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“He’s here.” He looked to his men and waved them off. “Go! Bring him to me!”
ANNA
Her vision blurred and she saw two of Diaz as the stocking was ripped off her head. She coughed, trying to expel the water in her lungs.
She heard the words, but they sounded far away.
“Bring him to me!”
Her head slumped forward as it was released, jolting violently as it fully extended toward her chest. But she barely noticed. All she could think about was getting the water out of her lungs, air in, and calming her burning throat.
She assumed formaldehyde had been in the syringe, but the water used to torture her hadn’t helped her burning throat.
She gulped in a breath as she swayed, seeing black dots.
A rough hand gripped her hair. He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “You don’t get to die that easy.” Diaz’s breath was hot on her neck and a wave of nausea rolled through her. She projectile vomited all over his shoes—at least she thought they were his. He cursed, dropping her head and walking away.
She continued to stare at the ground, because that seemed easier than lifting her head. After a few moments, she realized she could see her feet clearly.
At the sound of a roaring boom, she lifted her head. The others had sounded so far away, like a raging thunderstorm. Maybe she’d lost her sense of reality with the pain, or maybe they had been outside. But this one was different. Closer. Metal shook and men started shouting and running.
Anna suddenly felt alive. He’d come for her—he’d kept his promise.
She’d thought he might come here, take one look, and decide to let her pay the consequences of her choices; or worse, get captured himself and they’d both die.
But judging by the fire burning on the upper level, Jackson intended to save both her and himself.
Another wave of nausea rolled through her and she let it all come up. She needed to fight. If Jackson was risking his life to save hers, she would fight too.
She vomited on the floor, breathing heavily, feeling beads of sweat on her brow. She wanted to curl up and lie on the floor.
But she would fight.
For herself.
For Jackson.
For Olivia.
For their father.
Another roar echoed inside the plant and her head snapped up, seeing a second blaze on the other side of the building. A man fell over the railing, landing on the equipment below. His body went limp.
Anna looked up at the railing.
She knew it was him.
Her eyes followed Jackson as he sprinted in her direction, firing shots as he ran—but there were more men shooting from the ground level up at him.
How was he going to get down to her?
She knew the second a bullet hit him. She knew by the way his body jerked, the way he fell to the floor. He disappeared from view and she squeezed her eyes shut.
She’d done this to him.
She could’ve not sent the message. It would’ve meant an ugly death, but with every decision she’d made over the past three years she’d risked ending up here.
But Diaz would’ve sent a message from her phone anyway, so she’d rationalized it was better if she sent it herself.
