It was why he had appointed himself in charge of taking care of her.
Yet he had failed so thoroughly.
Something which he vowed never to do again.
There was no way Teresa would ever forgive him for what he’d done. Nor should she. What he had put her through was the ultimate betrayal, something completely unforgivable, and regardless of whether Teresa could ever accept his apology, Micah knew he would never, for as long as he lived, forgive himself.
But he also knew he was going to live, hopefully for a long time, long enough to dedicate the rest of his life to making up for his mistakes.
Dying couldn’t be an option, because he was all that was standing between Teresa and death, and the woman he loved was not going to die there.
Ignoring the sharp pricks from the syringe he had balanced precariously in his fingers, he forced the horrific truth of his abandonment out of his mind and focused.
This had to work.
He had to get out of this bed.
That was all he needed, from there, he would kill anyone who got in his way.
Earlier, after Teresa had been taken away from him, the nurse had returned. It was clear that she was affected by his impassioned plea to Teresa, a plea his girl hadn't responded to. Not that she owed him any sort of response. He’d broken her heart, and he deserved her fury.
Although the nurse hadn't spoken a word, he had, he’d gone all out trying to convince her to untie him. He hadn't kept anything from her, he’d explained who he was, his training, and his years of experience, and promised to make sure she got out, too.
But it hadn't worked.
The woman was too afraid to get out of her own way and assist in her own rescue.
So he’d picked another option. One he wasn't as comfortable with, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Screaming at the woman, he’d scared her enough that she’d dropped her syringe on the bed before hurrying out.
It wasn't much to work with, but it was something.
At first, he’d hoped he might be able to use it to cut through the leather, but although the needle was sharp enough to pierce the leather, trying to use it as a saw brought little progress.
Not giving up, Micah had shifted gears. Now he was trying to use it to undo the buckle.
Already, he was close. He had it mostly lifted, all he had to do was thread it back through and …
Success.
Hope soared inside him.
With his right hand free it didn't take long to free his left hand, and then both of his ankles. Then Micah threw himself off the bed. The drugs had already left his system, and while he hadn't eaten anything or had any water since before he was abducted, his body was still stronger than anyone else’s there.
Having nothing to wear but the flimsy hospital gown was annoying, but he’d do this naked if he had to. Searching the room for something he could use as a weapon, all he could come up with was a scalpel. At least it was sharp, and his hands were a weapon all of their own, but neither allowed him to take out multiple targets all at once like he could if he had a gun on him.
Still, he’d work with what he had, and he’d come out on top.
Teresa’s life depended on it.
Gripping the scalpel in his fist, he headed for the door. While he was yet to see anything outside this room, he knew from Ava, Isabella, and the teams that had raided several of the trafficking ring’s properties that there would likely be armed guards about somewhere. If he wanted to gain the upper hand, he would have to be careful and smart.
All he had to do was get one guard alone, kill him, and take his weapon. After that, it should be easy enough to take out the rest of the guards and any of the doctors or nurses who were there by choice. Once he’d done that, he could find Teresa, make sure she was okay, and call in backup.
Right as he was reaching for the door, he heard a sound on the other side of it.
The only reason he’d survived years as a SEAL was because he had learned quickly to trust his instincts. They could be the difference between life and death. They weren't something to be second-guessed or examined too closely. If they told you something was wrong, then something was wrong.
Hanging back, placing himself where he’d be hidden by the door as the person stepped through it, he watched and waited.
