Chapter Twenty-Five
Thrasher bit back a groan, unwilling to give the guy now cutting his arm the satisfaction of hearing his pain.
“Who are the two blond giants staying at Ozele’s in Playa Pilar?” the guy demanded, slowly sliding his blade across Thrasher’s chest. “And their white-haired giant companion?”
Unable to lift his head, Thrasher rasped, “You’ve been watching too many movies, dumbass.”
“I’ll show you who’s the dumbass!” Resting the tip of the knife over Thrasher’s heart, the guy lifted his palm, preparing to hammer the blade home.
“You can’t kill him!” someone snapped, jerking the knife from the guy’s grasp. “Kerik doesn’t want him dead yet. He wants information, you idiot. Not a corpse.”
Idiot made a sound in the back of his throat and stalked off.
The newcomer took over Thrasher’s torture. “I know you’re tired of all this, Escabar. Why don’t you just tell us what you know, and I’ll take you out of your misery. It’ll be quick and painless.”
Thrasher could barely see the guy’s feet through the slits in his swollen eyes. He noticed that he wore white running shoes instead of boots like most of his tormentors wore. “Go fuck yourself.”
“Wrong answer.” Pulling a knife from the pocket of his fatigues, he rested the blade against Thrasher’s shoulder, cut a small place and then peeled the skin down his arm.
Thrasher’s entire body shook with the agony now screaming through him. His teeth clenched together hard enough that he tasted blood.
“Did that feel good?” the nameless guy taunted. “How about we try the other arm?”
And so it went. With every question that Thrasher refused to answer, his tormentor would peel another patch of skin away from his body until blessed darkness overtook him.
* * * *
Thrasher came awake to the sounds of arguing in the distance. Though he couldn’t make out the words, he could hear Kerik’s voice amongst them, as well as…Howell’s.
Straining to lift his head, Thrasher fought to crack his eyes open, but his eyelids were swollen shut. The pain throbbing in his body paled in comparison to the agony of the missing patches of skin.
The arguing suddenly stopped and footsteps could be heard approaching. “Well, look what we have here.”
Thrasher would recognize Howell’s voice anywhere.
“Still not ready to talk?” Howell sneered. “I think they’ve gone too easy on you. Did you know that the most sensitive place on the human male is the scrotum? I bet if we took a little skin from there, you’d sing like a canary.”
Keeping his expression blank, Thrasher swallowed back a retort. The last thing he wanted was to piss Howell off enough to follow through on his threat.
Thrasher opened his mouth as much as his battered lips would allow and moaned out a word he knew would make little sense. But Howell didn’t need to know that.
If he could keep their attention on him long enough for Kaspyn and the others to sail away, his death wouldn’t be in vain.
Kaspyn…she would eventually go back to Arkadia, mate with a Bracadyte male and bear him strong, healthy sons. The pain that vision produced hurt more than any physical torture ever could. Not that Thrasher didn’t want that life for Kaspyn, he did. He only wished it could have been with him.
“Thrasher?”
The sound of Tony’s voice inside his head was a balm to Thrasher’s soul.
“Thrasher, can you hear me?”
“I…hear you.”
Relief washed through their connection; Tony’s relief. “Hang on, my friend. We’re coming.”
“No!” Thrasher vehemently sent back. “Don’t come here. They have at least a hundred men with high-powered weapons. You’ll never survive. Get Kaspyn and the others to the boat. Now. Save her, Vaughn. It’s too late for me.”
“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen, Escabar. Even if I was inclined to leave you here, which I’m not, Kaspyn wouldn’t cooperate. She loves you, you damn fool.”
Warmth flooded Thrasher’s heart at Tony’s admission. “Get her away from here, Vaughn. The things they would do to her if she’s caught are incomprehensible. Don’t let them take her, Tony! Do you hear me? Swear to me that you will keep her safe.”
“You have my word,” Tony swore, his voice fading from Thrasher’s mind.
Howell’s voice brought Thrasher’s attention back to him. If Thrasher could keep the ex-president busy, Kaspyn had a better chance of escaping unnoticed. Though Thrasher was more than aware that Kerik had men patrolling the trees, he also knew the majority of the rebels were waiting on Howell’s orders before anyone else left the camp.
Thrasher made another unrecognizable sound in his throat.
“Bring him some water!” Howell barked, telling Thrasher that he was more than interested in what he had to say.
Howell gripped Thrasher by the chin and lifted. “I’ve been waiting for this day a long time. Once your friends leave for Aukrabah, we’ll surround that boat and finally have Vaughn in our grasp. Not that I particularly want the washed-up piece of shit, but Klause will.” Howell’s voice sounded far away, as if it came from the end of a tunnel.
Thrasher knew all too well what Howell’s plan was. He’d figured it out days ago. Little did the ex-president know that Vaughn already knew what to expect and would be lying in wait to take Howell’s men out.
Thrasher only wished that he could be there for the fight. But he would be there in spirit, along with the other Bracadytes that had gone on before him.
The wind suddenly picked up, and a soft humming sound swirled around Thrasher’s tormented body; the same sound he’d heard during his initiation.
He attempted to open his eyes to no avail. But he didn’t need to see to recognize what surrounded him. The shadows of the ancient ones had come to take him home.
Thrasher knew that death had come to claim him. He could feel his life force leaving his body with every drop of precious blood that spilled from his wounds. His only regret was never having the chance to tell Kaspyn how he felt, never taking her into his arms and making love to her the way she deserved to be loved. “I love you, Kaspyn…”