Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
D ana’s teeth chattered beneath her veil. Not from the cold. Oh, no. This was pure, undiluted fear stealing her body’s ability to pump blood to her extremities.
She’d been captured by a terrorist group.
This was the absolute worst-case scenario. Being rescued was next to impossible now. She sniffed back the moisture collecting on her eyelashes. Brick had tried to stop them from taking her. She’d heard his screams and watched in horror as he’d been struck in the back of the head.
It’s all my fault.
Even if he survived, Brick didn’t have the resources to save her. By the time he arranged for men to get here from Pakistan, where Ali lived, it’d be too late. She’d either be dead or maimed beyond recognition.
Stupid, stupid, stupid .
If they’d done things differently. If she’d stayed closer to Brick. If she hadn’t taken on this godforsaken suicide mission. She knotted her hands on her knees. Feeling sorry for herself would do absolutely nothing. Keeping her legs drawn tightly to her chest, she stared at the shackles the terrorist—others called him Rakesh—had locked around her wrists. The tarnished metal was heavy. Nothing short of a bullet or key would crack it open.
The truck bumped and rattled beneath her. On the other side of the truck bed sat two young men, who’d also been taken prisoner. From what she could tell, they didn’t speak English. Some of the terrorists sat on a crate in the middle and some crouched low, hanging on to the sides of the truck. Each vehicle held at least a dozen people, and she’d counted five vehicles.
Zain. Where was he? From the low corner of the truck, she couldn’t make out any faces in the vehicle behind or in front of them. She’d glimpsed the other vehicles only when she’d been ushered onto the truck bed.
It had been him. She was sure of it. His eyes had flashed with warning when she touched him, but she hadn’t been afraid. Because something else screamed from his amber eyes. Concern. For her. She was sure of that because he didn’t flinch or remove her hand from his arm. He didn’t retaliate. Instead, he’d stood frozen, as if electrocuted by her voice.
But he’d heard .
Was he one of them now? The chances of her seeing him again were slim now that she was prisoner. She’d made it all this way and found him only to be captured and have the whole damn thing blow up in her face.
Even if she was lucky enough to speak to him again, he might just tell her to go to hell.
She closed her eyes as a torrent of fright swelled in her belly. They were traveling fast, and the whirr of the tires made bile creep up the back of her throat.
She lifted her gaze to see Rakesh. Heat burned her face. His eyes burrowed holes through her burka and his tongue slid over his bottom lip just above his beard. Revulsion crawled up the back of her neck. His eyes continued to hold hers as he kept the handle of his gun braced on the floor, the nozzle pointed to the sky.
Dana lowered her gaze. Her chest ached and a deep, black hole of self-pity wanted to suck her inside. The only certainty right now was the predatorial fire in Rakesh’s eyes. If she ever faced him alone, it’d be when she took her last breath. Because she’d rather fight until he killed her than suffer at his hands.
***
The desire for murder flooded Zain’s arteries. He pressed his tongue to the back of his teeth as he stared at Rakesh. The guy was inches shorter than him. If Zain lost his temper, he could snap Rakesh like a twig. And he wouldn’t regret it either. Rakesh was one of the cruelest bastards in this godforsaken place, reveling in the suffering he imposed on innocent people.
Lanterns flickered on the cave walls as they walked together, sending insidious shapes over Rakesh’s face and the rock surrounding them. Rakesh’s dark eyebrows bobbed, waiting for Zain to acknowledge whatever he’d said. Zain hadn’t been listening.
Hatred made him want to pull the machete from his belt and slit the bastard’s throat. Common sense won out. Zain just grunted. Rakesh meandered down the long windowless hall, and Zain fell into step beside him.
“You check on cell one,” Rakesh ordered. “I’ll do the other.”
Distaste slithered around Zain’s spine. Their job was to check on the prisoners. Rakesh had never volunteered himself for the prisoner’s check. Red flags waved in Zain’s head.
It’d been eight hours since they returned from disassembling the protest, and the woman’s haunting blue eyes had stayed with Zain every goddamn minute. A woman captive wouldn’t last long here. It’d be a miracle if she hadn’t been violated already. Fury skittered over his flesh, but he didn’t give in to the stifling need to find her.
He couldn’t .
Over the years, he’d learned how to create distance; he’d allowed himself to become desensitized. It was the only way to push through the urge to shield any female from the dungeon’s monsters.
I can’t get involved.
The linen afghan around his frame offered a shield against the frigid elements as he moved deeper through the cave alongside Rakesh. After steering around the winding corridor, he reached cell one. There were two cells, each one holding two or three inmates, all men other than the woman who’d been taken today.
Rakesh’s pace increased, and he disappeared around the corner, where the other cell waited.
Zain slid his assault rifle off his shoulder and poised it in front of him with one hand. With his other hand, he fished out the set of keys from his pocket. No sounds came from inside as he unlocked the door and entered.
Three captives sat hunched against the cave’s walls. One on one side and two on the other. Several feet separated them. The flames on the wall sconces danced, illuminating the men’s dirty faces.
