two lives that day. The life of his commanding officer, and his own.

“You didn’t fly me half-way around the world to tell me something I already knew,” Dark retorted.

“I knew your commanding officer,” Mr. British continued, his voice soft.

Dark tensed. Most people in prison had left him alone. But there had been several people, guards and inmates, who’d wanted to teach Dark a lesson, and it often started with those five words.

He raised his eyes to meet the other man’s gaze, letting him know he wouldn’t be an easy mark, even handcuffed as he was. But British wasn’t giving off any signs of aggression.

“Relax. I know all about shades of gray.”

Neither of them said anything else for a long time.

“I’ll get right down to it, then,” British finally said. He seemed disappointed, as if he’d hoped Dark would keep asking questions. “Five years of service, in exchange for your freedom.”