Chapter 8

Pain exploded in my gut,hot and searing, and for a moment, the world spun out of control as I blinked my eyes open. Darkness closed around me, but a bobbing torch showed me glimpses of just how fucked we were. The door was shut, locking us in, the walls were blank. Nothing. Blood seeped through my clothes, fire burned in my belly, and I shoved my hands over the wound, pressing so hard I yelled out in pain. Ryder was beside me, his hands hovering, unsure where to touch without causing more pain. His gaze was fixed on the wound, his face illuminated by the small narrow beam of light, the grim reality of the situation written all over his face. Then, he was supporting me, holding me up, keeping me from collapsing.

“Talk to me, Navy. How bad is it?” His voice was tense, his gaze scanning me, assessing the situation, attempting to lift my hands.

Ryder’s focus was laser-sharp. “We need to stop this bleeding, Navy,” he instructed, tearing off his shirt and bunching it against the wound. “Push hard.”

I pressed the fabric against the wound, the pain incredible. Each touch was like a jolt of fire, but I knew it was vital to stem the flow of blood. I had to do this.

“Harder,” he snapped, his hand covered mine to ensure I applied enough pressure.

“Fuck you, Army!” I yelled.

“Fuck you back, Navy,” he yelled at me.

I bristled and snapped like a trapped dog, and god, I tried to move—anything to get his hand off me, but he wasn’t leaving me alone. He used his other hand to rummage through his camo pockets and pulled out his IFAK. The individual first aid kit might have something, but not enough to reverse this damage. He shoved something into my mouth, a nylon knife sheath. “Bite down.”

Lying there, the pain engulfing me, I could feel Ryder’s hands on me, frantic, but skilled, as he tried to stem the flow of blood. His touch was firm, packing the wound. I wanted to tell him it was no use, that a gut shot was a slow, inevitable death, and wasn’t something you just patched up, especially not in a place like this, but my voice was lost amidst the waves of pain.

“Stay with me, August.” Ryder’s voice was a distant anchor in the haze clouding my mind. I felt him ease me to the floor, his movements careful, deliberate. Heard him cursing, his weight heavy—was he injured as well?

The coldness of the floor seeped through my clothes, an icy contrast to the burning agony in my abdomen. I wanted to fight, to cling to consciousness, but it was like trying to hold onto smoke. Everything was slipping away, the edges of my world blurring and fading.

“Hemostatic dressing,” he said, as I screamed around the sheath. He covered my mouth, pushed me down, and I fought and scrabbled, and then—thank fuck—I blacked out.

When I came back, he was talking, my head cradled in his lap.

“Hey, you’re back,” Ryder repeated, his tone almost light, as if it wasn’t him that shook me awake. “You’re tough, Navy; you frogs can handle this shit in your sleep. Come on. Stay with me. Help’s on the way. We just need to keep the bleeding under control until we can get you back.”

His reassurance was a small comfort, but in that dimly lit confined space, his presence was the one thing keeping me anchored to reality. The pain was a constant companion, but so was Ryder. I tried to grip his hand, both of us slippery with blood.

“Annie,” I managed.

“She’s okay. Luca got her away.”

“He left… left you…”

“What? You mean Luca left me? Oh yeah, that was absolutely the plan; that’s how it goes. Annie was our priority. One of us was always staying behind to cover the six. That was always going to be the one who didn’t have Annie.”

Pain coursed through me with unrelenting ferocity, like acid dripping through every vein, and blood loss was making it difficult to stay focused, only there was one thing that remained clear amidst the haze of agony: Annie.

Make sure she’s safe.

With each labored breath, I fought against the encroaching darkness, the urge to succumb to the pain and let go. Ryder was there, his presence a steady force in the chaos, and I needed him to live.

“Are you shot?” I managed.

“Fucked knee, dislocated shoulder, avoided all the bullets actually leaving holes in me,” he listed.

“You’ll live,” I rasped, my voice a whisper, strained with agony, each word punctuated by a sharp stab of fire. “You have to… get… Annie… to her new family. Promise me.”

Ryder leaned in closer, ensuring he caught every word I said, but his reaction was immediate and intense, his voice laced with a blend of anger and determination. “Listen to me,” he snapped back, his eyes burning with resolve. “You’re not giving up, Navy. You’re getting out of here.”

I could see the fierce commitment in his expression, refusing to accept the resignation in my voice. Despite my overwhelming pain and fading strength, Ryder’s words ignited a flicker of fight within me. Then, he shook me a little, harder, and the blackness around me eased for a moment.

“Make sure… Annie… I’m dying…”

“Fuck. You’re not dying!” He leaned closer, his grip on my arm firm. “You hear me? You’re a fighter, Navy. You’ve made it this far, and you’re not done yet.”

His words cut through the fog of pain and despair, reaching the soldier still alive within me. Ryder was so wrong. I couldn’t surrender to death, but it would come for me soon.

“Promise me!” I cursed my failing voice and closed my eyes, my head spinning.

“I’m promising nothing, you hear me. We’re going home.”

He didn’t see; he couldn’t understand. I’d killed because I could. I’d sold my soul to the devil for revenge. “Not going… home,” I managed to force out.

“Stay awake, feel the pain, tell me where it hurts, Navy.”

