Chapter Nineteen

Briggs

I watch her sleep on and off for the next few days. She’s been slurring through her words, and my fear is a concussion she may not wake from. I doze in and out, cursing my body for being so weak. She didn’t even rouse when Hiyam washed her, and that act in itself has me on edge. Day by day, I see her wasting away in her tattered uniform, and after nearly two months, I’m convinced we’ll never see the light of day again. Lips parted, she hangs deathly still in her shackles, as if she doesn’t have the strength remaining to right herself. Inside my chest beats a heart hanging on only for her. I want out of this fucking hell, but I refuse to stop fighting because she’s still breathing. I will her to open her eyes because I need to hear more of her plans. I need to see the fire in her eyes when I get fresh; I need to see her smile, even if it’s short-lived.

I need her.

I need her, and she won’t fucking wake up.

“Scottie,” I plead. I watch her until my eyes start to lose focus, searching for any sign of life.

“Come on, Scottie, move for me. Move. Please,” I croak as my heart shatters in my chest. “Come on, Scottie, goddamn it, please move for me.” I watch her hands, her chest, and I can’t be sure if they move or if I’m imagining it, which slowly drives me to the point of madness.

“Scottie!”

Her brows draw together as if she’s in pain, and I let out a breath of relief.

“Stop,” she whispers as if irritated with me. I can’t help my relieved chuckle. Even half-conscious, she’s a spitfire. I learned quickly her fire comes from being fiercely protective. That was the easiest thing to discover. Self-preservation flies out the window when it comes to protecting those she cares about. Mullins’s death will haunt her all the days of her life; I have no doubts about that. But she saved us both and bought us time, though she’ll never see it that way. Exhaustion I can no longer battle sets in as she slowly opens her eyes and licks her lips.

“How long was I out?”

“Jesus,” I say, choking back more relief. “Two days. How do you feel?”

“Thirsty.”

“Hiyam should be down soon; it’s been a while. We’ve been upgraded to half a potato and beans.”

They’ve been feeding us better the last three weeks, which makes me equally as suspicious as Scottie’s recent bath. My fear is that we’re both about to be exchanged—me for my death and her for a fate far worse. Swallowing, I bite back my fear.

Scottie’s eyes drift shut, and it’s all I can do to keep from protesting. She needs the sleep to heal, and I refuse to deprive her of it. The more she sleeps, the longer she’s unaware of where we remain trapped. Confident she’s out of danger, I finally let my eyes close to join her.

“No!” Scottie’s voice jars me awake. It’s early morning, and the sun’s just begun to filter into our cave, casting a soft glow. The sounds of wild dogs barking and bombs exploding in the distance isn’t enough to muffle her cries. She must be having a bad dream. Once my eyes have adjusted, I realize she’s no longer chained to the wall across from me, and my heart begins to flood with dread.

Something’s wrong. Frantically I attempt to clear my haze, searching the bunker, only to find her pinned beneath one of our captors next to the ladder. Crippling fear consumes me. Scottie’s filthy pants lie in a heap on the ground, the bare skin of her legs is on full display. I can’t let my eyes wander further without feeling like I, too, am violating her. There’s no question as to his intent as he lifts the hem of his long black shirt, and the buckle of his belt begins to rattle. His panting breaths echo throughout the confined space, suffocating me. “Get off of her! Get the fuck off!” I’m shouting into the void. That son of a bitch doesn’t even acknowledge that he hears me, too focused on his task.

“Briggs! Don’t—look away!” she orders just before his palm connects with her cheek, further fueling my anger.

“Scottie!” Pulling at the chains, I fight to get to her. “Goddamn it! Get the fuck off!” My bare feet dig into the sand as I twist and turn, trying to break free. Warm blood trickles down my arms, the cuffs cutting into my skin.

Please, God. No.

My heart beats impossibly fast.

Out of nowhere, another bearded cocksucker appears, kicking me with his booted foot right in the jaw. “Maybe you answer questions next time we ask?”

“Fuck you!” she screams, her voice filled with terror, as he grips both arms above her head, climbing on top of her, his pants unfastened just enough to reveal his erection jutting toward her.

“Motherfucker, you better kill me,” I shout to the man beside me, who smiles down at me with a sick satisfaction. They’ve found my weakness. They made sure it happened. Hiyam saw it the first fucking day. They kept us alive for this very purpose: so we’d become attached, a power play on our emotions. Where Katy succeeded in outsmarting them, just days ago; I’m failing.

I’m hot everywhere, burning up with pure rage, my veins ready to burst beneath my overheated skin.

Scottie cries out in anguish, and I break, fighting harder than I’ve ever fought before. I feel the pop in my shoulder as I jerk forward with everything I have and scream in agony at both the pain and the realization that I can’t save her.

She’s thrashing from side to side. The more she fights, the angrier he becomes. He’s so rough with her…

“Scottie,” I mewl, unable to look away from the brutal attack. Our connection is the only thing I have to offer.

“Scottie, look at me.” I’m kicked again, this time in the ribs. But I don’t feel it. I feel nothing but pent-up rage and frustration and helplessness. I can’t help her. I can’t save her.

My hands ball into fists at my sides, and hot tears stream down my cheeks as I watch her lose every ounce of fight in her. She goes limp beneath the savage as he violates her, sating his lust while destroying her innocence. With his every grunt, the bile climbs higher in my throat.

“Scottie, look at me.” Her head lolls to the side, her beautiful tortured eyes, red-rimmed and dripping silent tears, find mine across the bunker. She mouths my name. Briggs.

I nod, swallowing hard. I’m here. I’m right here, I mouth back.

Locked in our gaze, everything else disappears. I see the pain and fear leave her eyes. They’re replaced with trust, with a connection so powerful it steals my breath.

We’re no longer in this bunker. There’s no pain. No torture. We’ve drifted off to a place that’s ours alone.

She hasn’t spoken in hours. Not to Hiyam, when she came in to wash the blood from her legs and help her back into her clothes. Not to me. She’s checked out into a place I can’t reach, and it’s understandable.

She rocks across from me, her eyes cast down as I attempt to reach her in vain. I just wish she’d look at me, talk to me. Scream. Cry. Something other than that blank stare.

“Katy,” I try again, and finally her eyes snap to mine.

I swallow down a lump of emotion. “I’m here.”

Her eyes dart away.