Chapter 56 Chapter 56
The knife pressed against my throat, and I felt a warm trickle of blood slide down my neck. The leader's breath smelled like cigarettes and cheap whiskey, and his hand shook slightly as he held the blade. Not from fear but from anticipation.
"Tell us about Alexander's weapons cache," he said. "Where does he store them? How many men guard the location?"
"I do not know." My voice came out stronger than I felt. "I negotiate deals. I do not handle storage."
"Liar." He pressed harder, and the blade bit deeper. "Everyone in The Syndicate knows where the weapons are kept. It is basic information."
"Then you know more than I do."
He pulled the knife away and backhanded me across the face. Pain exploded through my jaw, and I tasted copper. Blood filled my mouth, and I spat it onto the concrete floor between us.
"We can do this all night," he said. "Eventually, you will talk. They all do."
"Then you have a long night ahead of you."
Another man stepped forward. Younger than the leader, with nervous energy that made him dangerous. "Let me try. I have ways of making people talk that do not involve questions."
"Not yet. Alexander needs to recognize her when we send her back." The leader grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him. "But soon. Very soon you will beg to tell us everything."
They left me alone in the room with my hands zip-tied behind my back and blood dripping from my split lip. The concrete was cold beneath me, and every breath sent sharp pains through my ribs where one of them had kicked me. But I was alive, and that meant I still had a chance.
I thought about Damien. About the way he looked at me like I was his entire world. About the promises we had made in the dark when we thought no one could hear us. About the future we had started to imagine together.
If I died here, he would blame himself. He would carry that guilt for the rest of his life, and it would destroy him piece by piece. I could not let that happen. Would not let that happen.
The door opened again, and the leader returned with a chair. He sat down and studied me like I was a puzzle he needed to solve.
"Your boyfriend is Damien Kane," he said. "Former Syndicate. Current pain in Alexander's side. We have been watching him for months."
My heart stopped. "He is not my boyfriend."
"Please. We have photos. Videos. Evidence of your relationship." He pulled out his phone and showed me a picture of Damien and me kissing outside a safe house. "You are in love with him. Which means you will do anything to protect him."
"You are wrong."
"Am I? Because I think if I threaten to kill Damien, you will tell me everything I want to know. I think your love for him is stronger than your loyalty to Alexander." He leaned closer. "So what will it be? Damien's life or The Syndicate's secrets?"
"Go to hell."
He laughed. "You have spirit. I admire that. But spirit does not stop bullets, and Damien is an easy target. He thinks he is invincible, but everyone has weaknesses. His weakness is you."
"If you touch him, I will kill you myself."
"Bold words from someone who is tied up and bleeding." He stood and walked to the door. "Think about my offer. You have one hour to decide. After that, I send my men to put a bullet in Damien's head, and you get to live with knowing you could have saved him."
The door closed, and I was alone again. Panic clawed at my throat, and I struggled against the zip ties until my wrists were raw and bleeding. But they held. I was trapped, and Damien was in danger, and there was nothing I could do.
Unless the tracker worked. Unless he had already seen the signal and was coming for me.
I pressed my back against the wall and closed my eyes. Focused on breathing. On staying calm. On trusting that Damien would find me before these men made good on their threats.
Time crawled. Minutes felt like hours. My body ached, and my throat was dry, and every sound made me flinch. Footsteps in the hallway. Voices arguing. The distant sound of traffic outside.
Then gunfire.
Close. Too close. The walls shook with the force of it, and I heard men shouting. Running. More shots and the sound of bodies hitting the floor.
The door burst open, and Damien stood there with a gun in each hand and blood on his face. Our eyes met, and relief flooded through me so strong it hurt.
"Lisa." He crossed the room in three steps and cut through the zip ties with a knife. "Are you hurt?"
"I am fine. We need to leave."
"Can you walk?"
"Yes."
He pulled me to my feet, and I swayed but stayed upright. Outside the room, bodies littered the hallway, and I tried not to look at their faces. Tried not to think about the fact that Damien had killed them all to reach me.
We ran through the factory with gunfire echoing behind us. Damien moved like a soldier and kept me behind him as we navigated corridors and stairwells. His men appeared from different directions and formed a protective circle around us.
"Exit is ahead," one of them shouted. "Thirty seconds."
We burst through a door into an alley and cold air hit my face. Cars waited with engines running and Damien shoved me into the back of one before climbing in after me. The driver hit the gas and we shot forward.
Something exploded behind us. Glass shattered. Metal screamed. And Damien threw himself over me as bullets punched through the rear window.
Then we were around a corner and the gunfire faded. The driver took turns at random and I lost track of where we were going. My ears rang and my hands shook and when I looked down, I saw blood on Damien's shirt.
"You are bleeding."
"It is nothing." But his face was pale and sweat beaded on his forehead.
I pulled his jacket aside and saw the wound. A bullet had grazed his side and blood soaked through his shirt in an expanding circle. Not immediately fatal but bad enough that he needed medical attention.
"We need to get you to a hospital."
"No hospitals. They report gunshot wounds." He pressed his hand against the injury and grimaced. "There is a doctor. Someone who does not ask questions."
The driver nodded and changed direction. We pulled up to a small clinic twenty minutes later and two men helped Damien inside. The doctor took one look at him and pointed to a room in the back.
I followed them in and watched as the doctor examined the wound. His hands moved with practiced efficiency and his expression remained neutral even when Damien hissed in pain.
"The bullet nicked an artery," the doctor said. "You are lucky it was not worse. But you need stitches and you need to stay still for at least three days."
"Do it."
The doctor worked quickly while I held Damien's hand. His grip was tight enough to hurt, but I did not pull away. Could not pull away when he had taken this bullet because of me.
When it was over and Damien was bandaged, the doctor stepped out to get antibiotics. We were alone in the small room with just the sound of our breathing and the hum of medical equipment.
"You saved my life," I said. "Again."
"I will always save you. No matter what it costs." He reached up and touched my face. "You are everything to me, Lisa. Everything."
"You got shot."
"Worth it."
My phone buzzed. Alexander. The message was short and brutal. "Where are you? Victor's man is dead, and you are missing. Come back now, or Mia pays the price."
I showed Damien the message and watched his jaw tighten. "Stay with me. Let me heal. Then we figure this out together."