The sound of the cage opening made Stavros stir. The slightest of movements, but it took everything. Felt as if simply blinking took everything.

Drawing breath definitely wrung him ragged.

He’d given up on trying to predict when Daniel Nieto would show his face again. Time came and went at a snail’s pace. He could predict nothing.

Other than Henan would fuck with him.

That he could count on.

Footsteps drew closer to where he lay, curled in a semi-fetal position on the thin piece of material posing as a mattress, but Stavros kept his eyes closed and waited. He expected Henan to come at him the way he’d been doing since the last time Daniel walked out the cage.

“If it were up to me, you’d already be dead.”

Stavros opened his eyes at those word, spoken low, but clear enough that there’d be no mistaking them. The sentiment behind them wasn’t surprising, not at all.

His guard leaned against the cage, a plate in his hand piled high with food. It smelled greasy and hot. Stavros swore he saw the steam rising. He drooled. Food was such a scarce commodity.

“If I had my way, I’d dismember you while you’re still alive.” Henan dipped his finger in the food then stuck it into his mouth, watching Stavros watch him. “Just to hear your screams.”

“I’m, uh—” Stavros cleared his throat. “I’m not really the screaming type, lo siento.” The last thing he should be doing in his weakened state was antagonizing Henan, the man who held his sustenance in his hands. Literally. But Stavros couldn’t help it.

Henan pushed away from the cage, face twisted into a scowl. “You would scream.” He slammed a booted foot down on Stavros’ ankle. “I would make you.”

Despite the pain, Stavros didn’t look away. “You would try.” He forced a smile. “And you’d get an A for effort.” Henan was definitely not on the short list of things Stavros feared.

Daniel Nieto on the other hand…

Henan smashed the plate of food into Stavros’ face with such force, he fell back onto the mattress.

Ah shit.

He would never get used to Henan’s kicks. All over his body, most to his torso. He threw his hands up, swiping at the food on his face and in his eyes while trying to block those kicks.

“Una inocente,” Henan raved with each kick. “Ella era una inocente.” She was an innocent. “You killed an innocent.”

He wasn’t telling Stavros something he didn’t already know. The Nietos had been a job. A fucking job that changed his life. But he was a business man. It was what he did.

“She didn’t deserve it.” Henan sounded more like a grieving spouse than the actual grieving spouse. “Beautiful.” His kicks faltered, as did his tone. “She was beautiful and good.” He stumbled backward, and Stavros lifted his head.

Henan had staggered a couple feet away, and was watching him with a dark expression, a mix of heartbreak, bloodlust, and actual loss.

Well. Stavros wiped at whatever was sliding down his cheek—blood or grease from the food, he didn’t know—and smirked. “The lovely Petra. You were in love with her.” Did Daniel Nieto know? “How would your boss react, I wonder?” He licked at his finger without bothering to see what was on it as he winked. “Should we tell him and find out?”

The menace in Henan’s gaze shifted as his body did, moving closer to Stavros. “I changed my mind.” His hand dropped, went behind his back.

“Oh?” Stavros lifted a brow.

“You don’t need to scream,’” Henan said. He pointed a gun at Stavros. A Glock, if he wasn’t mistaken. “You just need to die.”

Well, fuck.

The second bullet hurt more than the first, and that was saying something, because that first shot felt as though someone had punched him in the chest with a steel fist wrapped in fire. By the time the second bullet blasted into his left shoulder, Stavros was face up on the floor, sprawled out.

Staring at the ceiling.

Death, and he didn’t even get to taste Daniel Nieto.

That shit sucked.

Awareness faded slowly. He had enough time to lie on that cold floor, immobile and shivering, staring at nothing, and appreciate the unfairness of it.

He got killed by the help?

If he wasn’t frozen in the pain of his impending death, he might laugh. As it was, he couldn’t move. Even his eyes refused to blink. Yet he faded. As he sank into the waiting shadows pulling at him, Henan crouched over him, almost sitting on Stavros’ midsection.

Dick in hand.

Peeing on him.

He swore he heard Daniel Nieto’s calm, unflappable voice.

He swore he saw Daniel’s face.

Which meant that even in death, Stavros couldn’t help but have Daniel kneel for him. He would’ve smiled at that.

Except, he was dead.

* * *

“Oh fuck!” Pain was all Stavros knew. His brain was foggy with it. Everything hurt, inside and out. He didn’t know where, how or on what to focus. His eyelids trembled when he tried lifting them, and the bright lights all around him burned them until they watered.

Fuck. Again.

So he wasn’t dead? Was that disappointment in his gut, or simply more pain from Henan’s bullet? He tried sitting up, and a hand settled on the back of his neck.

