Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 70628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Katelyn rises. “I’m going to check with Katina on dinner.”
Yes, I have to eat. I have to make sure Buck eats.
I must keep up my strength.
I have twelve hundred dollars cash in my wallet. One credit card that gets billed to the Wolfes.
That’s it. All I have. The Wolfes would never cut me off, but if I use their credit card, they’ll be able to track me.
So I basically have twelve hundred dollars.
I know this makes no sense.
I know I’m better off staying with Buck, Luke, Katelyn.
But I can’t drag them into this. They’ve all been through their own hell.
I rise as well. “I’m going to help Katina get a tray together for Buck.”
Luke nods.
He’s thinking about stuff. About that Chris Pollack guy, who’s still out there.
Am I better off staying?
Of course.
But three people I care about, who are in this house at this very moment, are not better off.
Katina finishes setting food on Buck’s tray.
“I’ll take it into him,” I say, forcing another smile.
I carry the tray out of the kitchen down the hallway to the guestroom where Buck is situated. I open the door, staying as quiet as I can, and find him asleep again. He needs to eat. I should wake him.
But I can’t bring myself to disturb him. His head laceration is healing well, and he looks peaceful. So peaceful.
He deserves to be at peace.
I set the tray on the table near the window. I’ll come back and check later to see if he’s eaten.
I brush my lips over his forehead, and he stirs slightly. But he doesn’t wake up, so I quietly close the door and leave him alone. I rejoin Luke and Katelyn on the deck, where I dutifully eat my meal.
After all, you eat when you’re fed. Not only on the island, but here as well. It’s the way you keep your strength.
And I will need all my strength.
7
BUCK
I lie in a pool of my own blood.
I can’t put into words the humiliation that I feel. It’s almost worse than the physical pain from the brutal abuse I just suffered.
I’m hungry. So damned hungry. When did I last eat? I’m not sure.
All they give me is bread and water.
Stale bread that’s often moldy.
But at least they keep me hydrated. Here in the desert, it’s a necessity, and clearly I’m worth more alive than dead to them.
They think they’ve broken me.
For a few scant moments, they’re right.
But I will rise again.
I always do. I’m the spirited buck, and nothing can keep me down.
I think of Leif, who we call Phoenix. He got the name because he’s so good at getting out of scrapes. Better than the rest of us. He’s like the mythical phoenix who always rises from the ashes.
I wonder if he’s already out of here.
If he can, he’ll come for me. But if he can’t? He’ll get the fuck out of here. When things get tough, it’s every man for himself.
We all understand that.
Honor, courage, and commitment.
It’s what we learn as SEALs.
It is why I did not break—why I did not give away my secrets—even during the most brutal punishment I’ve ever received.
And it’s what keeps me together now.
Humiliation threatens to overtake me.
But I control it.
I stay outside of myself. I do not focus inward.
I focus only on what I learned in training—how to control my emotions and my actions, regardless of circumstance.
The humiliation does not define me.
What someone else did to me does not define me.
My pain does not define me.
And I will not succumb.
My eyes flutter open, and I’m in yet another room I don’t recognize.
A large room, and I’m in a large bed, with a mattress that perfectly supports my aching body.
Right.
I’m in Ashton’s house. Raven’s house.
I inhale, and the fragrance of roasted chicken and vegetables wafts toward me.
I sit up in bed, and then I spy a tray of food sitting on the table by the window.
My stomach growls.
I’m hungry. I will eat. I need to keep up my strength.
Where’s Aspen?
This is Lucifer Raven’s house. Surely he has some kind of intercom system. I look on the wall, but I don’t see anything.
Surely there’s a camera somewhere in here, hidden. He has top-notch security. Fucks with my privacy, but I get it.
I wave my hands. “Aspen. I’m awake.”
Of course I don’t know where the hidden camera is, and Aspen certainly doesn’t have access to it anyway.
I get up, shuffle over to the table, wearing nothing but my boxer briefs. I take the dome off the plate. It’s chicken fajitas, along with all the fixings. They smell good—especially the smoky aroma of roasted peppers. I load a tortilla with meat, onions, peppers, guacamole, and cheese, and I take a bite.
Yes, real food. The last meal I had was the mushy lunch at the hospital.
Also on the tray is a glass of ice water and a can of Coke.