The Nation's President Picked Me Up From Prison-Chapter 29: Greg: A Soldier With No Loyalty

"I hope you haven’t broken most of his bones yet," I tell Franco as we head toward the room where our prisoner waits.

"Knowing Franco," Lewinsky drawls behind us, keeping close, "if he worked alone, he’d have the bastard decapitated in no time. Good thing we’ve got the logical Miles to stop him from escalating things prematurely."

When we step inside, my gaze lands on the man strapped to a chair. His face is a canvas of bruises, but all his limbs are still attached. Good.

I’d love to break him myself.

"Hello, Lionel," I say, dragging a chair across the floor and planting it in front of him.

I sit. Lewinsky and Franco remain standing at my sides.

Lionel’s eyes had flickered with surprise the second I walked in, but now, seated this close, I see the truth beneath it—raw, unfiltered fear. The kind a man feels when he realizes the devil he mocked in stories is real, and sitting right in front of him.

Shame he’s not ready to be dragged to hell yet.

"I told you, I acted alone!" Lionel shouts, glaring at Franco.

Of course they had bonded in their own charming way before I arrived. Franco did drag him in, after all.

"Just kill me, Regent," he begs me.

"We’ll get there," I assure him. "No need to rush."

His jaw tightens. He doesn’t struggle. He’s too exhausted for that, but his eyes burn with the last scraps of defiance. If he had even one chance to break free, he’d take it. He’d kill us right here, even if he died two seconds later.

I admire the spirit. It’s the spirit of my soldiers. And as he used to be one of them, it makes sense he still has some grit.

But he has no loyalty.

And a soldier without loyalty is a fucking traitor.

"I just don’t get it," I say, leaning back, genuinely curious. "What did you gain from betraying us? Money? I doubt you were underpaid. And I’m sure those motherfuckers offered more than cash. So what was it?"

Silence stretches.

Then Lionel lets out a slow, poisonous smile.

"It wasn’t money I needed. Guess what?" he says, voice dripping with resentment. "I just got tired of your bullshit. You never give me major missions. You don’t say it, but you think Franco and Miles are better. I’m always stuck on the sidelines. And when I finally take initiative, when I succeed, you punish me like I committed a damn crime."

"For fuck’s sake, because of that stupid stunt, you almost got ten of our soldiers killed," Franco snaps. "A soldier follows orders. That’s what we do, you piece of shit."

"What’s the other reason?" I ask, calm as steel.

Lionel’s mouth shuts. His lips press tight.

I count to ten in my head. When he still refuses to talk, I drive my foot into his already-injured shoulder, pressing down hard. He yelps, the sound raw and ugly.

"Because of what you exposed to Renia, you’ve put the entire country at risk," Lewinsky says, voice cold enough to frost the walls. "And what happens when more people find out? Have you even thought about the chaos you’re inviting? I can’t fucking believe you."

"It’s not just about you being envious," I say, glaring down at Lionel.

I press my foot harder into his wounded shoulder. "Tell me."

He grunts, teeth grinding.

"You said this isn’t about money," Franco growls, fisting Lionel’s hair and wrenching his head up.

"It isn’t..." Lionel breathes, voice thin from pain.

"Then why did you betray us, fucker?!"

Lewinsky shakes his head and touches Franco’s shoulder, nudging him back a step. Franco knows his limits—most days. But some situations pry at his temper like a crowbar, and this is shaping up to be one of them. Better he steps away now before he accidentally snaps Lionel’s neck in a burst of fury.

Personally, I’d prefer the traitor alive long enough to bleed out every truth he’s hiding.

I rise from my chair. Lionel’s eyes widen the way men’s eyes do when they realize the suit in front of them isn’t afraid to get blood on the cuffs.

"T-they have my sister..." he chokes out.

Angry tears gather on his eyes, trembling.

"Those bastards have my sister! They said they’ll kill her if I don’t give them the information they want! They want you out of the presidential seat! Someone... someone in the government is working with them!"

My eyes narrow at that.

"In the first place, how did they know about our group?" I ask.

Our organization is airtight. Membership is need-to-know, and very few need to know.

"They don’t know about the group," Lionel says quickly. "But they know I used to work for your family... as part of your private security agency. They think I still have access. They want to find something they can use against you."

"And out of all the dirt you could have told them," I say, my voice dripping acid, "you chose the most confidential thing we have?"

"I only mentioned it vaguely," he insists. "I didn’t tell them everything! I know I lost my head when they threatened my sister, but I’m not stupid enough to give them the full truth!"

"What exactly did you say?" My words cut sharp.

"I told them you created a special weapon without the government’s knowledge," he whispers. "I said I don’t know much about it, so they told me to investigate. That’s all."

"If we didn’t catch you," Lewinsky asks quietly, "would you have told them the truth?"

We all know the answer. Cornered men break easily. And if Renia wasn’t satisfied with whatever scraps he fed them... he would’ve been forced to spill everything. A bitter taste crawls up my tongue.

"Why didn’t you tell us?" I ask.

His head droops. "Tell you what..."

"About your sister."

"Motherfucker," Franco mutters. "You think we’d just let your sister die if you told us? That we wouldn’t care?"

"What could you even do?" Lionel’s laugh is hollow, ugly. "You’re dealing with more important matters. And Renia is another country, we have no influence there. If we act rashly—"

"This idiot," Franco snaps. In a blink, he’s right in Lionel’s face, grabbing his bloody collar. "You think so little of us? You think we can’t handle another country? Instead of asking for help, you went alone and told them nonsense? Where the fuck is your brain?!"