Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 167(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 167(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
“Take it slow, honey. I don’t want you to get sick.”
“More,” I croaked.
“I know. I get it. Let me help you so you don’t get too much at once.”
It wasn’t like I had much choice. My body felt like it weighed a ton. My eyelids too. But, God, I was so fucking thirsty!
The truck bounced sharply. Every time the guy pressed the lip of the bottle to my mouth, my whole being focused on getting as much water as he’d let me have.
When we hit a bump, water splashed over my lower face and dribbled down my chin and neck. It felt like heaven. I knew I should be worried about this. About getting caught and having my legs chopped off -- and worse -- but all I could concentrate on was that delicious, invigorating water.
Shots rang out and the other women in the truck screamed. I probably would have too if I hadn’t been concentrating on the water. More gunfire -- this time, it came from us. The men in the truck were shooting back. The man holding me shifted so I slid down to the floor of the vehicle. He tucked a blanket around me before shouldering the rifle and pulled out his own handgun. When I whimpered, his gaze landed on me again.
“I’ll be right back. Just gonna teach these fuckers a lesson.” He waited until I nodded at him before he moved. Things got a little hazy then as dizziness nearly pulled me under. Somehow, he slid a window open, stuck out his rifle, and started shooting.
I watched in silence as the other men brought out assault-style rifles and fired at the vehicle -- or vehicles -- following us. They spoke quietly and to each other. I could hear their voices but couldn’t understand what they were saying. The ringing in my ears, from both the drug I’d been given and the report of the gunshots, made it hard to focus on anything else, other than the water bottle in my hand.
With my man not holding me back anymore, I gulped greedily at the water until the bottle was empty. Then I thought about the other women and was instantly ashamed and horrified at my actions.
“I’m so sorry,” I croaked out as I met the gaze of another woman in the vehicle beside me. “I didn’t even offer.”
“We all have water.” Her voice was as rough as mine but thickly accented with Spanish. “And no one else did either.” She gave me a small smile. “Is what happens when we’re all turned into animals.” She wasn’t wrong.
Shots continued to ring out. With every bump and slide of the truck, we were all jostled around. I tried to brace myself, but it was impossible. Even though I felt a little better after drinking the water, the drugs in my system still made it nearly impossible to focus, zapping what little strength I might have had.
The truck slid sideways before coming to a stop. Someone opened the back of the vehicle, and the door was shoved wide open. There was muffled cursing as well as more gunfire as wind and rain whooshed in, instantly soaking us.
Men shouted. Guns fired. Women screamed. All I could do was sit there and await my fate. The man who’d carried me out and fed me water looked back over his shoulder and our gazes collided. His was ice-cold, his features carved from stone. He reminded me of the men who’d held us captive, the men they’d rescued us from. There was that kind of intensity and cruelty there. For the first time since he’d carried me out, I wondered if I might not have landed in as bad a situation as I’d just come from.
He held my gaze for a couple of seconds before giving me a slight nod and turning back to the fight.
And just like that, my fate was sealed. I might not know what awaited me when we got out of this mess, but I knew I’d forever look back at this moment and know I was alive -- for good or ill -- because of this man. Whether I lived or died in the back of this truck, filthy, half dead, and drugged to the gills, would depend on this man’s will. Because he was a warrior. The warrior. If he decided I was worthy, he’d keep me safe. If not? Well. He was the one to pull me out of hell. I’d trust him to get me across the gates.
With that last thought, I let the blackness of a drug-induced sleep have me. It wasn’t like it mattered much anyway. If death was coming for me, maybe it was better not to see it coming.
Chapter Two
Morgue
“Motherfuckers.” I muttered the curse as I fired off another round. This one got the driver of the truck. The vehicle drifted sharply off the road and into a huge rock. Men standing in the back firing over the cab flew forward and into the sand of the surrounding area. “Clutch! We got ’em! Hard stop!”