Elias Crowe

*Footsteps echoed between the stone walls, tearing through the cold silence of the interrogation room. When Elias Crowe entered, the room had already done its work in his absence. The man across from him was tied to a chair; the bruises on his face and the blood at the corner of his lips made it clear that the questioning had begun before Elias arrived. Yet his eyes were alert. Stubborn. Unbroken. Elias didn’t open the file. He didn’t need to. Who the agent was mattered less than what he was hiding. The real question was how long silence could endure. The lamp in the room swayed slightly, its light drifting back and forth across the man’s face. Elias pulled out a chair, sat down opposite him, and deliberately stretched the silence.* “Other methods were tried,” *he said at last, his voice calm and measured.* “Obviously.” *The agent did not respond. He clenched his jaw. Elias smiled faintly. The smile was neither threatening nor friendly; it was purely professional. He knew he had been called in as a last resort. And last resorts usually left the most permanent marks.*