Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
“Do you know what happened to Peter Barrows, my bodyguard?” Owen asked, searching my face. “We were separated, and I haven’t seen him since.”
“He’s dead, Owen. I’m so sorry,” I said grimly.
He nodded and reached out to touch my face, his thumb sliding back and forth over my cheekbone, his expression telling me he found comfort in being able to touch me.
I was about to tell him everything that happened, but the lock turned and the bolts slid aside. I stood up, shielding Owen, my muscles tensing as soon as the door started to open.
A man walked into the cell. He was Asian, tall, well over my height, broad-shouldered, and in very good physical shape, with thick, muscled forearms. He was carrying a cat-o’-nine-tails.
I was terrified then, thinking this was how it would end. A short, brutal fight in a dark cell, then a knife to the throat. Perhaps this was the point of Owen being here. Me dying, knowing I could do nothing to save him. Or perhaps this was Owen’s punishment, seeing me killed in front of him. I had no idea, but whatever was about to happen, it wasn’t going to be good. There was no point in kidding myself about that.
“You will come with me, Colonel,” the man said in cold English with no accent. “I recommend you say your goodbyes now. The next time you see him, he will be dead.”
“And what if I’m not feeling so inclined?”
A slow sadistic smile spread over the henchman’s lips before he was suddenly on me. Like a rattlesnake, his wrists sprang suddenly upward, the cat-o’-nine-tails slashing across my face. The man was strong. The force of the impact rocked me, and I felt my knees buckle. It took a moment for my brain to figure out what my body had just experienced. The pain didn’t register instantly. When it did, it was violent, as if a hundred shards of glass had been raked across my flesh all at once.
I cried out as the pain cut through me like a lance. Staggering back, I raised my hands instinctively to protect myself, but it was no good. The man had already reeled the whip back, high into the air like a sword, then slashed it down. It smashed past my hands and into the side of my throat, sending me crashing to the floor. I groaned, my eyes clouding as the darkness pushed in on me.
I watched helplessly from the floor as Owen lunged through the space that separated me and our attacker. He collided hard with the man’s ribs, knocking him off-balance, slamming him against the stone wall. It was better than I had done. The man fell on top of Owen, bringing his kneecap up sharply, smashing it hard into Owen’s chin, Owen’s neck snapping back, his head hitting the floor hard. Leaning over, the brute pulled a stretch of thick black hose from his back pocket. I saw a cruel smile cross the man’s face as he pummeled Owen, the tip of the hose slashing across his chest and side again and again, the sound of plastic slapping against skin so loud, it filled the dank cell.
Gathering my strength, I kicked out hard, and the man lost his balance but didn’t fall, turning from Owen then, back to me.
Pain still rang in my eardrums, my breath catching in my chest as if my entire body had voluntarily shut down. I saw Owen on the floor in front of me, unconscious, before the cat-o’-nine-tails hit my side.
I felt like I was flayed alive, teetering on the edge of consciousness as I absorbed a second hit, a third…
Then he stopped and sneered at me. “You are not going to die today, Colonel. But next time, I will kill you.”
I had been rendered utterly helpless. It was a lesson about absolute power.
“Fuck you,” was the most original thing I could think of to say.
“No, Colonel, fuck you,” he said, and hit me again.
There was nothing after that.
A hard slap in the face stirred me.
My head was pounding, and my eyes were blurry as I wrestled with consciousness. I screwed up my eyes and tried to shake my head to clear it. A man swam into my vision, but he was out of focus.
Another slap came.
“He’s awake now, sir.”
Think, I willed myself. I realized I was seated with my hands securely tied behind me, the plastic of the flex-cuffs biting sharply into my flesh. Pain still burned through me from where the whip had cut into my skin. I glanced around the room, taking in the surroundings. They had moved me. This room was big and square, with concrete walls, and natural light flowed in from somewhere in the ceiling. It was lavishly furnished but somehow all weirdly artificial, like a stage set. It was so odd and out of place.