THREE
Logan
It seemed like Garret wasn’t keeping his whore sated enough. The way Kaylan looked at me, the hunger in her eyes belied what I reluctantly thought was vulnerability. It had me feeling something…odd.
Her incredibly tiny gray shorts left her legs all bare for me to see. The creamy texture of her long muscular legs, had me almost extending my hands to touch her.
Fuck .
I shouldn’t be lusting after a woman who was my nightmare. No matter how many times she’d treated my wounds, she was only preparing the pig for slaughter.
But, God , that hunger in her eyes had me reeling.
I couldn’t help but watch her watch me. Watch her drink me in with desire exuding from each of her pores. Her jet-black hair which barely reached her shoulders, was freshly combed and shiny. I could even see the blue veins on her pale cheek in the dim light of this dungeon.
She was like a tempting miracle, wrapped in a sadistic body, meant to entice you. I bet that’s why Garret kept her around. To make us prisoners lose our balance. Make us forget that our purpose here was to escape.
I shook my head and dropped back down to do the pushups I was barely able to do.
Five more, Logan.
My muscles started to ache, and I could feel the cuts on my back open and close with each pushup. The burning stinging sensation had my eyes tearing up, but I completed five more before giving up.
I remembered the time Leora and I would have pushup competitions. I missed the ridiculous bets we made. Fuck, I missed her. I missed Zarek and Dylan. I missed my whole squad. I even, for some odd reason, missed Sebastian.
I had two choices, I could escape by myself, or find a way to send a signal to my squad telling them I’m alive. But I didn’t know how to do that sitting here, rotting in a fucking cell. I did know, however, that Kaylan was Garret’s priced possession. The same Kaylan I had lusted after seven years ago, and the one who had lusted after me a few minutes ago. I could use that to my advantage.
“You thinking about that whore?” 387 disrupted my thoughts.
I looked at him, scowling. For some reason, I didn’t like him calling her a whore. I called her that. I wanted to be the only one calling her that.
I ignored him.
“I wonder what she tastes like,” he laughed, “She’s such a young thing. She must not be tight, though. Garret would be stretching that cun—”
I kicked the bars of my cell with my bare feet, letting the sound of the lock clanging against the metal. I wanted him to shut up. Even though I knew what probably went on with Garret and Kaylan, I didn’t need a visual representation from fucking 387.
“Now, now! Don’t get attached, 424. She’s just a distraction. A good one, though,” his gravelly laugh irritated me further.
“Shut up, or so help me God…”
He grinned at me with his rotting teeth, “What’s your name, soldier?”
I remained silent.
“At some point, you will have to tell me. We’re neighbors after all.”
I grunted and shifted to not face him.
“C’mon, tell me, soldier.”
“I’m not a soldier anymore, 387,” I growled.
“Fuck 387. I told you to call me Brodie. I’ll forget my fucking name otherwise. I already feel insane,” he huffed.
“Fine,” I said shortly.
“Fine what…?”
I rolled my eyes, “Fine, Brodie !”
“Atta boy.”
He shifted closer to his cell’s bars and poked his nose out, “You think you can get that whore to help us?”
His face beamed with excitement.
When I stayed silent, he continued, “She looks at you like she wants to tear down those white little boxers you wear and milk your cock. Maybe she likes you. Tell her to help us, soldier.”
I stared him down and shook my head in disgust.
“Or maybe she’s just cock-hungry. Bet she’d suck us all if given the chance.”
“If you don’t shut up, Brodie , I will slit your fucking throat and enjoy the little gurgles you’d make while I stare you down,” I growled.
He held up his hands in surrender, grinning and finally went silent. I closed my eyes for a nap and tried my best to calm the fuck down.
???
“Get down. Get down!” Zarek yelled beyond the cloud of smoke and dust.
We were taking fire. The Afghan sun rose above, scorching the earth beneath us. I was sweating in my gear, my goggles doing little to protect me from the sand.
We had been ambushed, Zarek, Dylan, Maxton and I. The fire ceased momentarily. Our eyes scanned the eerily quiet village ahead. Suddenly, the silence shattered, bullets zipped close, too close, pelting the ancient stone walls we used for cover. I spun and saw Zarek taking heavy fire behind the truck. Dylan, Max and I were relatively safer, but Zarek needed cover.
I risked a glance, saw the enemy’s position, and without thinking, I made a dash, the heat of the bullets like whispers of death brushing by.
“Gunner, what the fuck?!” Dylan shouted.
I reached Zarek, and as I slid next to him, dust clouded around us.
Our refuge was scant, a crumbling truck, barely enough to shield our bodies. Zarek tried to peer out, but the sharp tat-tat-tat of returning fire forced him back, his expression tight with tension.
One well-aimed bullet, and the truck would explode. We had to get away from here.
“We’re pinned, but we’ve handled worse,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
“You have a death wish, Gunner.”
I grinned at him, and then immediately spotting an opportunity, I threw a grenade toward the enemy line, the explosion momentarily leveling the playing field.
“On me, Ghost!” I shouted, and we sprinted towards a battered structure that offered better cover.
