Page 36 of Kill Shot

Salvation and Damnation

Seb

The world was ending—or it certainly sounded like it anyway—with a rumbling that made every bone in Seb’s body vibrate uncomfortably, reminding him just how sore and bruised his muscles were. If he didn’t have a broken bone by now, he would be very surprised.

Seb blinked, struggling to make out anything through the harsh light that was glaring down upon him. The blinding light itself was nothing new. They’d been trying far worse than that in trying to break him.

At least, that’s what he kept telling himself. He clung to the notion that Bolero was trying to make him spill his secrets because the alternative was that the leader of the Black Cobra just enjoyed torture and inflicting misery for his own pleasure.

Seb shook his head, trying to focus his thoughts. What had woken him up?

He was still strapped to the chair. In spite of how the hard edges of the metal dug into his flesh, it took him a moment to realize that. After all, when your entire body is constantly screaming in pain, it can become impossible to pinpoint any one cause.

Was this some new hellish torture then? Was this deep rumbling some new method that Bolero had devised to break Seb?

He was dimly aware of voices somewhere near him. That wasn’t particularly unusual, but they didn’t sound like they normally did. They didn’t sound cool, collected, and mocking. They sounded… panicked?

“What the fuck do you mean they’re already inside? You told me that it was just a couple of assholes!”

That voice belonged to Bolero, but it took Seb a moment to realize it. He’d never heard his torturer sounding anything but cruelly amused or sadistically impatient.

“They’re—”

A gunshot ended that excuse before it had even begun.

Seb had become quite familiar with the exact crack that Bolero’s favorite handgun made when it split the air.

He’d fired it so close to Seb’s head that he’d been sure he would go deaf, but the ringing had eventually stopped.

The leader of the Black Cobra was very familiar with exactly how much damage he could do before it became permanent and he broke his toys.

Seb squinted, straining against the light to make out anything at all.

He instantly regretted it. There was a body on the floor beside him. Bolero had just executed one of his subordinates.

“What the fuck are you all standing around for? ?Váyanse! Get them! And if you don’t, then I’ll fucking kill you next. Do you understand?”

Seb had no idea how many other men were in the room, but there was thunder as they stampeded out, fleeing to do as Bolero bid.

But then they were gone, and the thunder kept right on going.

No, this was something else. Something was shaking the earth beneath their feet.

Seb’s first thought wasn’t that he was being rescued. It wasn’t even that there might have been an earthquake. Instead, he thought that his prayers might have finally been answered and that the ground was opening up beneath his feet to swallow him whole.

That was one of the few things that had kept him sane throughout his torture: the depressing hope that he might die here and have his body never be found.

That would be far preferable to his dad or Nico ever having to confront what had happened to him.

Even the darkest depths of their worst fears couldn’t compare to confronting the actual truth.

Seb groaned. Early on, he’d learned not to do that unless he wanted extra punishment. Then, he had endured so much pain and humiliation that he’d stopped caring. A little part of him had hoped that Bolero would just lose his patience and kill him.

But there was no slap across the face this time. No horrific pain in his arm.

“That ungrateful little shit,” Bolero muttered under his breath, pacing back and forth in front of Seb. “I should’ve fucking known that he’d turn on me. Lucas? Lucas! Where the fuck is Lucas?”

In spite of himself, Seb felt a surge of hope. He’d been beaten and worse, all because of Nico, and yet he still dared to believe that the man might actually come rescue him.

“…stupid.”

Bolero paused mid-stride. “What was that?”

Unfortunately, Seb had voiced at least some of his thoughts aloud. Even more unfortunately, Bolero had chosen that moment to finally remember that he had a captive on hand.

“Did you plan this?” Bolero hissed, grabbing Seb by the jaw and yanking his head up.

The motion put Bolero between the glaring light and Seb’s eyes, allowing him to stop squinting.

It only took a moment for his eyes to adjust. So much of the last few days had been spent being forced from one extreme to another.

