Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

January 28 th

6:18 A.M.

It had been a long, cold, terrifying night.

Lucy's head throbbed with a vicious headache from being knocked out when she and Zander were abducted, and she had no doubt that she had another concussion.

Not a good thing for any person to have two head injuries so close together, but for somebody like her, whose brain malfunctioned all on its own, without prompting, sending her into seizures for no identifiable reason, it was particularly dangerous.

But worse than the cold, worse than knowing what was coming, worse than the pain and the fear, was feeling Zander slip further and further away from her.

He could barely look at her and had uttered nothing more than the bare minimum to answer a direct question, although he'd ignored her at first when she'd woken up and begged him to speak to her so she knew he wasn't dead.

Those minutes when she wasn't sure if he had survived the initial kidnapping were the worst.

When he didn't answer her, she was positive it was because she'd already lost him.

Then finally, he'd told her he was alive. He'd told her who had taken them, although since they weren't in the jungle she'd kind of figured it out all on her own anyway. And that was about it. After giving her the briefest of rundowns on what would likely happen to them so she could be prepared, he'd just shut down.

She got it.

Really she did.

Already he blamed himself for the deaths of his teammates at the hand of Zimraan Mostafa's brother, and to be back there, with her, this was like reliving his worst nightmare.

So, while she understood his need to withdraw from her and start building emotional boundaries he wouldn't allow her to cross, it didn't mean it didn't hurt.

Because it did hurt.

A lot.

She was already losing him even though he was still alive, and at the worst possible time. She needed him right now, needed his comfort and reassurance even if it was in vain. And she knew that he needed her, too. He needed to know that she wasn't angry with him and didn't blame him. Whatever happened to them was not his fault. If she could take that assurance and force it into his brain, she'd do it in a heartbeat.

This was not Zander's fault.

He'd been doing his job when he and his team were captured, and he'd been doing his job when he gathered the intel on the weapons deal so Zafir Mostafa could be caught or killed. If the terrorist's brother had vowed vengeance that was not on his head.

But how could she convince him of that when he wouldn't even look at her?

As much as she wanted to beg and plead with him not to shut her out, that if she was going to suffer and die then she at least wanted to hold onto the connection they were forging, she didn't. Zander had to survive how he had to survive, and she couldn't demand that he put her needs above his own.

So, instead, she sat huddled in the corner, knees pulled up to her chest, arm wrapped around her legs, her body shaking so badly her muscles ached. They hadn't dressed to be outside in the cold since they would only be inside at Prey, and her jeans and sweater were no match for icy temperatures.

Her mouth was dry with that cottony feeling of dehydration, but she could do nothing about it. It wasn't like she was going to call out to the men inside the houses surrounding the courtyard. They didn't care if she was dehydrated or cold. They'd brought her there maybe because they knew she was connected to Zander or just because she'd been with him at the time, but whatever the purpose, she was there to be tortured and killed, her comfort was of little consequence to them.

Although she couldn't know for sure, she was pretty sure she hadn't been brought by accident. Somehow, Zimraan knew that she and Zander were a couple, and that was why she was there.

Which made it all worse.

There was no chance in hell that Zander wasn't going to blame himself for this.

Lucy ached to reach out and soothe him however she could. They could have spent the hours comforting one another, talking through what had happened, who could have leaked intel to the Syrian terrorist, anything to pass the hours so she hadn't had to spend them alone.

Now the first rays of sunlight were beginning to streak the sky, and Lucy could honestly say she had never felt this alone in her entire life.

With more light filling the courtyard, she could better make out Zander's huddled form in the opposite corner. His big body was curled in on itself and she knew everything would have been just the tiniest bit better if she could touch him. Offer comfort and take some comfort for herself.

Anything had to be better than this.

Clamping her teeth together was the only way to prevent herself from calling out to him. It hadn't taken her long to figure out that Zander didn't want to talk to her, that he was only going to give her the absolute bare minimum of answers, and after a while, she'd just given up trying to talk to him.

Shifting slightly, Lucy tried to find a more comfortable position even though she knew in reality there was none. Her body was still bruised and sore from the crash, and sitting on the hard ground out in the cold all night long was the last thing it needed.

Still, when a door opened, Lucy curled tighter in on herself, much preferring the cold, and thirst, and loneliness to whatever came next.

She wasn't the only one who had heard the door opening because Zander suddenly straightened and rose to his feet. The expression on his face was nothing short of fierce, and it made her shaking increase. She'd hate to have that look aimed in her direction. If ever there was a picture to go alongside the if-looks-could-kill saying this had to be it. In fact, she half expected daggers of fire to come shooting out of his eyes.