I could barely manage a response, pain clouding my thoughts, but I tried to offer him something, anything to go on. “Gut. It’s… bad,” I gasped out, the effort to speak sending a fresh wave of agony through me.

“Keep talking. I’m gonna check the room. I wanna hear you talking. You got me, Navy?”

“I… I can’t… ”

He shifted away from me, propped my head against something, his jacket? I could hear Ryder, clumsy, loud, his hands patting along the walls, searching for any sign of a hidden exit or a weakness we could exploit. I listened to him talk.

“Nothing. Why build a panic room without a light, and no food, or water, or a way to contact the outside world. You with me, Navy? Come on… talk to me. Tell me.”

I tried to talk, blood in my mouth tasting like iron—was I bleeding there? Was it a scent more than a taste? Why was there a room with nothing in it?

“Not… panic…” I managed.

He went to a crouch next to me. “Yeah, I get the same feeling. Not a panic room, a lockup, a safety for that Amos fucker.” He pressed on the packing and hissed, and my eyesight blurred. “Bleeding has slowed; shit’s doing its stuff.”

“Too… late… ” I forced.

He sat back down to cradle my head. “Talk to me.” He shook me hard, and I cursed him. “Come on! Why the SEALs, Navy? You one of these kids who liked paddling pools?”

I wanted to tell him to stop. I didn’t want to talk or listen to his shit. I wanted to die.

Why wouldn’t he let me die? I could just close my eyes and?—

“Water, am I right? Okay then,” he continued, as if we were having a reasonable discussion over coffee and donuts. “So here we are, Navy and Army, in a box, a messed-up situation, and yet again, Army is on top.”

I clenched my fist, wanted to thump him, weak as a newborn, I had to lie there.

“That fucker knew what he was doing when he pulled the trigger,” he rambled. “Don’t you think? Gut shots are slow killers, gives you time to contemplate dying. What a fucking asshole.” He shook me. “Come on, Navy, answer me. He knew, right?”

“Mmph.”

“He could have gone for a clean shot, right between the eyes, an instant end. But he knew the pain it would cause, and he relished in it. I saw his face, he celebrated shooting you, loved it, reveled in your pain and you dying. So, you gonna lie here and let him win?”

“No… fuck, no,” I managed to gasp out, each word punctuated by a jolt of pain. The darkness in my vision was oppressive, making every breath a struggle.

Ryder’s voice was a low rumble in the dark. “Then pull yourself the fuck together, Navy, because you need to finish this. We need to finish this. Fucker locked me in a room, and I’ll get out, and then, gut him like a fish. You with me, Navy?”

Yes, I wanted that. I wanted to know why he’d kept Annie, why he’d taken James from me, how had I not seen through him, why hadn’t I seen the small man was pulling the strings? Was I that committed to getting Annie out that I hadn’t seen Amos as a danger?

“Navy? Talk to me.”

I tried to move, to help in any way I could, but the white-hot blaze of agony consumed all other thoughts. I reached out for something to hold, something to pull myself up, and he gripped my hand tight, held it so I might never be able to let go. The room was a tomb, a dark, enclosed space that threatened to be our end. But I wasn’t ready to give up, not yet. There had to be a way out, a chance for escape.

In my fading consciousness, thoughts of Annie swirled. James’s sweet girl, whose life had been turned upside down, whose innocence had been stolen. I’d fought so hard to bring the whole thing down, wanting revenge, wanting to free her.

Finally, I’d found her.

And now, as I was dying, the bitter realization was made real—it was best I was gone. Annie wouldn’t have a broken, murdering ghost of a man haunting her steps. A desperate urgency surged within me—one last thing I had to say.

“Find… where they… ” I coughed, and there was blood again. “… took Annie,” I managed to gasp out, each word a battle against the pain that raged through my body.

“Stop talking,” Ryder snapped, pressing down on my belly, the pain so sharp I think I screamed.

“No… tell her… James loved her.” Saying it was excruciating, not only because of the physical agony, but because of the weight of those words, the finality they carried.

“You can tell her yourself. Help’s on the way. You hear me?”

“S’okay,” I slurred. “Annie’s okay… tell her.”

“Shut your mouth,” Ryder snarled, then cursed and thumped the wall.

No. Please.It was important, more than anything, that Annie knew about her dad.

The effort of speaking was monumental, leaving me drained and hollow. I tried to focus, to cling to the fading edges of life, but each breath was a battle, each minute a war I was losing. In the dim light of the room, with the cold grip of death inching closer, I found a twisted comfort that I wasn’t dying alone, and I regretted it.

As darkness edged my vision, I heard someone in the distance, calling my name, telling me to fight and stay with him. It sounded like Ryder, but it was so far away, a lifeline just out of reach. I wanted to respond, to tell him to stop. But the words wouldn’t come, my voice lost in the void that was claiming me.

So, I lay there, in the cold embrace of the floor, and I could feel the last tendrils of consciousness slipping away, and my grip on Ryder’s hand weakening. I’d done what I could, fought as hard as I could. Now, it was up to Ryder to tell her how much James had loved her.

It had to be enough.

Something thumped on the door, loud clanging.

“They’re here, Navy. We’re gonna be okay.”