He’d had no choice but to get very good at acclimating very quickly to new, painful sensations.

Bolero looked positively unhinged, all his merciless confidence falling away as the world shook beneath their feet.

Another blast rocked the building, and dust showered down from the ceiling.

That was an explosion. This was an attack.

Either that or divine punishment from God, which Seb had wished for more than once during his torture.

“You must have planned this.” Bolero’s eyes were wild, and his fingers gripped Seb so tightly that they left marks. The only question was whether those marks were even noticeable on the scene of destruction that was Seb’s bloodied face.

“Planned… what?” Seb asked. Every word hurt. Something had been poured down his throat at some point. He didn’t know what it was. All he knew was that it had hurt like hell, and now it hurt to even breathe, much less talk.

“This attack!” Bolero roared so closely that flecks of his spit spattered across Seb. “They’re here! They found me because of you. This must have all been a trick. Nico must have let you get captured so that he could catch me by surprise. I always knew that snake would bite me one day.”

Seb blinked. That was all he could do. He couldn’t grab onto the tantalizing possibility that Nico was working to save him, that he was attacking the Black Cobra to rescue Seb.

Bolero had told him so many lies during their time together that it was impossible for him to believe anything the man said.

But he had never looked this panicked before.

“Lucas!” Bolero roared, flinging Seb away and sending him toppling to the ground along with the chair he was strapped to. “Lucas, where the fuck are you! Did you betray me as well? Were you in on this with your filthy fucking Nico?”

Seb’s eyelids fluttered. He felt himself falling unconscious. Yet another thing that he’d gotten dangerously used to in the last few days. Now, as he drifted off, he could only wonder just how much permanent brain damage he’d gotten at Bolero’s hands.

He had no idea how long passed before he woke up. Could have been hours, could have been seconds. In fact, it could have been days or weeks.

Maybe someone had attacked Bolero and laid waste to his fortress, and Seb had been left alone to die, strapped to a chair and lying on his side.

He couldn’t help but laugh at that. It made his throat hurt even more, but what was one more bit of blistering pain?

“Seb? Seb, are you alright?”

He felt a sensation behind him. More than that, it was a presence. Someone was kneeling down, their fingers working quickly to undo his restraints.

He wanted to believe that it was his father. He wanted to believe so badly that the voice was real, but it wouldn’t be the first time that Bolero had gotten creative and played a recording to fuck with Seb’s head.

“Dad?”

The hands froze, then worked twice as fast.

“Thank God you’re alive. I just… I’m so sorry, Seb. I’m so very sorry that you got wrapped up in this.”

So his dad had come to rescue him, and Bolero hadn’t managed to kill him. It was almost enough to make Seb cry.

No, it was actually far more than enough to make Seb cry.

He only now realized just how much he’d been bottling up inside himself, tucking everything that mattered to him in a deep, dark place that Bolero could never reach.

His flesh hadn’t been safe, but his soul had been, and he now felt his entire body racked by great, heaving sobs that were at least equal to the spasms of pain that had filled his entire being when Bolero had tortured him.

Thank God the man hadn’t raped him. That was the only thing left of this whole experience he feared would happen as Bolero got more sadistically insane over the days.

“Dad, is that really you?”

“It’s really me,” his father said, his voice sounding just as ragged and tired as Seb felt.

And then he was free. Standing was asking too much of his broken body, but he could still turn his head to look.

The man kneeling down beside him was almost a stranger. He was a soldier, armed and armored to the teeth, a rifle at his side and a bloody streak running down the side of his face from temple to chin.

Seb’s first instinct was to ask what the hell had happened to him, but then he remembered his own state. His face must look so, so much worse.

“Where’s B—” Seb trailed off. He couldn’t even finish the sentence, telling himself that his throat hurt too much. But he knew the truth. He knew that he couldn’t bear to say the bastard’s name.

“I don’t know, but he’s not here, and that’s what matters,” his father said quickly, offering Seb an arm to support himself. “I think he fell for one of our distractions. Now let’s get you out of here.”

