The King: T'Challa.

Chapter 16: A New Threat

Two hours later they arrived at a nondescript office block on the edge of the city, its grey façade giving away nothing of the activity inside. The building smelt of steel and stale air, the kind of place where secrets were gathered, filed, and buried.

Emily had been led first to the medical bay, where her thigh wound was cleaned and dressed and the cut across her wrist bound tightly. The work was efficient but impersonal, and she was quickly discharged to rejoin T'Challa and Okoye in the observation room adjoining the interrogation chamber. Nakia had taken her post in the corridor as lookout.

Klaue sat inside behind reinforced glass, shackled but restless, his grin almost feral. The sight alone made T'Challa's shoulders tense; Emily could feel the fury radiating from him as he stared through the glass, his silence heavier than words.

Ross entered a moment later, brisk and self-assured, the kind of man who thought confidence could paper over cracks. He clapped his hands together lightly.

"Right," he said. "I'm thinking good cop, bad cop. I'll go in first, then you can have your turn."

Okoye's jaw tightened. She stepped closer to her king and spoke in clipped Xhosa, her voice hard as iron.
"Asikwazi ukumvumela ukuba athethe neKlaue yedwa." (We cannot let him speak to Klaue alone.)

T'Challa's reply was measured, but his own restraint was evident. "Bhetele ukuba amvumele akhulume imizuzu emihlanu kunokuba senze umcimbi apha." (Better to let him speak for five minutes than cause a scene here.)

Ross frowned at their exchange, clearly unsettled by the private cadence of a language he could not parse. His eyes flicked to Emily, searching for an explanation. She only shrugged with the faintest of smiles and pushed herself off the table she had been sitting on, coming to stand at T'Challa's side.

"After your questioning," she said evenly, her eyes still fixed on Klaue, "we take him back to Wakanda. That was always the plan."

Ross's head snapped towards her.
"What? No." His voice sharpened. "Look, I like you—" he jabbed a finger towards T'Challa, "—a lot. You—" he pointed at Emily, "—I'm not so sure about. But Klaue's in my custody now. He's not going anywhere. You should be grateful I'm even letting you in this building. Especially you, Miss Cassidy."

Emily dipped her head slightly, acknowledging the point, though her jaw tightened. Okoye, by contrast, fixed Ross with an expression that could have cut steel.

Ross, oblivious to the warning signs, laid a hand on T'Challa's shoulder as if to anchor the discussion. The gesture was casual, thoughtless—yet to Okoye it was a provocation. Her words came low and lethal, her tone leaving no room for doubt. "Ukuba uya kumthinta kwakhona, ndiza kumbethela kule desiki." (If he touches you again, I will pin him to that desk.)

Emily gave a quiet laugh despite herself. Ross, unnerved, quickly withdrew his hand, eyes darting between them.
"Does she speak English?" he asked, half wary.

Okoye crossed her arms and raised a single brow.
"When she wishes to."

Ross thought better than to pursue the matter. He turned instead back to Klaue, his hands slipping into his pockets.
"I'm going in. When I'm done, you can have him."

"Agent Ross," T'Challa said, his voice low but firm.

Ross paused.
"Yeah?"

"I do appreciate your help in Busan."

T'Challa's hand fell once again to Ross's shoulder—an apparently courteous gesture, though it masked the quiet placement of a small vibranium audio device. Their earpieces hummed with the signal, connecting them to everything that would be said inside.