“What? No fighting back?” Carlos goads me.
All I offer is a grunt as he takes his pound of flesh. Not the first time he’s beaten me stupid.
“You disappoint me. I thought you were better than this.”
Let him think that he’s winning.
Each time his limbs slam into me, my determination solidifies into an invisible dagger. One I’ll soon slip between his fucking ribs. I want him to relish in beating me down one last time before I show him that now… he isn’t the one in control.
I am.
Staring up at the greyscale sky allows my vision to settle, the fuzz at the edges receding after a few short breaths. I don’t makea sound when Carlos hauls my floppy body up, wrapping his big, hairy hand around my throat.
I’m pinned like dangling prey, blood seeping from my nose and mouth. My throbbing body is already going numb. In the aftermath of a fight, I learned to tune everything out. The injuries were the price of success.
“That’s better. You need to relearn your place.”
A whimper sneaks through my blood-stained lips.
“If you survive Señor Gael’s punishment, perhaps you’ll be allowed to live and fight again. But you have to prove your worth to our operation, 768. Earn back his trust.”
I’d rather die.
Right here, right now.
“You may approach now,” Carlos calls to my team. “Take your prize and go.”
One by one, the guns are lowered. Targets disappear. Relief burgeons in me at the sight of Warner releasing Hyland, but not before whispering in his ear. I can see Hyland’s reaction from here—throat bobbing, jaw clenched, nostrils flaring.
As a silent unit, they approach Tom’s lifeless form. Each movement is jerky and tentative, prepared for the scene to ignite at a single move in the wrong direction.
“Watch them abandon you.” Hot breath tickles my ear, driving the torment home. “Now that they’ve got their boy back.”
Kneeling beside Tom, Warner clasps his slack face between his hands, murmuring his name but getting no response. Hyland stands over them in a protective stance, his dark gaze locked on me. Then I find Blaine’s stare.
He nods once. Subtly. Commanding. Full of trust and encouragement. Wiggling my fingers loosens the cuff of the tight black jacket hiding the sheath strapped to my forearm. The same blade he insisted that I wear today.
Cool steel kisses my wrist, sliding free from its hiding spot to nudge my palm. The blade gives me the courage to strain against Carlos’s grip. He peers down at me with a leer.
“Time to go. We have a long journey ahead.”
Lips puckering, I gather saliva on my tongue.Splat. The blood-tinged globule lands in his eye, causing his hand to slacken long enough for me to twist. It’s all I need. The blade is already nestled in my cupped hand.
“I’m going nowhere with you!”
“You little…” Spittle flies from Carlos’s mouth.
Necks are delicate things. Fleshy. Vulnerable. I suppose that’s why they aimed for Josh’s. It’s precisely why I aim the curved switchblade upwards, ramming it into his throat at a perfect right angle.
Soft squelching rewards my efforts as his skin parts like warm butter. Muscles slice without protest. Blood erupts from the wound, granting me immediate gratification as I let the warm moisture spatter on my face like hot oil.
Sticky. Fresh. Sweet.
An unspoiled reward for enduring his punishment.
His arm slides away, body shuddering and lids blown wide open to show the veiny whites of his eyes. I watch every detail. Each second of deathly agony played out in real time. Lips flapping. Saliva bubbling. Muscles slackening.
“You killed the person I was,” I murmur to him. “Now I get to take your life from you too.”
