Chapter 41 Aftermath
Aftermath
Ice-cold water was thrown into the face of the man hanging by his wrists from the chains built into the wall. His dark beard was caked in blood, the red droplets dripping onto his cheap leather boots.
The striking cold rush of the water abruptly woke him from his fist-induced coma, causing him to cough and sputter.
Four of his buddies were also strung up throughout the concrete room, their bodies wrought with destruction and wear from the small battle that had ended barely an hour ago.
Instead of just setting the metal bucket down, Scott threw the damn thing right into his chest, the bucket bouncing off him and clattering to the floor.
“That was excessive,” I commented, side-eyeing Scott as he moved on to one of the other captives. With so many of them, a team effort was needed.
Grabbing one of the wrenches off the nearby tray, I made my way toward the shivering fuck and placed his thumb between the clamps of the wrench and gently squeezed.
“How did you know we were at this location?” I asked calmly.
This particular location was pretty well-known among my inner crowd, since most of them attended my wedding here.
But how they knew we would be here when I literally decided on it only two days ago had me questioning that inner circle.
I needed to know if I had any rats among my ranks and confidants.
He took several deep breaths then, his chest rising up and down as he contemplated how many fingers he wanted to lose before I killed him.
I gave him five seconds to decide before squeezing the clamps until they cut through the flesh of his thumb.
A squeal of a scream escaped his lips, a pathetic sound I intended to amplify.
“Answer my question or I’ll finish what I started,” I said, squeezing the wrench just a little tighter.
He groaned as he sucked in another breath, his eyes moving back and forth from me to Scott as he began cutting off his screaming captive’s ear. It was nice having some extra motivation in the room.
“Okay, okay,” he began, his heavy breathing becoming increasingly annoying. “The information w-was given from an outside s-source. But I’m too low in the r-ranks to know who or c-care.”
His Mexican accent was thick as he spoke in stuttering English. I squeezed the wrench until the bone between it finally snapped, crunching under the pressure like a walnut.
“Fuck!” he screamed, the sound bouncing off the concrete walls and causing the other captives to jerk in their chains. I couldn’t help but snort.
“You’re going to have to do better than that if you want to keep the rest,” I informed him, flipping the bloodied wrench in my palm.
More breathing. More crying. More wishing he were already dead.
“Really!” he cried. “I don’t know where we got the info. I’m just a foot soldier!”
I rolled my eyes. “I’ve already encountered enough of Miguel’s foot soldiers to know where he’s hiding and how many of his men are across the border.”
More screaming stole his attention away as Scott continued questioning the other captives, hopefully creating more motivation for this stupid motherfucker to speak.
“I don’t know what else to tell you!”
Placing his index finger between the wrench, I squeezed it just as I had before.
“Preferably something that will spare you this finger. Otherwise I’ll just skip the questioning and move on to the fun part.”
I squeezed the clamps harder, drawing blood from the torn skin as it dripped into a puddle on the floor. It took another thirty minutes and all four digits to be torn from his hand before he finally went in the right direction of what I was looking for.
“There’s an extraction point!” he suddenly shouted just as I was about to start on the other hand.
I rolled my eyes. This was the best he could do? “What good is an extraction point when I can easily trace that helicopter you brought back to its original base?”
“M-Miguel will be there,” he sputtered.
“Max! You dirty piece of shit!” one of the other captives shouted out.
“F-fuck you, Mick!” he shouted back.
I narrowed my eyes at what sounded like complete bullshit. “Why the fuck would Miguel be at an extraction point?” I would have expected his cowardly ass to remain hidden in his little fortress behind the safety of the Mexican border.
“Because we were s-supposed to bring you in alive. He wanted to be there f-for that himself.”
I released the clamp around his finger and stepped away, the laughter bouncing up from my chest impossible to contain. The audacity of these assholes. They thought they were going to take me alive? Hilarious.
“When and where?” I asked, holding the wrench up for emphasis.
“Twenty klicks south of here. Three hours from now.”
I grinned at the sudden turn of events. It looked like Miguel would have his final wish come true after all.
“Seems you get to live another three hours.”
