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Chapter One
Ana
Four-hundred and thirty-seven inmates were imprisoned in The Tomb when Ax and I set the wheels in motion to free them. We don’t have accurate figures on how many died in the fights and the majority of survivors ran off on their own to their freedom and the world that awaits. Twenty-three of us remain.
We got about fifteen kilometers away from The Tomb before the various injuries of the group required us to stop, mine included. Luckily, we did a quick raid of the guard’s supplies before leaving, and have bandages, salves, and medicine. Unluckily, Doc was one of those who died in the riots, and now it’s up to our collective knowledge to tend to each other.
“Stop moving and sit the fuck down,” Ax hisses at me as I wander through our makeshift camp. He’s taken quick command, directing everyone where to go and what to do. We haven’t really discussed a chain of command, but I’m happy to let him take the lead right now.
“I’m fine,” I reply with an eye roll that hurts my bruised socket, just as my ribs give me an unhelpful twinge, reminding me I probably should be resting. “Okay, maybe I will sit down actually…”
Ax raises a brow at me but doesn’t comment on my stubbornness, instead kissing my head and turning back to Luis and the guys who are cooking something.
“Don’t put those logs on yet, you’re going to put the fucking fire out!” Ax shouts across the clearing before giving me one last warning look.
“Take it easy. Don’t want to have to be spanking that cute ass later.” He takes a step then pauses. “On second thought…”
I let out a laugh and push him away with a grin that stings my split lip.
“Go take care of shit, I’ll be good.”
Ax’s eyes twinkle as they watch me, and I see the corner of his mouth twitch. A tingle of excitement hits me when I realize we’ve really done it, we’reoutside.
Free.
Once I get these ribs taken care of, I am going to look forward to exploring my man’s body without thinking about someone listening in the cell over, or without worrying we’re going to fall off the damn pallet.
I wasn’t in The Tomb nearly as long as most of these men, but there is no time when the concept of freedom isn’t welcome. The worry remains that one of those with us is one of the spies Dick told me about, but we are fairly sure most of those took off or were killed in the riots. And I will admit, hearing about John’s fate was very satisfying.
My eyes wander the clearing before I notice Ethan standing at a tree set away from the group looking flustered. Only hobbling slightly, I make my way over to him.
“Where’s—” Before I can finish my question, Ethan huffs out a breath and jerks his head behind him.
“Over there by the stream,” he answers, “Damn woman won’t let me see how bad it is, but damned if I’m going to leave her alone out here.”
I nod but don’t say anything. After what she went through, I’m not shocked Sammi doesn’t want any man to be around her, even her savior.
“I’ll go check on her,” I tell him, stalking off into the bushes until I find the stream. Rather than cleaning herself up, Sammi is sitting at the bank with just her feet in the water. Her clothes still look filthy and even in the darkness, I can tell there is still dried blood on her.
Although peace sounds lovely for myself, I go and sit beside her saying nothing. I feel her turn to look at me, the smallest sigh passing her lips, but she stays silent for several minutes.
“Are you okay?” I finally ask. “I mean, obviously you're not but, like, physically are you…”
“I’ve had worse,” Sammi states blandly, not taking her eyes off the depths in front of us. I frown at this statement, remembering how bad she looked when we got there.
“Can I get you anything?” I ask as I stand, satisfied she’s not about to die or anything. Mental breakdown? Possible.
She shakes her head. “I—”
Her voice cracks and she drops her head, but not before I see the tears falling. Sighing, I sit back down beside her and reach out, grabbing her hand in mine. I’m far from the best at consoling people, but since a male presence clearly isn’t welcome right now it’s all on me. So, I sit there and hold her hand and let Sammi cry.
I consider how I would be reacting in the same circumstance. Not only raped brutally but also, from what it looked like, cut and tortured by a sadistic pig with a pretty face. Thinking back to that night so long ago when Josh died, I don’t remember much of the blur following, but I do remember the days and weeks after. I felt empty, used and alone.
I didn’t have anyone to hold my hand and comfort me, and in fact almost died of exposure within days. It was sheer stubbornness that ended up keeping me going until I found a safe place to recover.
Whether she is used to selling her body or not, I doubt Sammi feels much different.
Eventually her tears begin to quiet, and she sniffles a few times before taking back her hand to wipe her face.
