Chapter 1
Zane
A meaty fist slams into my face, and pain radiates through my jaw, spreading up into my head and down my neck. It’s a dull pain, not sharp or stinging anymore, thanks to the dozens of times I was hit before I lost count.
I spit blood to the side and grin up at the man standing above me. His face is shielded by a mask, but I can feel the anger radiating off of him. “Hey now, that one didn’t hurt as bad. Are you going soft on me, Killer?” I ask, doing my best to keep my tone level.
It’s not fear that has me wavering. No, I ran out of fear a long time ago. This is pure exhaustion, dehydration, and the fact that I haven’t eaten anything in at least twenty-four hours.
Then again, if he keeps this up, I’ll likely never eat anything solid again.
The man rears his fist back again?—
“Wait! I’ll talk!” Sawyer Maddox, a member of my team, calls out from across the room. Like me and the other captured member of my team, Ryker Granger, his hands and feet are bound to a metal chair. He’s sitting at the edge of the blacked-out basement, his face bloodied and swollen just like the rest of ours.
Though Killer here has definitely taken a liking to messing up my face over theirs.
“Keep your mouth closed,” Ryker growls. He’s the largest of all of us, built like an actual tank and currently being held to his chair with chains since he managed to snap the ropes they’d bound him with the first time.
If he weren’t on my side? Then I might be slightly intimidated. But scared? Nah. Because I know I have God with me, and with Him at my side, what should I fear?
Death can do nothing to me since I put my faith in Jesus Christ.
“No,” Sawyer snaps. “You might be okay with them using Cap’s face as a punching bag, but I’m not, okay?” He feigns tortured emotion and closes his eyes.
I grin because I know what’s coming. I’ve seen Sawyer stare down the barrel of a rifle with a smile on his face. There’s no way he’ll bow down now.
But they don’t know that. And the nature of the game? Delay until the cavalry shows up.
“Talk,” the man wearing my blood like a glove orders, his finger pointed directly at Sawyer.
“Okay.” Sawyer takes a deep breath. “It was me,” he says. “I’m the one who took your sister out last night. Listen, I know we stayed out late, but it was all honorable. You have my word. I didn’t even—” Sawyer’s words are cut off when Killer charges across the small room and slams his fist into his face.
“I told you to keep your mouth closed,” Ryker says, chuckling.
Sawyer laughs and spits his blood onto the concrete floor. “Yeah, but then I would have missed out on that sweet little love tap.” I’m pretty sure he winks, but with one eye completely swollen shut, it’s also possible he was just blinking.
“Look, how about a little quid pro quo?” I ask. “You answer my questions, and I’ll answer yours.”
“Do you think that’s how this works?” Killer snarls and turns back toward me. Reaching down into his boot, he straightens and withdraws a blade nearly as long as my forearm.
Okay, maybe things are getting a bit more heated now.
Lord, please be with us here in this room. If it is Your will, please let us walk out of this. Amen. As I pray, peace washes over me. Death doesn’t scare me. It never has. Maybe that’s why I’m as good at this as I am? Because I know that, no matter what happens to me here, I’m going somewhere better.
Both Sawyer and Ryker have gone completely silent, their serious gazes trained intently on the man in front of me. So far, he’s the only one in this room, though I know there are plenty more above ground. We saw them firsthand when we infiltrated this place, looking for the missing teenage daughter of a French diplomat yesterday.
Unfortunately, the intel we were given was flawed, and there were far more guns within the walls than we anticipated. Hence, the whole being tied to a chair thing. It’s also what’s kept the cavalry so long. Dealing with that many opposing forces takes planning and precision.
The man closes the distance between us and presses the cold blade against my cheek. “How about I start removing things and we see just how brave you are then?” he questions, dragging the blade up toward my ear.
Come on, Demo. Bring the rain.
Even as I think the thought, a roaring explosion rocks the very ground we’re sitting on. Overhead, the ceiling opens, and rubble rains down on top of us. Chunks of the ceiling slam into me, and pain radiates through my head.
But it can’t steal the joy in my heart because this is about to be nice and wrapped up in a tight little bow.
My attacker leaps backward, and I use his momentary distraction to lean down and slice the ropes at my ankles, utilizing the handy blade I’d managed to keep hidden in the hem of my sleeve. I’d managed to cut my arms free at least an hour ago, which made taking those hits even more difficult. But making a move before I knew it was clear upstairs could have led to my taking something a lot more permanent than a punch.