“Easy. Easy.”

Daniel.

Stavros had to rethink the not being dead part, because Daniel Nieto was what? Taking care of him? He stared, blinking furiously to make his jittery vision focus as his captor knelt next to him, and tipped Stavros’ face up.

“Are you all right?”

Felt as if he’d died and woken up in an alternate universe. “I’m fine.” He was beyond hoarse. Throat on fire.

Daniel’s lips twitched the tiniest bit. “Are you?”

He’d have shrugged, except his shoulder was having none of it. “You’re on your knees before me, and you know how I feel about that, so yes.” His voice wasn’t up to its usual snark, but he made it work. “I’m fine.”

Daniel’s gaze stayed on him for a few heartbeats, where Stavros held his breath and tried not to let his confusion show. He was safe when Daniel wanted to kill him, when they were playing that fucked up game of torture as foreplay. This?

This was out of his wheelhouse.

“So Henan shot me, huh?” he asked, because he didn’t know how to deal with this. No bloodshed. No anger. No threat of death. Just Daniel Nieto with a calm hand on the back of Stavros’ neck, holding him upright.

Keeping him steady.

“Sí.”

If he hadn’t been busy getting lost in the murky dark of Daniel’s eyes, Stavros would have missed the flash of anger that burned bright for a quick second then disappeared.

“I’d have thought that would make you happy,” he muttered.

Daniel’s nostrils flared.

“You should give him a raise or something.” He should shut his mouth, but he didn’t know when to quit where Daniel was concerned. When the other man didn’t respond to that, Stavros asked, “Did you know Henan was in love with your wife?”

Daniel dropped his hand from Stavros’ neck. “Sí.” He got to his feet and stared down at Stavros in silence, hands fisted at his sides, expression as smooth as glass.

Jesus. “Where am I?” Stavros looked around for the first time. He was on a bed. An actual bed, in what looked like a bedroom. At least the beginnings of one. The place was empty save for the bed, the pale blue walls spotless. There was one window to the far left corner of the room, but it had no curtains and he made out the thick bars covering it.

Daniel didn’t answer his query. Instead he held up his hand then opened it palm up. Two white pills. “For the pain.”

Stavros snorted. For the pain, huh? “Why aren’t I dead?” He tried to rise again, but his body wasn’t having it. “Ung.” He fell backward onto the pillows, and Daniel was right there.

Helping him. What kind of sick alternate reality was this?

“You need to take it easy,” Daniel murmured as he slid a finger over the bloodied bandage covering the wound to Stavros’ upper left shoulder. “Take the pain medication and rest.”

“No.” Stavros grabbed his wrist when Daniel made to pull away. The other man flinched under his touch, but he didn’t resist much. “Why am I alive? What is this?” He looked around quickly before meeting Daniel’s expressionless eyes. “Another sick way to try and break me? Because it won’t work, I can promise you that.” Never mind that his body felt very much like that of a broken doll at the moment.

“Your death is mine,” Daniel said simply. He pulled his hand from Stavros’ grip slowly, until only their fingertips touched. Until they were connected by just that, the barest brush of fingertips. “I decide when and how.”

“Yet you put a fox to guard the hen house.” Stavros cocked his head. “Or was he acting on your orders?”

“Don’t try to figure me out, Mr. Konstantinou.” Daniel broke their flimsy connection, placing the two pills next to Stavros on the mattress. Then he picked up a bottle of water from the floor, and positioned it next to the painkillers. “Take the medication, I need you back in fighting form.”

Stavros licked his chapped lips at Daniel’s retreating back. “You should know by now, I’m always in fighting form, Daniel.”

Daniel’s disbelieving snort lingered long after the door closed behind him. Stavros stared up at the ceiling as he lay on his back. No way was he taking any medication that could dull his senses more than they’d already been dulled.

Daniel Nieto was taking care of him. Dressing his wounds. Giving him medication. What was his captor’s angle?

He stayed like that, doing what Daniel warned him not to do. Trying to figure the man out. Until he fell asleep.

A sleep filled with breath-stealing pain and chills that warped his mind until he didn’t know who he was or the identity of the man talking softly to him. Touching him gently, forcing liquid down his throat. He alternated between flashing hot and trembling cold, curled up on the soft mattress that still seemed to find every bruise on his body and press just so on it.

Pain surrounded him, and Stavros simply floated on it. Trying desperately to grasp on to anything that appeared solid to him. Like the raspy drone of the man wiping his brow. He knew that man, knew even in his lost, fevered state to be wary of him. But he represented something Stavros desperately wanted.

Something he wasn’t brave enough to take.

Yet.