Page 86 of A Wolf of War

Masked men flooded into the garage, monsters with rifles, shouting to each other over the ringing gunshots. The driver barely had time to draw before his chest bloomed red, his gun clattering uselessly to the concrete. He crumpled, lifeless, as his blood seeped across the floor in a dark pool.

Willow stumbled back a step, her vision tunneling, the urge to run screaming through every nerve in her body. Her legs twitched, muscles ready to bolt—but hands were already on her, rough and unyielding.

“No—No!”she shrieked, thrashing, nails clawing at fabric, skin, anything. But she was dragged backward, her shoes skidding uselessly against the floor.

A van door yawned open behind her, black and gaping like a mouth. She was shoved hard, her body slamming against cold metal as she landed in the back. The door slammed shut before she could catch her breath, sealing her inside.

The last thing she saw of the outside world was Lachlan bleeding on the ground, his face pale, eyes still locked on hers even as she was stolen away.

Her chest heaved, lungs burning as the van jolted forward. The metal walls rattled with every turn, every bounce of the tires. She pushed herself upright, clutching the side of the van with trembling fingers, her eyes darting?—

Two men loomed over her. Masks half-pulled up, their faces rough, eyes glinting with cruel amusement.

One of them stepped forward, tilting his head as he looked her over. “What a quick, little slut,” he sneered. “Looks like he knocked her up. She’s pregnant.”

Her blood ran cold.

The other man barked out a laugh, cruel and sharp. “Not anymore.”

The words barely registered before his boot connected, hard and merciless, with her lower stomach.

White-hot agony ripped through her. Willow folded, curling instinctively around the pain, a choked scream tearing from her throat as she hit the floor. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Every nerve lit up with fire, her arms wrapping protectively around her middle even as her body convulsed from the impact.

Laughter rang in her ears, echoing, blurring with the roar of blood rushing through her head. Tears burned her eyes. She couldn’t move, couldn’t fight—not through this pain. Her body shook, sweat beading on her skin as her vision smeared.

Willow could feel something wet between her legs, a sickening gush.

She forced her head up, blinking through the haze. Another figure shifted in the shadows of the van, sitting further back, too still. Too familiar. Her stomach dropped for an entirely new reason, icy fear cutting through the heat of her pain.

Her lips trembled. The word scraped out of her, broken, disbelieving.

“You?”

And then she waskicked again.

Harder.

And then the world slipped from her fingers, blackness pulling her under as the van thundered down the road.