She wasn’t here. Relief and disappointment clashed inside him like two rams fighting to determine dominance.
The stenches of urine and feces stung his nostrils. Pushing down a gag, he made his way toward the captives.
Immediately, a young man from the protest earlier that day leapt to his knees. “Please, sir!” he said, in Pashto, his native tongue. “My wife. My daughter. I need to find them.” Tears coursed down his cheeks.
The dampness in the air was so thick Zain could almost see water droplets. If the men held here didn’t die from torture or brute force, they’d die of infection. The prisoner’s words morphed into guttural cries that tried to worm through the blocked-off chambers of Zain’s conscience.
There’s nothing I can do.
Still, the man’s deep-brown eyes cut through him. The other prisoners were quiet. They’d been here a few weeks and by now surely knew begging wouldn’t get them anywhere. Zain approached the younger man and knelt down. He pulled his canteen from his side and handed it to him.
The man grabbed the leather bag, tears of appreciation in his gaze. He likely thought he’d found a savior. An ally.
He was wrong.
The man drank, wiped his mouth, and handed the canteen back. “Th-Thank you. Please. Can you help me? I didn’t do what they say. I’m innocent.”
Zain fought the mounting pressure in his chest. This man could scream his innocence and it wouldn’t fucking matter. Not only did no one give a shit, but he’d been accused of arranging a riot. Protesting of any kind was unforgivable. Guilty or not, he’d pay the price .
Zain tethered the man’s gaze to his. “Don’t try to talk to anyone,” he said in Pashto, his voice barely above a whisper. “They’ll kill you and do the same to your family for fun.”
The man sobbed. His wrenching cries made Zain cringe. Without another word, he stood and went back into the hall. The man’s pitiful pleas echoed over the stone walls. Zain locked the door and closed his eyes for half a second.
Up until now, Zain’s heart had been hardened. Stone cold. But something about the man’s desperation for his family ate away at the moat of distance Zain had constructed around his heart. The guy would be dead tomorrow if the family didn’t pay the ransom money. Which they sure as hell wouldn’t be able to do.
Zain turned and swung the strap of his rifle over his shoulder. Resting his palm on the handle of the machete—he wouldn’t walk a step in this place unguarded—Zain looked toward the other cell, around the corner.
Uncertainty anchored him in place. He shook his head, dissolving the unease clouding him. He moved away from the door.
“No!” A muffled female cry split the air.
Zain’s senses fired.
Fuck .
***
Dana’s eyes burned from lack of moisture. She sniffed back the stinging pain in her sinuses as she pillaged the walls of her chamber with her gaze. Like a reel on repeat, she produced the same results: no escape.
The high ceilings came to a peak overhead and water droplets fell from the roof to splatter her head and the puddles at her feet. There was no window. No hole. No tools she could use to dig. Except her shackles. She turned her wrists over, and the chain leashing her to the wall rattled. The thin band of metal was secured with a lock.
She could drag the metal against the wall, but she’d probably tear off her skin and get nowhere. She swallowed and glanced at the man sitting across the cell from her. He didn’t move or speak. Just stared into nothingness as if he were comatose. She was envious, wishing she could escape to whatever alternate reality his mind had conjured.
A chill shook her shoulders, and she rested her cheek on her knees. A bucket sat a few feet away, and judging by the pungent fecal smell, it hadn’t been emptied after the last person who’d been chained in her very spot had been taken away.
Brick. Taschen. Somebody, please get me out of here.
She’d never been one to wallow in despair, but nothing short of an alien spacecraft zooming in and abducting her would get her out of this place. Even if she could find something to use as a weapon against one of the guards, she’d never make the long trek through the bowels of hell without getting caught.
Please, God. Just let my death be quick .
That was her only hope right now.
The tinkling sound of a key in a metal lock made her snap up her head. The chill in her bones spread to her fingers and toes. Her heart thumped against her eardrums, making her brain work harder to assess the threat. Maybe it was Zain...
Creak
The door swung open and Rakesh entered.
Dana’s stomach revolted. Thank god he couldn’t see her expression through her burka. But her spine molded itself to the stone wall at her back.
Rakesh didn’t smile, but his thin lips twitched, making his long beard move. He closed the door behind him and stopped in front of her.
Self-preservation kept her gaze on his shoes. He stood still, his energy radiating toward her like a nuclear bomb. Only the gentle drip , drip , drip from the ceiling echoed through the room.
“Take off your burka.” His broken English shattered the silence.
Dana closed her eyes.
“Now,” he commanded.
She brought her hands to the material on her head and pulled it off. Her long, dark strands got tangled in the black cloth. She shook them free and glanced up at him .
His lip curled, and he brought his hand down.
Smack!
Dana cried out and hit the ground. Her cheekbone screamed, as the tender flesh immediately started to swell. She blinked away the shock stealing her breath.
“Do not look at me, whore,” he said viciously.
