Chapter Twenty-Two

Safiya

M y head was mercilessly pounding.

Incessant, throbbing, I could not remember the last time I had a headache this bad.

No, not a headache. A migraine.

That was what he had called it when it had happened. After the first car ride, before the first plane ride, it had come on so fast and had hurt so bad, I could not see straight. He had said it would pass.

Stress, he had called it. Dehydration. Extreme… extreme…

Extreme circumstances .

That was what he had said.

He .

Him.

Migraine.

Inhaling, trying to remember what he had said to do. Dark room, ice… medicine.

Yes , medicine.

Now I remembered. He had given me medicine, but I had not trusted it. I had never taken any medicine before.

Now, I wanted it.

The throbbing behind my eyes growing, I went to reach up to put pressure on my forehead, but my wrist smarted and… nothing moved.

My wrist.

My other wrist.

My hands tingled?

Nothing moved?

For one single heartbeat, it was a delayed reaction.

Then I sucked in my next breath, my eyes opened, I saw nothing, but everything came back.

The drive, the forest, the cabin, the men— oh no .

Did he get away?

Straining my neck, I looked around, but I still could not see anything, and the panic, the fear of the dark, it started to choke me, and then I felt it. The covering over my eyes.

Blindfolded.

I tried to move my arms.

Handcuffed.

But it was not only my hands that were restrained. Something was binding my thighs and ankles, and oh please, let him have driven away .

"She's awake," a disconnected voice grumbled.

"Who are you?" I was not supposed to talk. I knew this. Do not talk, Safiya. Do not talk . But panic and the darkness and my own fears betrayed me as my voice rasped across my dry mouth with a useless question. "Where am I?"

Another irritated voice, one I recognized from the house, spoke. "Give the bitch water. We need her alive."

Shuffling sounded, then the crinkle of plastic. A moment later, a hard rim was pressed against my mouth.

Jerking my head away in fear, I pressed my lips tightly together. Whatever was being offered, no matter how thirsty I got, I would not put anything in my mouth that they offered me. I already could not remember anything between the cabin and how I had gotten here. I was not going to let them drug me again.

A large hand landed on the top of my head and twisted, forcing me to turn back as the first male voice issued an order. "Drink." The plastic met my lips again.

Shortened breaths going in and out through my nose, my limbs trembling, I refused.

The hand left my head a split second before fingers ruthlessly gripped my lower face, dug into my flesh, and my clenched jaw was yanked open. "I said drink ."

Water poured over my lips and down my throat through my forcibly opened mouth.

Sputtering, unable to breathe, involuntarily swallowing, a new fear drowned me.

Dying by choking.

All these years, every violent way I had imagined how my death would have come if not for a Navy SEAL rescuing me from that darkened hell, I had never once thought of this—a faceless, nameless man pouring water down my throat until I choked and drowned.

Tears soaking my covered eyes, my throat burning, my body lurching with every gag, I tried and failed not to swallow. I tried and failed to breathe.

Before I could wrench out of the punishing grip holding me hostage, the fingers digging into my jaw left my face, and a hand whacked my back with a hard slap right between my shoulder blades.

"Don't fucking drown the bitch. He's not gonna come after dead merchandise."

Another hard smack landed on my back. "She's not fucking drowning, and he'll show no matter what we do to her."

"I'm not saying it again. He doesn't show, we don't get paid."

"Then we should've grabbed him when we had the chance," the second voice argued.

"Not the fucking mission. He wanted the asshole coming to his own turf, bringing whatever fucking backup he's been using. Then we can take them all out at once, collect our payday, and get the fuck out of here."

A wet, shuddering breath wheezed through my lungs, and I coughed up water as I realized a horror worse than my own death.

I did the only thing I could think of.

I lied.

"You may as well kill me now." The burn of fear scratched my throat and soul. "He will never come for me."

The voice from the cabin snorted. "Right. Like he didn't come for you last night, taking down three of our team before we fucking disabled him."

Last night? Disabled? "I do not know what you are talking—"

"Fuck this."

A sharp sting jabbed into my upper arm.