in which a criminal is brought in for an interview after getting arrested.
she's the key for cracking a case the fbi had been working on for years.
but will she talk or will she continue hide, trying to run from her memories?
or
in which Spencer ca...
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▆ excruciating wait
▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂
﹙we will get you back﹚
"WHAT DID YOU DO?" Hotch hissed, slamming his hands on the metal table.
Verity tilted her head, her eyes staring into his brown ones as they sent shivers down her spine.
"How could I have done anything?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. She had done a lot more than they could even think of, but for once, there was no evidence. "I was here the entire time."
Hotch clenched his jaw, and his mouth pulled into a tight line. The raven-haired woman walked up to him. An unreadable expression was displayed on her face as she posed her eyes on Verity before shifting them to her boss. "Strauss wants to speak to you," she informed, her hand brushing against his arm.
Verity narrowed her eyes at the action. Movement, which didn't go unnoticed by the male agent, who, taking a deep breath, pushed himself off the desk.
He didn't bother sparing another glance at the detainee when he followed the woman outside, letting the door slam shut behind their bodies.
Verity shifted in her seat, turning her body to face the two-way mirror once again and moving her eyes to the gray wall- but not after sending a smirk to the agents behind the glass.
Everything was going according to plan; the only thing she could do now was wait. With a deep breath, she tried to ease the tension she felt in her shoulder; anxiety inevitably building in her chest.
It was fourteen past five.
They were coming. They had to; that was the plan.
"You want me to get arrested?" Her eyes shifted between the brown pair in front of her. He sighed, taking a step closer, but she took one back. It was an involuntary reaction; if she hadn't been confused by the information he had revealed, she would have never done it.
The emotion that crossed his face made her freeze; her foot still inches above the cold floor, not daring to touch it, and her muscles not able to move. "I-"
He took another step, a longer one, his hand grabbing her arms. "We need to get Ares back," he grumbled, his grip tightening on her skin. "If to do that, we need to get you in an interrogation room for a couple of hours, so be it."
Verity averted her gaze from his. She knew she wasn't vital to the Timoretikos; she was more an object they used to get what they wanted than an actual member of it, but for him, she thought she was more, somehow.
"You'd do that to me?" she asked, her voice wavering. He clenched his jaw, "I'm not doing anything. You will."
"Nathan-" he tilted his head, silencing her protest with just a movement. "What do I need to do?" she murmured, giving in. It was useless fighting back; it always was.
