Page 89

Artemus guides me to a garage where an ominous black van waits. His grip tightens around my arm, his fingers digging painfully into my flesh. He turns to face me, his eyes blazing with fury as he takes a step forward until our bodies touch.
He stares down at me for what feels like an eternity before finally speaking. “I promise you this: when you get to your destination, you’ll regret the day you crossed paths with me. Enjoy your trip. I’ll see you in a few days.” His words, laced with venom, chill me to the bone.
The guards pull me roughly toward the waiting van. The back door opens, and I’m shoved roughly inside. The cold metal floor scrapes my knees as they push me in. The doors close with an ominous thud that echoes through the hollow space.
That echo fades into silence, leaving only the rumbling of the engine and my rapid heartbeat.
In the stifling darkness, time stretches out. The steady hum of the van’s engine is the only sound accompanying my shallow, measured breaths, but we don’t move. Allowing myself a brief moment of vulnerability—a moment to completely fall apart—I press my forehead against the cold metal wall and cry. My chest heaves with sobs, tears soaking the fabric, but the solace of grief is fleeting; the need to be strong crashes down once again, and I carefully reconstruct my emotional fortifications, steeling myself for what’s to come.
The van door suddenly swings open, piercing the heavy darkness inside with a harsh sliver of light. A body is heaved inside, landing with a sickening thud as I scoot out of the way. My heart seizes as I recognize the slumped form: Alec.
His body is limp, his breaths shallow and uneven. His face is hidden by a curtain of disheveled hair, but I can still make out his handsome features, despite the unnaturally dark bruises marring his skin.
As I reach out, my fingers tremble, shaking off the last vestiges of the brave facade I carefully crafted. I push back his hair to reveal the brutal canvas of his face. The sight of his swollen eyes, normally lively and animated, now sealed shut under a ghastly hue of purple and blue, tears at me. His lower lip, split and crusted with drying blood, and the livid bloom of a bruise across his cheekbone only add to the horrifying sight.
Every instinct within me screams to comfort him, to soothe his pain, but a realization strikes me like a bolt of lightning—I’m the anchor pulling him down into this abyss.
He suffers because of me.
What solace can I possibly offer when it is my presence, my connection to him, that causes his suffering?
Guilt wraps around me, a tangible, suffocating weight. It’s my name that Artemus uses as a weapon, as leverage, to pry out secrets about the Guardian Hostage Rescue Specialists from Alec. Yet, amidst the tsunami of guilt and dread, a sliver of relief manages to pierce through.
Alec’s here.
He’s alive.
His ragged breathing is the sweetest sound, a lifeline in the crushing silence.
“Alec,” I whisper, my voice tremulous and hoarse.
I trace a gentle finger along the edge of a particularly nasty bruise. He doesn’t stir, but his breath hitches slightly, an indication he’s still clinging to consciousness. I grip his hand tightly. The bruises on his knuckles are already starting to darken and the blood is dry. “We’ll make it out of here, okay?”
I don’t know if he hears me, but it feels important to speak the words, to cast them into the void like a promise.
The van lurches forward, its sudden momentum tossing us against the cold, unyielding metal wall. The deafening screech of tires punctuates the silence, gnawing at the edges of my already frayed nerves. The acrid smell of burning rubber and the bitter tang of fear permeate the confined space, making each breath a struggle.
All I have now is Alec, his injuries, and the growing desperation gnawing at my insides. Yet, as I deal with the insidious pull of despair, I dig deep, refusing to let it consume me. I draw Alec closer, his battered head finding a cradle in my lap. The taste of salty tears on my lips is a grim reminder of our reality, but I remember the defiance in that woman’s eyes and the silent promise I made.
In the back of that van, it feels as if we’re lost in an abyss, where time loses all meaning. Minutes become hours and hours meld into a continuous stream of nothingness, punctuated only by the jarring motions of the van and the intermittent groans of its straining engine.
The rumble of the van over the uneven road vibrates through the floor and settles in my bones, leaving me battered and bruised.
Alec stirs and pulls me back from the brink of my spiraling thoughts. A low, agonized moan escapes him, its sound shattering the somber silence. Relief floods me as his swollen eyes flutter open, a beacon of resilience amidst the torment.
His voice, a raspy whisper of broken syllables, punctuates the stillness, “Where are we?”
“I don’t know,” I reply, my voice barely a murmur above the hum of the engine, “We’re in some kind of van.”
His eyes meet mine, flickering with the barest hint of understanding before closing again, a grimace of pain etches deeper lines into his already bruised face.
“Are you okay?” My hand grazes the gritty fabric of his shirt, soaked with blood. Fear snakes its way up my spine, making my voice quiver.
A grunt is his only response. He moves stiffly, the aftermath of a nasty beating. I reach out to steady him, but he recoils with a wince.
“What happened?” His voice is thick and groggy.
“They removed your trackers.” I drop the bombshell quietly, fear knotting my stomach. “What does it mean?”