Chapter Seventy-Five

Chapter Seventy-Five
Anika woke to movement.
A steady vibration beneath her body.
The low growl of an engine.
The uneven rhythm of tires striking cracks in the road.

For several seconds, she remained still.
Not because she was afraid to move.
Because she did not know which parts of her still could.

Pain pulsed behind her eyes. Her skull felt too small for the pressure building inside it, and each breath pulled against bruises spreading across her ribs. Her wrists burned where plastic restraints cut into her skin.

The air smelled of metal, diesel, and blood.

Memory returned in fragments.
The utility truck.
Dogs growling.
Static on the radio.
Men coming from the trees.
Lizzy fighting beside her.
A body dropping after Anika’s bullet struck his chest.
Smoke.
Hands grabbing her.
Something pressed over her mouth.
Then darkness.

Anika opened her eyes.

A narrow line of light slipped beneath a metal door several feet away. The space around her was windowless, the walls close enough that the sound of the engine echoed through them.
A cargo compartment.
She was lying on her side, ankles bound, hands secured behind her back.

The vehicle leaned into a turn.
Her stomach rolled.
Anika swallowed hard and forced herself to breathe through the nausea.

The baby.
Panic struck so violently that her vision blurred.
She twisted onto her back, ignoring the pain tearing through her shoulder. Her hands strained uselessly against the restraints as she tried to reach her abdomen.
She could not.

Her heart pounded harder.
She assessed what she could.
No sharp abdominal pain.
No cramping.
No warmth spreading between her legs.
No obvious blood beneath her.
That meant nothing, yet everything.

“Lizzy?”
Her voice scraped against her throat.
No answer.
Anika turned her head.
A shape lay several feet away, half-hidden in the darkness.
“Lizzy.”
Still nothing.

Anika rolled toward her, using her shoulder and knees to drag herself across the metal floor. Every movement sent fire through her ribs, but she continued until her forehead struck denim.
Lizzy’s leg.
“Lizzy, wake up.”
She pushed against her with one shoulder.
Nothing.

“Elizabeth.”
The name came out harder.
Commanding.
Lizzy groaned.
Relief nearly broke Anika open.
“Come on,” she whispered. “Wake up.”
Lizzy’s body shifted. A sharp breath hissed through her teeth.
“Anika?”
“I’m here.”
“Where—”
“I don’t know.”

The vehicle struck a pothole.
Both women lifted from the floor and slammed down again.
Lizzy cried out.
Anika twisted toward her. “Where are you hurt?”
“My head.” Lizzy’s words came slowly. “Shoulder. Maybe my wrist.”
“Can you move your fingers?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
“Your feet?”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
“Any trouble breathing?”
“No.” Lizzy inhaled carefully. “You?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re lying.”
“Probably.”
Lizzy went silent.

Anika could hear her breathing change as awareness returned.
“The dogs.”
The words were barely audible.
Anika closed her eyes.
The last thing she remembered clearly was Ares fighting through the smoke.
Blood on his muzzle.
Nyx lunging at a man twice her size.
Both of them refusing to retreat.
“I don’t know,” she said.
Lizzy made a broken sound.
“They wouldn’t leave us.”
“No.”
Anika forced the word out through the pressure crushing her chest.
“They wouldn’t.”
Which meant they were dead.
Or injured.
Or still trying to follow.
She could not think about it.
Not yet.

The vehicle turned again.
Anika concentrated on the motion.
At twenty-seven seconds, they turned left.
“What are you doing?” Lizzy whispered.
“Tracking movement.”
“You know where we are?”
“No. But I intend to.”

Lizzy exhaled slowly.
The sound steadied.
Anika listened beyond the engine.
No voices from the cab.
No traffic passing close by.
The interior rattled with every bump, suggesting an older truck or poorly maintained transport van.

There was something loose near the back door, metallic and light, sliding several inches each time the vehicle changed direction.
A tool.
A chain.
Anything could become useful.

She shifted her wrists.
The restraints tightened.
Too secure to slip.
But plastic weakened through friction.
Anika felt along the floor behind her, searching for an edge.
Her fingers found ridged metal.
Not sharp enough.
She kept searching.

Her voice cracked through the silence.
“I was going to tell him tonight.”
“You will.”
Anika stared into the darkness.
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Lizzy—”
“You are going to tell him yourself.”
The certainty in her voice was too fierce to argue with.
Anika leaned her head back against Lizzy’s shoulder.

The van began to slow.
Both women went silent.
Gravel popped beneath the tires.
The road became rougher. Branches scraped along the sides of the vehicle.
Remote.
Wooded.
The engine strained as they climbed.

Anika resumed counting.
Forty-three seconds uphill.
A sharp right turn.
Then flat ground.
The van stopped.
Doors opened somewhere beyond the compartment.
Male voices.
At least three.
One close.
Two farther away.

Anika shifted until her back pressed against Lizzy’s.
“Can you reach my restraints?” she whispered.
Lizzy’s fingers found the plastic around Anika’s wrists.
“Tight.”
“Find the locking block.”
“I have it.”
“Turn it toward you.”
Footsteps approached.
Lizzy worked faster.
The plastic shifted slightly.
Not enough.

The metal door rattled.
Anika straightened.
“Stop.”
Lizzy withdrew her hands.
The lock disengaged.
Light flooded the compartment.

Anika squinted against it, forcing herself to look instead of turning away.
A man stood outside wearing black tactical clothing. Bruises darkened one side of his face, and four deep grooves crossed his forearm beneath a blood-soaked bandage.

Anika memorized him.
Height.
Build.
Weapon on right hip.
Knife at left ankle.
Anger in his eyes.
Another man climbed into the van behind him.
“On your feet.”
Neither woman moved.

The injured man stepped closer.
“I said—”
Anika drove both feet into his injured arm.
He screamed.
Lizzy lunged at the second man, catching him beneath the knee with her shoulder. He crashed against the wall as Anika rolled, trying to reach the knife strapped to the first man’s ankle.
Her fingers brushed the handle.
A boot struck her ribs.
Pain exploded through her body.
She collapsed against the floor but held on.
The knife came halfway free.

A third man appeared in the doorway and pressed a gun toward her head.
“Enough.”
Anika froze.
Not because of the weapon pointed at her.
Because the first man had recovered and now held his pistol against Lizzy’s temple.
The room narrowed.
“Let it go,” he said.
Anika released the knife.
It clattered against the metal floor.
The man kicked it away.

Blood ran from beneath his bandage.
His hatred was almost satisfying.
He seized Anika by the hair and dragged her upright.
“You killed my brother.”
Anika met his eyes.
“He should have stayed home.”
His fist drew back.

“Stop.”
The voice came from outside the van.
Quiet.
Controlled.
Familiar.
Every man immediately stilled.
The injured attacker released Anika.
Footsteps crossed the gravel.
Slow.
Unhurried.

A shadow fell across the open doors before the man himself appeared.
Dmitri looked into the compartment.
His gaze passed over Lizzy first.
Then settled on Anika.
A faint smile touched his mouth.
“Anika Valeriya Carter.”

Anika forced herself upright despite the pain.
“Dmitri.”

His smile deepened.
“Good,” he said. “You already know who to blame.”