Our run was a blur of heat and dust, our boots pounding the scorched earth. We barged into a dark room, the detonation’s echoing our only companion as we paused to catch our breath.
Grinning despite the grime and sweat, I clapped Zarek on the shoulder.
“That’s two for me, Ghost. I’ve just saved your ass again,” I joked, the thrill of the skirmish still dancing in my veins.
Zarek’s strained smile slowly morphed into a reluctant laugh.
“Stop keeping count, jackass!”
???
A harsh slap jolted me awake, Tyka’s familiar wide grin looming over me.
“Spa day, 424,” he chuckled, his humor as dark as the cell.
Spa day was anything but. It meant enduring the icy kiss of a slab and the tight grip of manacles.
“Perhaps you could lay me on my back today, Tyk? It’s hurting a lot,” I said, my voice laced with a grim jest.
He clenched my jaw, his fingers digging in menacingly. “Don’t. Call. Me. Tyk,” he hissed. “This is you, isn’t it? Making jokes. Even at my expense. But I’m not a kid anymore. So remember, keep silent today, and I might ‘forget’ you in the chamber.”
I shoved his hand away, rolling my eyes, and followed him to the chamber as if on a leisurely walk, not a march to potential death.
“You know, when the boss thinks he has everything he needs from you, I would be happy to shut your mouth for good, Logan,” Tyka smirked.
“Didn’t you get your revenge by killing our parents?”
He turned to glare at me and bellowed, “ MY parents! You fucking stole them. I should’ve had you killed that day. That useless idiot shot your boss instead.”
My eyes widened a fraction, recalling the day when Leora and I had our training session and Zarek was shot in his arm. That bullet was for me, fuck!
Walking with Tyka was like shadow-boxing with my past. He wasn’t just any tormentor; he was Tyka Carlton, a boy who once, in a twisted way, was my brother. Adopted by the Carltons when he was only four, his deep-seated jealousy and psychopathic tendencies were palpable by the time I arrived when I was sixteen and he was thirteen.
He ran away at fifteen, which was a dark relief, but the reprieve was short-lived. After joining the military, I returned from an assignment only to be blindsided by the news of my adoptive parents’ murder, Tyka’s final act of revenge before he vanished again.
It was my fault I hadn’t considered him a threat when he very clearly was. I should’ve warned my adoptive parents. I should’ve told them about his erratic behavior.
Now, decades later, Tyka was the man engineering my agony, determined to obliterate the Carltons, with me as his chosen target.
Kaylan
Not here. Not now. Not yet.
He was freezing. His pulse was thirty-eight at its highest and he was barely breathing. He could die if I didn’t get him warm.
“Get him to the infirmary,” I said to Tyka in my calmest tone despite the melee of a storm brewing inside me.
“Just do something in his cell itself, he’s fine,” he snarled.
“He’s hypothermic, you idiot. You left him there overnight. He’s no use to us dead. Move. Him. Now.”
Tyka reluctantly signaled two of his men to pick Logan up and transfer him to the infirmary upstairs on the first basement level. I could feel Tyka’s cold gaze following me as we made our way to the infirmary.
I always had a gnawing feeling that given the opportunity, Tyka would relish in putting a bullet through Logan’s head.
Logan lay there, cold and defenseless, a sight that tore at me. Yet, I forced a mask of indifference, distancing myself with a practiced gaze. Inside, I was a storm of emotions, but outwardly, I had to appear unfeeling, detached. The struggle to suppress my feelings while watching him in such a state was overwhelming.
Once they settled him on the only bed the infirmary had, I went to the sink, filled a bucket of hot water, and grabbed some towels. Tyka and his men watched me for a beat and then left me to do my work.
Drenching the towels I covered his whole body with them, in order to increase his body temperature. He was at 33.6°C. He had to be above 35° within the next three hours otherwise he could go into shock. He could die. Logan could die.
I sat beside him, watching him breathe, checking his pulse every now and then. Nobody disturbed me. I did my job in peace. I stared at his beautiful pale face, his lips now bloodless, his lashes resting peacefully over his cheek.
He would groan every few minutes, so I held his cold hand for him to squeeze if he was in pain. I changed the towels with warmer ones every fifteen minutes. Eventually, after two hours, I checked his temperature and it had risen to a good 34.8°. I sighed with relief and changed the towels again. They didn’t have heat packs, so I had to do this the old-fashioned way.
Suddenly, he started to violently shiver, his body shaking painfully. I held him down and rubbed his palms to let the heat from my hands soak in. The shivering didn’t stop.
I eyed the door to the infirmary warily. Because I knew what I had to do.
I went up to the door and checked that it was closed again. Someone could still enter but I would hear the clink of the knob turning.
I walked back to Logan, shed my t-shirt, and climbed into bed with him. Then I literally lay down on top of him, covering his large shaking body with my tiny one. He shivered for a few more minutes and eventually calmed down. His body was so cold but the heat radiating from me had calmed him. I felt a hint of relief flooding when his breathing evened out. I could feel his heart rate climb up too. I stayed there until my eyes felt droopy and I slipped into a peaceful sleep for the first time in months.