Page 60 of Ravaged Soul

“We have plenty of allies. This isn’t a fight you can win.”

Tension creates an unbearable pressure in the sea air, encasing us all in a suffocating bubble that only bloodshed can penetrate. The same fortitude that entered me when I tackled each fight Carlos arranged allows me to step forward now.

Every last gun pointed at us remains locked in place. That’s when I realise they aren’t aiming at me. Not a single one of Carlos’s thugs. All of them remain focused on the men spread out behind me, holding them hostage.

“Em,” Warner warns.

I hold up a hand. “Don’t move. He only wants me.”

“Quite right.” Carlos beams at me.

“Where is my brother?”

“Do you want to see him again?”

“Where is he?” I repeat.

“Come with us and find out.”

I take another step forward, despite more protests coming from behind me. I have no idea how Hyland is holding himself back from charging after me—bullet or not. My next words won’t help his turmoil.

“I’m tired of running. We can discuss a mutually beneficial surrender… once I have proof of life. I want to see Tom.”

“Surrender?” Hyland hisses. “Fuck no!”

A scuffle from behind causes all of Carlos’s backup to tense, fingers dancing on triggers. I glance back to see Warner and Blaine restraining Hyland’s arms, barely stopping him from chasing after me and killing himself.

Returning my gaze to Carlos, he stares at me, and I stare right fucking back. Both assessing. Weighing up our opponent. Backup aside, I think I could take him, though we’d both emerge bloodied. But if that’s the way it has to be, then so be it.

“Caged rats always sing for their supper in the end.” His smile drips revolting satisfaction. “Very well, 768. Have it your way.”

Carlos nods to one of his men. My heart rate ratchets up several notches when two foot soldiers disappear down the steps at the back of the dockyard towards where the cargo ship is moored for its resupply.

“You know, helping these fools is a waste of your talent,” he adds in distaste. “All that time spent training you… and this is what you choose to do with your gifts.”

“Gifts?” I laugh flatly.

“We created you.”

“You beat me! Tortured me! Broke me!”

“I created the perfect weapon.” He gestures towards the men at my back. “Not a whore to be kept on display in Sabre Security’s hall of fame.”

The wind blowing off the North Sea cuts into me, adding to my shaking. My nails slice into my palms where I’m clenching my fists tight enough to hold my rage back. By a fucking shoestring.

The two goons quickly return, ascending the dock’s steps with a sagging heap of skin and bone between them. My entire line of sight narrows to that barely recognisable ghost as bloodthirst rages through me.

Ghostly pale. Limp. Unconscious.

Misshapen from bruises and swelling.

My big brother.

Heartbreak is such a weak term. Frail. Pathetic. As if a human heart could quietly break like a cracked eggshell. The sight of my brother doesn’t break my heart—it smashes, pulverises and sweeps it away without any care for the remaining dust.

“Tom...”

“Here you are.” Carlos waves grandly towards his captive. “Proof of life.”