Dana bit back the retort she wanted to hurl at the woman-beating bastard. A high-pitched wail sounded throughout the space. Dana shot her gaze to her cellmate. His knees were curled to his chest, his hands around his ears. He rocked back and forth, eyes closed, piercing sounds coming from his lips.
Rakesh yelled something and the man stopped blabbering. Dana swallowed and slowly pushed herself back to a seated position.
What the hell do you want from me?
The question burned a hole through her tongue, but she didn’t raise her gaze from the ground. Rakesh dropped into a squatted position, forcing her to focus on his body. Instinct made her want to look at his face. To read his expression. Search for his intention.
But she couldn’t.
Doing so would cost her another hit—or worse. He wanted to scare her. This was nothing more than an intimidation tactic. She had to hold out.
His hand disappeared beneath the cloth he was swathed in, and then he produced a blade. A shudder rippled over Dana. She pressed her trembling lips into a firm line and swallowed.
He was going to kill her.
Cool metal stroked her cheek. “Too pretty,” he growled. “You want me to want you, yes? You want to be used.”
Her breath wheezed from her lips, the sound raspy.
“Look at me.”
Dana swallowed. Her face throbbed from the last time she’d done just that. He pressed the blade against her cheek and her skin threatened to split. She cut her gaze to his. He hovered inches from her face, so close she could headbutt him.
The urge to fight, to use her training, almost overpowered her.
He pulled the knife from her face, and a little gasp of relief left her body. He brought the metal tip to hover at her abdomen. “If you scream, I will cut you from center to teeth.”
Cold waves crashed against her.
His hand locked around her throat, and he pushed her to the ground. The unrelenting slab of rock dug into her back as Rakesh pulled at her clothing. Terror as sharp as nails hammered her spine. “No,” she wheezed, shoving at his hands.
There was no one to help her.
Calling out would only bring more men to her cell.
“Do not speak to me! ”
Wham!
His backhanded slap hit her lips. The tinny taste of blood touched her mouth. He worked feverishly to pull up her long dress, and his hand sunk beneath the waistband of her trousers.
Panic assaulted her senses. “No!” she cried. Using her bound hands like a club, she swung at his face.
Rakesh staggered to the side, and the knife slipped from his fingers. Dana catapulted to her feet, but the chain securing her to the wall didn’t let her go far.
Rakesh’s brown eyes glowered at her. He wiped his mouth and stood. Words spat from his snarly lips. She was sure he was calling her hideous names.
“Please.” She pressed her back against the wall as he closed in on her personal space. “Just kill me.” Oh god. She was begging for death. It didn’t take a psychic to know he wouldn’t carry out her wishes.
“I will, whore. Once I’m done with you.”
Creak
Rakesh stiffened and turned to face the door. “Farid.”
All the air left Dana’s lungs as Zain entered the room, swinging the door shut behind him. Her brain worked at the speed of light. Farid?
Zain spoke in Pashto, words flying from his mouth like stones, firm and authoritative .
Rakesh seized her throat again, towing her to stand next to him. “She is mine,” he said, in English. “Find your own whore.”
Dana’s chest screamed for air, but she wouldn’t risk taking a breath. Wouldn’t move.
Zain came closer. “I said, leave.”
Rakesh’s face hardened. He shoved Dana away and she stumbled backward, catching herself on the wall. He held up the knife again, this time pointing it toward Zain. Before, she’d been too close to see the dagger’s ten-inch jagged length. Her blood turned cold.
“Don’t be a fool,” Rakesh said. “You can have your turn.”
Zain moved the cloth of his tunic shirt and revealed a machete.
Oh god. No.
Please don’t die because of me .
Rakesh let out a sneering laugh then lunged forward, slicing the knife. Zain dodged backward, his torso careening at a sharp angle as if in a scene from The Matrix .
Dana’s breath came in sharp pants. Rakesh moved in a wide circle. As he moved farther from Dana, she could see the angry pinch of his brow. Zain mimicked Rakesh’s movements.
The other prisoner let out a shrill whine, amplifying the tension in the space. Rakesh snarled and dove for Zain, driving the knife toward his midsection .
“Zain!” Dana cried. The word ripped from her throat just as Zain moved swiftly out of Rakesh’s reach. His eyes, full of shock and scorched with warning, snapped to hers.
Oh god. What have I done?
Rakesh had called him Farid because Zain didn’t go by his real name. But why?
Rakesh’s beady eyes turned vengeful. “Traitor,” he whispered. His eyes flashed and his mouth twisted. “Tr—”
In one quick sweep, Zain sliced Rakesh’s jugular.
Dana brought her chained hands to her mouth to stifle a cry. Blood splattered across the cave wall, just missing her face. Strangled sounds gurgled from Rakesh’s throat. His knees buckled and connected with the dirt, then he folded forward, drowning in his own blood.
The prisoner’s cries stopped.
Zain’s chest heaved. His huge form, dominating the room. Sweat coated his face. His unforgiving eyes homed in on her. “You have no idea what you’ve done.”