“Kail!” I call out, despite being sure he won’t be allowed to respond.
His upper torso is bare, with the old scars and some recent wounds on display. They’ve done bad things to him. Stabbed him, maybe. His tracksuit pants are spotted with dark stains. He doesn’t look at me. His gait wavers, his feet trip over each other, and he stumbles to his knees. Only the guards’ quick reaction stops him from faceplanting onto the floor.
Now I can see his back and the metal cuffs binding him are inches thick. No one made of flesh, frankenstruct or not, could break those.
I edge away until I’m level with the desk and throw a backward glance at the wall of glass. There are no signs of anyone driving in below. Have they failed? Are we to face this alone, after all?
“Slap him a few times and drag him over so he can watch,” Clay says. Three blows rock Kail’s head. “See how docile your lover is? The sedation does wonders. Cannon, bend her over the desk for me. Hold her there while I teach her how stupid and worthless she is.”
He unzips his pants as they pull Kail across the floor on his knees.
Cannon glowers at me then Clay, then me. “No, sir. This is not listed in my duties. I am not holding her while you rape her. I have limits.”
Clay’s eyebrows rise and his mouth drops open. “You, what the ever-loving fuck? What did you say to me? Do you want to get demoted, mister? Bring her!”
Shit.If I run… That door is too far. I won’t make it. Besides, I’m staying. If life is worth living, if loyalty and love mean anything, I am staying. I go to Kail and place my hand on his arm, stand at his side then face Clay.
I may be afraid, but I can face this with dignity. Or as much dignity as I’m allowed.
Which could be almost none.
“Cannon. Bring her.”
Kail clambers upright and looks down at me. His eyes seem less blank and are filling with life and focusing. He seems to have figured out some of what is happening and shakes his head vigorously then growls. That growl.
I find myself grinning and hug his arm, whispering, “Attaboy.”
“No, sir.” Cannon goes to the left wall and stations himselfthere. His glower is gone but has been replaced with pure determination, judging by the rigid set of his mouth.
“Jesus.” Clay heads for me, and I cringe.
“No!” Kail shakes off my hand and drives himself in Clay’s direction.
The guards sprint, catch up, and haul him to a halt. Where the steel binds his wrists his skin is reddened as if he’s recently tried to break the cuffs. The sheriff remains where he entered, his arms slack but his fists curled. He adjusts his hat.
Another enemy.
Even if Kail could recover his full strength and clear his mind, we are outnumbered. I count the men around us. This is a disaster of my own creation, but at least I am here. I tried. With Father I was simply absent when he needed me. A useless daughter. Useless and wracked by regrets.
“What do we do?” one of the guards says.
“Stay there. We just take fucking orders, Andy. Hold him and wait.”
Ron and Molly were right. The chance of Clay giving in and giving up was always tiny.
With a wild roar, Kail explodes again and kicks at the guards. His biceps bulge as he twists. Another kick lands, and a guard jolts backward and rolls across the floor, retching.
“Fuck! Hold him still, dammit!” Clay rushes in, pointing at Kail before he lunges for me.
I trip over a guard as I try to avoid him and fall, thumping onto my ass, my hip, and my hands. Clay’s nose is red with sprayed blood. Cruelty and teeth show in the delighted spread of his mouth when he catches my ankle and drags me toward the desk.
I kick and yell and throw my body about, landing a blow on his hand before he grabs my other leg. Facedown, with myclothes scraping and squeaking over the timber floor, I’m brought to the desk.
Looking up, I see his open hand coming for my head as if to grab my hair. As I duck aside, a ruckus tramples nearer, where arms and legs and people are tumbling. Then Kail rams into Clay and sends him sprawling, along with the two guards he’s towed with him.
Kail… I reach for him.
In a flash-pausing of time, our fingertips touch then we’re pulled apart by momentum. The touch is a zap of electricity, before the unravelling of a storm sweeps in. I’m left breathless.
