Vance’s ultimatum echoed endlessly in my mind. It was a flawless, sociopathic trap. Grant was using the very parents who had protected his lies as a human shield. If I spoke the truth tomorrow, I became the monster who sent her elderly mother and father to rot in federal prison. If I lied, I surrendered my name, my honor, and let Grant walk away to destroy more lives.
I paced the floor, running my hands through my hair. They did this to you, a dark voice whispered in my mind. They threw you to the wolves ten years ago. Let them hang. But the thought of Judith, frail and terrified in a concrete cell, made my stomach turn. I was a survivor, not an executioner.
My intelligence training had taught me that when the enemy boxes you into a binary choice—A or B, surrender or destroy—you don’t choose. You blow up the box.