Seb nodded and allowed himself to be helped. It quickly became clear that he could barely support his own weight at all. All he could do was limp along while his father bore the majority of his weight.

He’d dreamt of escaping through this door so many times, and it was almost impossible to believe that his opportunity was finally here.

But then he saw a figure fill the doorway and block out the light of the hallway outside, and he was filled with hope for a single moment.

Because there was Nico, face covered in grime, teeth bared in a grimace of pain and rage, his wild eyes sweeping over the room before coming to a rest on Seb. The two men stared at each other, and then Seb understood that this couldn’t really be happening.

There was no way that Nico had come to rescue him, not after what had happened.

“Is the way clear?” Pablo asked.

Nico broke eye contact with Seb and nodded sharply. “Didn’t run into Bolero, though. I didn’t take him for a coward, but he might have run.”

Yes, this was impossible. It had to be another trick of Bolero’s. There was no way that these two would work together, not even if the sun rose in the west and pigs started to fly.

“Seb, are you…”

But Nico didn’t finish the sentence. He just shook his head and checked his rifle.

“We’ll talk once we get out of here,” Pablo said.

“Right,” Nico growled. “Wait, someone’s coming. I’ll check it out.”

With that, he raised his rifle and advanced down the hallway and out of sight.

“Seb, you hanging in there?” There was more than a hint of concern in Pablo’s voice. “You just need to hold on a little longer, then you can rest.”

“But Nico—” Violent coughs prevented Seb from finishing his thought.

“He’ll be fine,” Pablo reassured him. “We’re going the other way, he’s gonna watch our backs.”

They emerged out into the hallway, and Seb couldn’t help but look in the direction that Nico had gone. There was no sign of him, and only then did Seb realize just how much he’d wanted to see the back of those broad, reassuring shoulders.

“Let’s go,” Pablo said, taking even more of Seb’s weight until he was nearly carrying him.

Seb had spent the entirety of his stay locked up with Bolero, so he hadn’t gotten to see the rest of the compound, but he had developed some idea of the scale by listening to Bolero’s commands and his subordinates’ reports.

At first, Seb had wondered why he was being allowed to hear such useful information, but he’d soon realized that the answer was obvious.

There had been no intention of letting him live.

He could feel tears streaming down his face. Feeling his dad against him was almost enough to make him believe that he was really being rescued.

“Hold on, I hear something,” Pablo said as they approached a corner. “That sounds like…”

“They went this way!” a voice called out from further down the hallway, garbled as if it was coming from a radio.

Suddenly, there were footsteps behind them as well. Before Seb could experience even more emotional whiplash and decide that they were about to die, he heard Nico’s voice behind them.

“Lucas.” There was such hate in that single word that it made Seb shiver.

“They’re blocking the way,” Pablo said as he turned the pair of them to face Nico. “Is the secondary escape route clear?”

Nico nodded, his jaw set so tightly that Seb could practically hear the teeth grinding.

“Here, take Seb and go. I’ll distract them,” Pablo said, giving his son one last reassuring squeeze.

Seb’s head spun around so fast that he got dizzy. “What are you—”

“No,” Nico cut in. “This is my battle. But… thanks for your trust in me.”

And then, before either Pablo or Seb could protest, Nico strode past them, squaring his shoulders and cracking his neck.

“Lucas!” he roared. “It’s time that you and I had a nice, long talk.”

Pablo didn’t hesitate, his lips a tight line as he tightened his grip on Seb and led him at an even faster pace in the opposite direction, back in the way that Nico had just checked.

Why? That was all that Seb could ask himself. Why did his father trust Nico that much? Because he obviously had been willing to hand Seb over to him.

How could his father do that? How could he trust the man that had just been plotting to destroy and ruin him?

Was it possible, was there even the tiniest sliver of a chance, that Nico could really be someone that Seb could trust again, even after everything?

And to think that he’d only realized it when it was too late, when Nico was marching to meet certain death.