Half a dozen men came streaming out of the house, and it was only because Zander's gaze immediately zeroed in on one of them that she knew who Zimraan Mostafa was.

Barely more than a boy, the young man was only nineteen years old, but it was clear he looked up to his older brother and had believed in Zafir's fight because he wanted to continue it. Take over the reins and presumably attempt to carry out whatever the plans were once he finished on his personal mission of vengeance.

"You let the woman go, she has nothing to do with this, Zimraan," Zander said, his confident voice sending spikes of fear through her.

No .

She wasn't going anywhere.

She'd promised to stay by Zander's side no matter what.

It was a promise she intended to keep.

Only when she shakily pushed to her feet to tell him that he couldn't try to sacrifice his life for hers, he shot her such a hard look that she stayed right where she was.

Zimraan laughed like Zander had just said the funniest thing he'd ever heard. "I don't think so," he said in accented English. "An eye for an eye, isn't that the saying? You took away the most important person in my life so I will do the same for you. This is your woman, yes?"

When Zimraan turned to look at her, it took every ounce of strength she possessed not to cower before him. This man got off on inflicting pain and suffering, he wanted her to be afraid, wanted her to fear him and what he was going to do to her.

While she absolutely did, she also wanted to be strong for Zander, not make this any worse on him than it had to be. Already he was blaming himself, and if he had to witness her fear it would destroy him.

So, she stayed where she was, met Zimraan's dark gaze, and refused to flinch.

The young man's eyes narrowed in irritation, and he turned back to Zander. "My brother allowed me to watch what he did with your team, so I could learn and one day earn my position as his second in command."

"A real man doesn't take his issues out on a woman. Are you not a real man, Zimraan?" Zander asked as though he were trying to provoke the volatile terrorist.

Stiffening, Zimraan took a few steps toward Zander like he didn't know he was taunting a lion waiting to pounce. "I am nineteen. I am a man. And because you killed Zafir, I am now the leader of the resistance. We will annihilate your country. You think you can dictate to the world how everybody should live, but you will be destroyed."

With lightning-fast speed, Zander surprised her, Zimraan, and the others when he suddenly leaped, kicking out with his legs and sweeping the young man to the ground. Her warrior wrapped his legs around Zimraan's neck and began to squeeze the life out of the young terrorist.

Then the other five men descended on Zander, hitting him, kicking him, striking him with the butts of their weapons, and attacking him like they intended to kill him right here and now.

January 28 th

7:01 A.M.

Each blow felt like success because it was one less strike Lucy would have to take.

As long as he kept Zimraan's attention on him, Lucy was a little safer.

With his legs wrapped around Zimraan's neck, it meant his arms were still free and he was delivering at least as many hits as he was receiving.

Wasn't like he was going to win this fight, there were five of them to his one, and more men were spilling out of the houses, but at least he was going to deliver a message. Mess with what was his and suffer the consequences.

All night he'd ached to be able to hold Lucy in his arms, cocoon her cold body with his own, soothing at least one of her problems, but every time he glanced at her the realization that she was there only because of him hit so hard he could barely breathe.

In the end, he hadn't been able to look at her at all without his entire body freezing up on him.

After several minutes his body had received too many hits to keep fighting, chained up as he was. If he'd been able to get his hands on a weapon this would be a different story, but Zimraan's men were at least trained well enough to know to never give up your weapon no matter what. They had maintained firm grips on them while hitting and kicking him.

Too bad, because if he had gotten one, this would all be over.

He'd kill every last one of them, blow off his own foot if it was the only way to get free and get Lucy out of there.

But now a particularly vicious hit to his head had him loosening his hold on Zimraan and sinking down onto the dirt.

As soon as he was free, the young man, not really more than a boy, scrambled away, rubbing at the red marks on his neck.

Satisfaction gave Zander back a little of his strength.

While he might be outnumbered, he had proven to Zimraan and his men that even chained up he was a legitimate threat.

"You will not win, Zander Madden," Zimraan said as he shoved to his feet, swaying a little as he did so. "Just like you watched my brother kill your men, you will now watch me kill your woman. I love the sounds of a woman's screams, don't you? So pretty and melodic. Like a bird caught in a trap. I once caught a bird, ripped out every one of its feathers, then peeled off its skin until its little heart gave out and it died. I was six at the time and my skills have since vastly improved."

The psychopathic terrorist nodded at a few of his men who stalked across the courtyard to where Lucy was sitting.

