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I’ve hadbad hangovers before. This wasn’t a hangover. I woke up in one of the rings of hell. The cell I was in wasn’t big enough for me to lie down in without folding. Six by six feet was my best guess.

And I had plenty of time to guess. I woke up in the dim room, the overhead light flickering in a pattern that was torture on its own, in addition to the constant cold, the hard ground with no blankets or padding, and the hole in the ground that was the only type of bathroom.

Every day, once a day, a cup of water and bowl of some mush was pushed through a panel that would open and close at the bottom of the door..

The only way to get more food and water was to return the cup and bowl to the panel it came from.

And that’s how every day was. At least, I called them days in my head. It could’ve been longer. Could’ve been shorter. There was no way to tell the passing of time except for that cup and bowl.

And not one person came in. There was no interrogation. There was no demand or ransom, just that dim room and boredom. Dark misery. All I wanted was something to break up the misery.

When I got it, I wished I hadn’t.

* * *

I laughedin relief when the two men came for me. I had been strong and formidable when I’d been thrown into this room. But it had been so long since I’d used my muscles that I couldn’t put up more than a token fight as they grabbed me beneath the arms and dragged me down the dark hallway.

We were probably in a basement, since the walls were covered with wires and pipes. It was the guts of some sort of building. Any writing I saw was in Russian, and I couldn’t read a fucking thing.

One of the thugs carrying me kicked open a door. The cold metallic smell of blood reached my nose before any of my other senses registered the hell that was coming.

Then there was just pain.

* * *

“Stop,”bit out Alek as he shot up, immediately pacing back and forth in the room. “You’re telling me that while I thought you were fucking your way across Russia, you were being psychologically and physically tortured?”

Of course Alek would think that. He’d stopped me before I’d gotten to the worse parts, and a deep part of me was grateful. Maybe now I’d never have to tell him. He looked like he was about to rip his own skin off and Becks had her head tucked tightly into my shoulder. She wouldn’t even look at me.

The pity in the room was thick and it made me nauseous. I hadn’t ever wanted to tell my brother what I’d gone through, and this was exactly why.

And he didn’t know the worst parts.

I tried to break it down in the most basic and impersonal terms I could. “Black Thorn wants our operation. When they knew I was on their territory, they wanted to convert me. But they don’t work like organized crime. They don’t get loyalty through money and blackmail. They get it through breaking a person down and remaking them in their own image. So, they broke me down until I was barely a person anymore, and then built me back up. When they thought I was their perfect soldier, they sent me back here to facilitate their takeover.”

“But it didn’t work. You got away.”

Fucking Alek. He was a scary motherfucker, but he could be damn stupid sometimes. “Got away? I haven’t gotten anywhere. They’re not going to let me go, brother. I belong to them. Black Thorn doesn’t fail. And if I’m a rogue agent, they’re going to want to bring me back in and fix me.”

“What if they can’t fix you?” Becks asked the question against my neck, the soft words tickling the skin in a mockery of the serious situation we were in.

“If they can’t fix me, they’ll write me off,” I said simply.

Alek’s jaw was tight, and he was physically shaking as he tried to process everything. “Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice wavered at the very end of the question, the barest hint of honest emotion poking through.

“I was on their territory. Their country. Their fucking continent. There was no going behind their backs. Besides, being in their control was the best position to know what they were working on. It was how I knew there was a rat.”

Becks squeezed my wrist and then laced her fingers with mine. Did she know what I wasn’t saying? Did she know how much I wasn’t telling Alek? How much could she see through me?

I avoided looking at her so she wouldn’t give me away. “It was fucked up, but I wasn’t in my right mind. If you want to hate me, if Daisy wants to hate me, then hate me. But this is what happened.”

Alek cursed under his breath before backing out of the room. “This isn’t over,” he muttered before striding out, slamming the door behind him.

My head fell back against the pillow, and I let out a deep breath.

“He’s mad at himself,” said Becks as I stared at the ceiling, contemplating all the ways I could murder it.

“He’s mad at the world. So am I. We were broken beyond repair long before this.”

She shifted, her head leaving my neck and the absence feeling cold and barren. Was she going to go now? Search out her friend? Try to comfort Alek?

Did she need space to take in what I said and hadn’t said? Was she uncomfortable around me now? Would she stare at me with all that fucking pity?

But she pushed herself up and instead of looking at me, she was looking past me at the wall. At nothing.

What was going on in that pretty head of hers? What had my confession stirred up for her?

“There’s a lot you didn’t tell your brother.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. When she looked at me, there wasn’t pity in her eyes; there was solidarity.

I remembered how it was back in the panic room. Our shared feeling of loss as the ones we were trying to protect had found someone new. And now there was something else she felt bonded her to me.

What in my torturous story had she connected with? “He doesn’t need to know everything. Don’t want to overwhelm the poor bastard.”

Biting her bottom lip, she reached out, running her fingers over my face, taking in my cheekbone, beard and then mouth, as though trying to learn the rest of my secrets through feel alone.

“I tried to keep you safe. To keep you out of this.”

“And I ended up saving you.” The corner of her mouth turned up. “I guess you owe me one, don’t you?”

“You want the devil to owe you a favor?”

“Seems a lot more useful than an angel owing me a favor.”

I reached up, resting my hand on her throat. Not squeezing, but remembering the soft, hot feel of her under my control. “As soon as I’m better, I’m going to ruin you. Poor kitten. You don’t deserve it. I don’t have the self-control to stop myself.”

Instead of fear, a dark heat flared in her eyes, and she pushed that delicate throat further into my grip. “Sounds like you’re going to owe me a few more favors.”

My cock could break bricks right now. I was doing mental gymnastics to determine how hard I could fuck her with the number of bruised ribs I had.

But then the door pushed open, and Becks leapt off me as though she finally got a look into what my filthy mind wanted to do with her.

The little dark-haired female who entered on soft steps let out a loud shriek. “You’re really here!”

Immediately I knew Alek had sent Daisy in to collect Becks. I was going to strangle my brother at the next opportunity. I didn’t care if the two friends deserved to see each other. This was my time with Becks and Daisy had ruined it.

Becks ran into her best friend’s arms and away from me. Alek stood in the back of the room, studying the scene in front of him with an inscrutable gaze. What was he trying to do?

"I have a million things to catch you up on," said Daisy as she took my Becks’ hand in hers, leading her out of the room and away from me.

As soon as they were gone, Alek shut the door, cutting me off even further from her. "It's time to talk."

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