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I had enough light to see Drake’s face.
He was a bloody mess, unrecognizable from the man I’d known for most of my life. His dark hair drooped in front of his eyes, ringed with dark circles. Drake wore a suit stained with dirt and blood, the fabric ripped.
“Stop,” Drake screamed.
Three men beat the shit out of Tate Maxwell, throwing their weight into his body. He spat blood at them when they took a break. But it only lasted a second before they returned to smashing in his face with their fists. From the looks of it, they had taken turns torturing my friends.
“I’ll give you what you want,” Drake shouted. “Leave him alone. He doesn’t know anything.”
All Knights learned how to endure the pain of torture during initiation. Drake knew better than to spill his secrets.
What is he doing?
After one more hit to the jaw, Tate’s head lowered to the floor. Our captors spoke in French, which wasn’t much of a surprise. The leader of The Lucaya Group was a Frenchman.
When they didn’t answer Drake, he spoke to them in French. I wasn’t sure what he said because I wasn’t like my brothers. I didn’t learn several languages while attending some fancy college.
“Give me the location of the server,” the man with a mask over his face growled, hovering above Drake. “No more games.”
“Don’t do it, Drake.” Tate’s mouth twisted in disgust. “Fuck them.”
I wanted to tell my friends it would all be okay. That Alpha Command would be here any minute. However, boulders stacked up the ceiling in front of the only exit, making it impossible to leave.
Without my respirator, it was harder to breathe. I sucked in a few deep breaths and blew them out.
Think, Marcello. Think.
Eventually, they would tire of torturing us, giving me the perfect window of opportunity. All I needed was one hand free to untie myself. Then I could undo the ropes on my ankles and get my friends out of here.
“Fuck you.” Tate spat a chunk of blood at the man in front of him. “Do your worst. I’m not telling you shit.”
Tate’s mucous landed on the man’s cheek and slid down to his shirt. His muscular body shook from the anger surging through him like a volcano. He wiped his cheek with the back of his hand and then took the butt of the gun and smacked Tate hard on the side of his head.
Tate had been Drake’s best friend since high school. The retired Marine came to work for Drake as his head of security last year. He was built for this lifestyle and could handle himself.
But I was more concerned about how Drake would deal if anything happened to him. Tate would never let terrorists win. He was a man of honor who believed in Drake and his work at Battle Industries.
Several men in dark, long-sleeved shirts and pants surrounded us. They carried enough firepower to blow up the cave and have it collapse on our heads.
“I’ll tell you,” Drake said after Tate’s eyes swelled shut.
Drake was slowly cracking.
As Tate slumped to the side, Drake let out a gasp. His eyes moved between Tate and me. And when he noticed I was awake, a look of relief washed over his face. Although, I was useless to him until I could free my hands.
“Let him go,” Drake demanded. “If you kill him, I’m not telling you shit.”
The leader of the group waved off his men and moved toward Drake. He held a gun, gritting his teeth. “Give me the program, or I will kill your friend.”
Drake glanced at Tate and sighed.
“How do you expect me to do that? I’m stuck in this cave with no access to the Internet.”
Tate groaned, using whatever strength he had to lift his head. “Drake, listen to me.” His voice sounded like gravel. “Don’t let them win. I’ll die before I tell them anything.” A beat passed before he said, “Promise me.”
Drake stared at his friend’s bloodied face and shook his head. “No, Tate. I’m not making that promise. You’re leaving this cave with me.”
“Promise me, Battle,” Tate choked out. “No matter what happens.”
