Saturday Story 2025 #39 (Four Days – Part 4)
The newest Alexandra Ryder story continues today on my Patreon. Synopsis below:
When Alexandra Ryder’s vacation is interrupted so she can track down a known terrorist, she discovers she has only four days to prevent an international catastrophe.
In Part 4, Alexandra plays with the prisoner’s mind using a flashlight and discovers more about Torres’s intentions.
https://www.patreon.com/posts/140465583
The next chapter will be a slight detour from the main plot. It’s already been drafted as I type this.
To read this story before anyone else, head over to my Patreon page and become Spell… B-O-U-N-D, too. The minimum pledge for this type of early access is $5 per month.
An excerpt is available below:
IV
“Do you have a flashlight?” Alexandra asked, holding out her hand to Gálvez without turning her eyes from the prisoner. Her voice was soft, almost casual, the tone of someone asking for a spare cigarette at a party. Gálvez scowled, but produced a battered LED Maglite from his jacket. She took it and felt the weight in her palm, rolling it gently over her fingers. It was heavy, solid enough to crack a skull, a detail she let the prisoner notice as she raised an eyebrow and flicked the end cap experimentally.
The man on the seat watched her warily, his knuckles white around the edge of the bench where his cuffed hands were anchored. He was lean and battered, with a soldier’s haircut and the haunted face common to all conscripts of violence. Alexandra clicked the flashlight on and swept its beam slowly over his face, then circled it through the dim interior, painting sun-bright arcs across the metal and plastic of the police van. She let the light pass over his eyes, quick enough not to blind, slow enough to draw an instinctive flinch.
“This won’t take long,” she said, as much to Gálvez as to the prisoner. She positioned herself in such a way that it shrank their world to a triangle: her, the captive, and the glimmering spot of light.
The prisoner’s Spanish was rapid but slurred with pain. “You have no right—” he began, but Alexandra only smiled and pressed the button again. The beam strobed once, then again. She played with the rhythm: two slow pulses, a pause, then a brighter, longer burst that reflected off the man’s cheekbones and powder-burned eyelids.
“Do you know what I’m going to do to you?” she asked. “Hint: I’m not going to hurt you… unless you want me to.”
The man said nothing.
(…)
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