Pain infusesevery inch of my body. But my sense of satisfaction surpasses it when Pedro steps back from me, heaving like he just ran a marathon.
Really, he just threw a couple of punches. He should be embarrassed. Alpha Team X would be screaming in my face if I quit after so few hits.
His dark eyes narrow when he gazes at the damage he's done to my face.
The right side of my jaw aches so intensely that I wonder if he cracked a tooth. The skin above my eye feels inflated like a balloon, and heat seeps down from the swelling. But still, I force a smile just to rile him.
"I'm ready for my close-up." I wink my battered eye.
There's no way he can film me now. We both know it. Not after I goaded him into a little temper tantrum and he couldn't keep his fists to himself. Even the Noth royals would be up in arms to see an omega beaten to hell. It would be a PR nightmare for them. Their own people would riot.
"Lock her back up." He swipes a fist across his forehead in a frustrated manner, and I can practically smell the self-loathing, the scent akin to fish oil.
Normally, that would disgust me, but right now, it makes me giddy.
I've bought myself time.
And time is exactly what I need to figure out my escape.
Two of his goons lift me beneath my armpits and drag me past the plastic sheeting and through a long, dimly lit hall. They open a door and surprise me by leading me down a set of steps to a basement room. They shove open another door at the bottom of the steps.
Dark and mildewed, it's lined with cinderblocks. I'm not a huge fan of that because between those walls and the cement floor, tunneling out doesn't seem like a huge possibility. But there's a boiler in here and some other mechanical equipment. Piping. Air vents, though none look big enough to pull off aMission Impossibleescape crawl. Dammit.
Still, I'll think of something.
A rat squeaks from somewhere in the shadows, and one of the guys carrying me makes a disgusted sound.
Meanwhile, my mind whistles alerts as some of the far-fetched lectures I sat through at Eros come zinging back to me. Tips like,Take stock of everything about your location. Make a mental map. Turn your enemies against one another.
So many bits of prisoner-of-war wisdom crowd their way into my head that there's hardly space for fear.
Or perhaps Pedro's blows pulped that part of my brain.
In any case, I feel far more equipped than last time the Noths held me as I'm dragged toward a steel support beam beneath an air vent and chained to it with a length of chain long enough to reach a bucket in the corner and an ankle cuff that’s too tight. The soldiers are a little gentler than they have to be, which I appreciate as I'm lowered onto my ass. It's better than being thrown.
But I sense a little bit of tension vibrating through both alphas. It manifests in their scents, which get a tinge muskier as they move and tersely bark orders at one another like, "No, over there," and "Let go, I've got it."
Either they don't like what Pedro did to me…or they don't like each other.
Hmm…
I can work with that.
For the first time since I’ve been taken, a tiny whisper of excitement unfurls inside me. It’s minuscule, like a curl of smoke from a birthday candle.
But it’s a hell of a thing to have hope.
And I’m not going to squander it.
In fact, I come up with an impromptu little plan and execute it on the spot.
Leaning over to the guy on the right as he tugs on my chains to check them, I stage whisper, "Ryan, don't break cover. I've got this. Pedro gets a few more punches in, and my jaw breaks. Then—ta-da!—no ransom video."
"What?" He glances at me, eyebrows jutting up toward his hairline. He glances over at the other guard, a shorter man with a buzz cut and a thin mustache. "I think he fucked her up."
"Why did she call you ‘Ryan’?" his companion asks with a head tilt that I love.
A head tiltthat screams suspicion.
