Page 15 of Bound By Thorns
She sighed heavily and looked around as if searching for hidden cameras. I knew Garret didn’t have cameras here because he didn’t want his dirty deeds to escape this room.
“Noel.” She whispered. “He is Tyka’s right hand. But he helped one prisoner escape once. Or at least I think he did. Tell him that your family is poor. He might be able to help then.”
I nodded.
“I’ll come back for you, Martha.” I told her as she walked towards my door.
“You don’t have to, Kaylan,” she looked over her shoulders toward me. “Maybe you can find what happened to her?”
I gave her a determined nod and she left. It wasn’t going to be immediate that I planned and escaped. I needed to find a way to help Logan too.
FIVE
Logan
Torture had become a numbing routine, the days blending into a continuous cycle of pain and endurance.
It was a rather mild day for torture today. I was reaching my third week here, and I hadn’t yet died. I was fairly proud of myself considering people died within the first two weeks of their captivity in enemy camps. Well, I wouldn’t consider Kaylan as part of that statistic considering she was not a captive. Why did I keep thinking of her this past week?
All she had done was give me the much-needed warmth to not let me die. Kaylan’s presence, or rather the memory of her unexpected warmth, haunted me. Was it genuine concern, or just a ploy to keep their information source alive? The doubt gnawed at me.
The evening hit steadily. I could barely feel the carvings on my forearms, from Tyka and his men. One of the cuts felt a bit too deep, so I had one of the bandages from my back repurposed.
Kaylan had walked past my cell tonight, unbothered by my new wounds. I guessed my injuries were too minor for her.
I did give one piece of information to get out of the torture today. I told them the location of two of our safe houses in Toronto, except for the HQ. I thought it would be me giving them a lot of valuable information away, but still helping them with some of our tracks and plans.
There was no way for them to track Squad 6 from there, and I didn’t want to sit back and get sliced up by Tyka.
God, the hope that they remained hidden and safe in Blackthorn’s office was the fragile thread I clung to.
Another day passed by in a blur of punches and blinding pain. I thought I’d damage my vocal cords by screaming this much.
At night, I sat in my cell, waiting for Kaylan. I assumed she would come to treat me given my injuries were more than just cuts and bruises. I was pretty sure a few of my bones were broken and the nasty bruise the size of a football on my ribs wasn’t a good sign. But she didn’t show up.
I didn’t see her the next day either. Three days turned into seven, and with each passing moment, an inexplicable worry tightened its grip on me. Tyka hadn’t mentioned her at all, and Garret paid a visit twice,withoutKaylan.
She, of all people, didn’t deserve my worry. Yet, there it was, an undeniable void in her absence, a strange longing for the woman I should despise. And for some odd reason, I missed her.
Kaylan
Not here. Not now. Not yet.
He knew. I ran to the bathroom yesterday, after one of his ‘sessions’ with me, and puked my guts out. When I entered the room again, I could hear the gears in Garret’s head turning. He knew what it meant.
So, he did what anyone with his mind would do, he punched me in my abdomen. He took me to one of the chambers in the basement, hung me up on the ceiling, the shackles digging into my wrists, and then he rammed his fists into my stomach like I was a punching bag.
Then he knocked me unconscious by slamming my jaw sideways for good measure. I didn’t wake up for hours. When I did wake up, I was in the infirmary.
My legs hung in the air, my lower body exposed, and raw with pain. I woke up screaming and wailing at the gut-tearing pain of someone twisting my insides.
I knew this procedure all too well. But they didn’t have any anesthesia here, or accurate sterile tools to conduct the procedure. So here I was, at the mercy of uneducated men, butchering my body, mutilating my insides because taking me to a hospital would risk exposure.
For three whole days, I couldn’t get out of bed, not because I was ordered to stay put, but because my body simply wouldn’t let me move. Even the smallest task like reaching for a glass of water felt like an impossible feat, each movement sending waves of pain through my battered frame. Martha, bless her heart, took care of me during those days, changing my clothes and sheets whenever I soiled them.
Garret had steered clear, thankfully. My filthy appearance must have been too repulsive for his tastes.
My mind, restless and heavy with worry, kept circling back to Logan. I tortured myself with thoughts of what horrors he might be enduring without me there to offer some semblance of relief. The idea that he might need medical attention and wasn’t receiving any because I wasn’t there to tend to his wounds filled me with a deep, gnawing dread. Was he still alive?
