Page 114 of The Session

Blaise’s eyes fluttered open. “Fuck,” he whispered.

“Who is your contact?” Mark demanded, face inches from Blaise’s.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Blaise moaned.

Mark pulled the gun from his pocket and shoved the muzzle against Blaise’s cheek, crushing his head against the concrete like a vise.

“You bring this fucking thing in here?” Mark yelled in his ear. “Try to use this on me? And you have the nerve to lie to me now?”

“It’s not a real gun,” Blaise told him.

“It’s going to feel pretty real when I start bashing your fucking skull in. The only way you’re getting out of here is if you tell me who your contact is.” Mark pressed the barrel harder to his cheekbone.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Mark kept maximum pressure on Blaise’s face and used his other hand to grip his neck, putting a thumb into a nerve under the jaw.

“Do you hear that?” Mark asked.

“What?”

“Exactly. Nothing. There are no footsteps coming down the hall. They saw you unplug the camera. All they care about right now is that one of us walks out of here with what they want to know.” Mark shoved his thumb higher into Blaise’s neck and started to squeeze his jugular.

“Fuck, fuck, man, stop it!” Blaise shouted.

“Name,” Mark demanded.

“You’re not supposed to be able to do this,” Blaise pleaded.

“Like bringing a gun to fucking threaten me?” Mark shot back.

“It was just . . .”

Mark jabbed his thumb even higher, and Blaise let out a howl.

“Nichols!” Blaise squealed.

The ex-CIA man? “Bullshit.”

“I’m fucking serious!”

Mark shook his head and pushed up with the gun, scraping Blaise’s jaw with the textured grip.

“I swear to God, I can fucking prove it. He came to me!” Blaise insisted.

“How?”

“The Signal app on my phone. You can check. The code is 22 17 28.”

While Mark had been acting on pure instinct, it dawned on him that Blaise had never had his ass seriously kicked, and he was terrified. Mark could literally smell the fear on him.

“I will kick you to fucking death if you’re lying to me,” Mark warned.

“I fucking get that. Just don’t let them kill me,” Blaise pleaded.

There was a knock at the door. Mark glanced up and realized it was a signal.

He hauled Blaise back to his feet, tucked the gun back into his inside pocket, sat him down, then took his own seat.