To her credit, she didn't cower before them, instead, she stuck her chin out and looked up at them with contempt. The men sneered at her, and as they grabbed her and dragged her to her feet, they made sure to make their grips crushing if the brief flash of pain on her face was anything to go by.

Marching her over to where Zimraan was carefully remaining outside the circle of Zander's reach, Lucy's gaze darted to his, and for a moment, it shone with every emotion she felt for him before hardening as she looked up at the man who held their fates in the palm of his hand.

Zimraan gave him a wicked smile before turning his attention to Lucy. "You are a beautiful woman, yes?" he asked as he trailed a fingertip down Lucy's cheek and then across her bottom lip.

Zander knew what she was going to do a split second before she did it.

Even if there was time for him to tell her not to do it, he wasn't sure if he would.

Because they both knew they weren't walking out of here alive.

They would be tortured and then when Zimraan got bored and felt like he had avenged his brother's death sufficiently, they would be killed.

If his woman wanted to get in a little payback of her own, who was he to stop her?

Lucy's mouth opened, and her straight white teeth clamped down on the finger on her lip before Zimraan even knew what was happening.

The man's howl of pain was like music to both of their ears, and even as the terrorist jerked backward, grabbing her broken arm and twisting it up behind her back, Lucy gave a triumphant smile.

It felt good to be able to fight back even if you weren't going to be able to get yourself out of the situation. And Zander was glad there was still fight left in his woman because he was still going to take advantage of any opportunity that might prevent itself.

"I see you need to be taught your place, woman ," Zimraan sneered. Then he looked to his men. "Take her to the table, I'm ready to get started."

Four men grabbed Lucy, pulling her over to the table as she fought against them. While her moves showed that she had been trained well in self-defense, unfortunately, you could do nothing when you were outnumbered. And Lucy was a woman, smaller and physically weaker by design, injured as she was she didn't stand a chance, but he was proud as hell that she fought with everything she had and landed several good strikes before the men had her lying flat on her back on the table with her wrists and ankles chained in place.

Wandering over to the table, Zimraan picked up a knife and held it with the point pressed to the tip of his finger. He must have pressed hard enough to break the skin because a small drop of blood was visible.

"I do like my women subservient, but there is something special about it when they scream, isn't there?" Zimraan asked, his tone conversational like they were discussing something as mundane as the weather. "I also like them covered in blood. There is something about the color of blood that I have always found soothing."

The young man was a pure psychopath, there was no other way to describe him. While Zafir had certainly enjoyed inflicting pain on others, there had been something more controlled about him. He was motivated more by the idea of money and power, whereas his younger brother seemed to be more led by his need to hurt other people.

It made Zimraan that much more dangerous.

A bloodthirsty person would go to great lengths to satisfy that craving, and Zander was already able to see how this was all going to play out.

"Blood is a curious thing, is it not?" Zimraan asked as he took the knife and used it to slice Lucy's sweater open from the bottom hem right up to the band around the neck. The young man peeled the material back exposing the creamy white skin of her stomach and chest. Thankfully, the bra she was wearing covered her breasts so she wasn't bared to these sick, twisted men, but it seemed like Zimraan wasn't interested in anything but his craving for blood.

Moving the knife, he pressed the tip to the base of her neck, and much like he'd done when he cut her sweater open, he dragged the tip down, following the same path, until it stopped just below her navel. Blood immediately began to bubble out of the wound, visible even to him from where he was sitting a good ten feet away.

Other than sucking in a breath as Zimraan had trailed the knife through her skin, Lucy hadn't made a sound or moved at all. The wound wasn't deep, probably wouldn't even leave a scar, or at least not much of one, but it still had to hurt, especially with the cold wind blowing against it.

"It looks like nothing more than thicker water, and yet it is so vital," Zimraan continued as he moved the knife, this time lying the whole blade sideways against the flesh on Lucy's stomach. Right how you'd hold a knife if you were preparing to skin someone.

Zander's entire body went taut with fear.

He was consumed with the need to save his woman, and yet he was powerless to do anything to stop this from happening.

Just as he'd been powerless to save his team.

"Without blood we die. So simple. Skin is also a curious thing, don't you think? It keeps our entire body together, holds everything in, and yet when removed, it seems so inconsequential."

With that, he slid the sharp blade with pinpoint precision through the skin on Lucy's stomach, removing a good-sized portion with the skill of someone who performed skin grafts for a living.

The scream that was torn from his girl's lips was a sound that would haunt Zander for an eternity. Dead or alive, that sound would forever echo in his ears.