Say Less I Love You Episode 6

Chapter 60

Jacob

I blink, trying to focus on the masked figure looming over me. The sterile room swims in and out of view as I struggle against the lingering effects of whatever they've been pumping into me.

"Who the hell are you?" I croak, my throat raw from the breathing tube they must have removed.

The masked person tilts their head, studying me. "Mr. Stone, you're in a unique situation."

"No shit," I spit out, tugging at the restraints that are no longer there. My wrists ache from where they bit into my skin. "What kind of situation? Where am I?"

They sigh, the sound muffled behind their mask. "It's not the best situation, I'm afraid."

Anger flares in my chest, cutting through the fog in my mind. "What the fuck are you talking about? Stop being so damn cryptic and tell me what's going on!"

The masked figure takes a step back, clearly not used to being spoken to like this. Good. I may be drugged and confused, but I'm still Jacob Stone. I don't take kindly to being jerked around.

"Mr. Stone, please try to remain calm. Your condition is delicate-"

"My condition?" I interrupt, forcing myself to sit up despite the room spinning. "The only condition I had was an allergic reaction. To cayenne pepper. In Nyla's apartment." The memories come flooding back, along with a fresh wave of anger and hurt. "Where's Nyla? Does she know I'm here?"

The masked person hesitates, and that's all the answer I need.

"Goddamnit, where am I?" I demand, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. My muscles protest, weak from disuse. How long have I been here?

"Mr. Stone, please-"

"No, you please," I growl, gripping the edge of the bed to steady myself. "Start talking, or I swear to God, I'll rip that mask off your face myself."

"Then I'll never be able to talk to you about the poison that's coursing through your bloodstream as we speak," he says.

I stare at the masked figure, my head pounding with confusion and anger. "What the hell are you talking about? Poison?"

The figure shifts uncomfortably. "Mr. Stone, when you were brought in for your allergic reaction, certain... individuals at this facility saw an opportunity. They administered the first part of a two-part poison."

My fists clench, knuckles turning white. "You've got to be fucking kidding me. Who? Why?"

"I can't disclose that information," the figure says, taking a step back. "But I can tell you that once exposed to the second part, you'll... well, you won't survive."

A cold sweat breaks out across my skin. "So what, this is some kind of ransom? Blackmail?"

The figure nods slowly. "In a manner of speaking. They need your cooperation. And they're willing to go to extreme lengths to get it."

I stare at the masked figure, my mind reeling from the revelation. "You're telling me I've got half a poison cocktail swimming around in my veins? That's fan-fucking-tastic."

The figure nods, their posture tense. "The second half can be administered orally or nasally. A simple smell or even a specific tone could trigger it."

"A tone?" I bark out a laugh, the sound harsh in the room. "What, like some twisted version of name that tune?"

"Precisely. A phone call with the right frequency could activate it."

My hands clench into fists, nails digging into my palms. "And then what? I keel over?"

"You'd have two to three hours, give or take."

"Jesus Christ," I mutter, running a hand through my hair. It's greasy, matted. How long have I been here? "So what's the endgame here? What do they want?"

The figure shifts uncomfortably. "Cooperation, Mr. Stone. They need your full compliance."

"With what?" I demand, my voice rising. "What the hell could be worth all this?"

"I'm not at liberty to disclose-"

"Cut the bullshit!" I roar, surging to my feet. My legs wobble, but I force myself to stay upright. "You can't drop a bomb like this and then clam up. What. Do. They. Want?"

The figure takes a step back, hands raised. "Mr. Stone, please. I'm just the messenger."

I advance on them, fury and fear battling for dominance in my chest. "Then deliver a message for me. Tell your bosses they can go fuck themselves. I'm not playing their sick game."

"You don't have a choice," the figure says softly. "They've already made the first move."

The implications hit me like a freight train. Nyla. My family. The company. Everything I've built, everything I care about, balanced on a knife's edge.

"Goddammit," I whisper, the fight draining out of me. I slump back onto the bed, head in my hands. "What am I supposed to do?"

The figure's voice is almost gentle. "Listen carefully, Mr. Stone. And choose your next moves very, very wisely."

I glare at the masked figure, my jaw clenched tight. "Why did you do this?" I demand, the words scraping past my raw throat.

The figure shifts, their posture tense. "There's a reason, Mr. Stone. It'll be made clear to you later."

"Fucking bullshit," I spit. "You don't get to play games with my life without giving me something."

"We needed to ensure your cooperation," they say, their voice maddeningly calm. "You'll get further instructions from someone in the future."

I lean forward, ignoring the protest of my aching muscles. "And how the hell am I supposed to know who that is? You gonna send them in a clown suit?"

"You'll know because that person will say a code phrase," the figure explains. "'I think it's going to be a full moon tonight.'"

"How poetic," I sneer. "What happens now?"

"We're going to release you, Mr. Stone." The figure takes a step back. "And you're not going to tell anyone about this."

I bark out a laugh. "You really think I'm just going to walk away and keep my mouth shut?"

"You will if you want to live," they say, their voice hardening. "We'll be watching you. If you try to find the cure or tell anyone, we'll activate the poison and move on to someone else."

The threat hangs in the air between us. I feel the weight of it pressing down on my chest, making it hard to breathe.

"It's in your best interest to cooperate," the figure continues. "Or else you and those close to you will suffer."

I clench my fists, rage and helplessness warring inside me. "You're not going to get away with this," I growl.

The figure tilts their head. "We already have, Mr. Stone. The question is, what are you going to do about it?"