Grinning, I stepped away to answer an incoming call. I placed the phone to my ear just as another scream ripped out from one of the captives.
“What.”
“Sir,” Eric said on the other line, practically panting. “There was another attack. You weren’t the only one.”
For fuck’s sake.
I sighed in aggravation, pinching the bridge of my nose to relieve the pressure growing behind my eyes. This day was never going to end.
“Where?” I asked, anger rising in my blood for the thirtieth time today. But I didn’t expect to be hit with an odd sense of dread at his answer.
“Daniel’s home, sir.”
I woke with a stir, bolting upright from my position and clutching my heart to keep it from leaping out of my chest. The room immediately spun, my vision blurring while my head pounded something fierce.
I quickly lay back down, flopping onto my side only to experience some serious soreness in my cheek.
Wincing, I rubbed it gently, feeling some slight swelling as I slowly rolled onto my back.
What the fuck happened?
I closed my eyes, focusing on my deep breathing until the dizziness faded away, working to ignore the flaring pain in my hip that shot down my leg.
And then reality struck me.
Darren had drugged me. During the fight. During my one possible chance of getting out.
I felt the panic quickly sink in, fear and anguish running down my cheeks in heavy streams at the thought of what Darren might have discovered while I was unconscious. I could barely catch my breath as my blood pulsed with dread.
Breathe, Jaden. Just breathe. You don’t know anything yet.
But deep down, I already knew. My very state was proof enough. I could sense that my hair had already been washed and styled, the softness of it brushing underneath my jawline. My skin didn’t feel tight or caked in grime anymore, and I was wearing a new clean dress.
The signs of failure where all there, just as heavy and debilitating as the anguish radiating in my muscles and bones from the battle that had clearly been lost.
Attempting to regain some ground, I tried to train my focus on anything other than the tremors flowing through my body. Taking slow deep breaths, I wiped away my tears and slowly sat up to study the room I was in.
It was dark, and the bed beneath me was unfamiliar since it was so small. But the large presence in the corner was unmistakable, that black energy of his always palpable to my touch. And that was when I realized Matt’s plan had well and truly failed. Darren had survived. And I was not free.
Oh God. It was true.
I was not free.
“You look scared, my defiant little queen.”
A cold chill shot its way up my spine, the tremors worsening with every silent second that past. Darren stepped forward from the shadows, his imposing stature dominating the small space, reminding me why I was such an idiot for thinking he wouldn’t survive.
Reminding me of how goddamn foolish I was.
Had this been years earlier, I might have allowed my terror to sink in at the mere sight of him, my flight instinct activated to flee immediately. But like Darren had already said, it was my fight that always kept me in place to take him on.
Quickly analyzing his features, I searched for the triumphant sneer in his lips that would confirm my worst fears, any semblance of a devious victory that he would taunt me with. But I found none of that. Instead, all I saw was cold, dark fury.
What did this mean? Had Jason not been found? Had he even been there at all? Had my deception been discovered?
No. No, it couldn’t be. I had to believe Jason hadn’t been involved. There was no other explanation for that disaster of an assault. None of the gunmen even knew his name. Something had to have gone wrong.
Slowing my breathing down, I took several large breaths in through my nose to center myself, and then launched my emotions from panic to absolute volcanic anger.
“What the hell did you do?” I shouted from the bed. “Why did you drug me? We were in the middle of an attack, and you left me completely helpless! Why?!”
It only took a single stern look from him to force myself to quiet down, the stormy look in his eyes warning me to lower my voice and remember my place. But I wanted answers. Needed them desperately. And then a solid, heavy step forward had me wincing.
“I drugged you because I had no other choice!” he roared, the deep pitch in his tone causing my body to flinch.
Darren rarely raised his voice, noticeably because he just didn’t need to, the coldness in his calm tone terrifying enough.
But this time was different. “You deliberately disobeyed me again after I had just told you to run for safety. Instead, you chose to stay and fight, and then had the audacity to argue with me while I was correcting your near-fatal mistake!”
I could feel my teeth grinding to dust as I bit back my retort. Now that I knew I was still stuck here, I had some serious damage control to manage.