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I take a moment to channel my frustration into focused effort. With a renewed sense of purpose, I work the lock, my hands moving with greater precision and control.
And then, the faintest click breaks the silence. Hope surges within me, a spark of triumph igniting in my chest. I hold my breath, my hands steady, as I apply more pressure to the tension wrench.
Click by click, the lock gives way. Each subtle movement brings us closer to freedom. Alec guides me through the final stages of the process, until, with a final twist, the lock surrenders, and the door to my cell swings open. Relief washes over me, mingling with a sense of accomplishment. I can’t believe I did it.
The tantalizing possibility of escape is right in front of us.
But now what?
Silence envelops us, broken only by the distant echoes of guards' voices and the faint sounds of our own breathing.
“Hurry, you need to unlock my cell.” Alec's eyes meet mine and burn with admiration.
I flash a triumphant smile, but this is just the beginning of our escape. We still have a long way to go.
THIRTY-ONE
Alec
The momentI’m out of my cell, I wrap my arms around Barbi and dip down until we’re face to face. She clings to me, her entire body trembling, tears running down her face, fierce determination shining in her eyes.
“I miss touching you.” She laughs, overwhelmed with emotion, but I feel the same thing.
After days of not being able to touch her, hold her, and only being able to watch Artemus’s men torture her, holding her in my arms feels like heaven. But we can’t lose sight of our objective.
The taste of freedom lingers as we embrace, but caution fills my every thought. I hold my breath, straining my ears for any sign of approaching guards. The corridor stretches out before us, dimly lit, and filled with foreboding silence. I glance at Barbi, her eyes reflecting the same mix of trepidation and hope that swirls within me.
“Stay close,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “We need to move quietly.”
Barbi nods, her hand slipping into mine, and together we inch forward, our footsteps light and purposeful. The dimly lit corridor becomes our ally, its shadows our cover. I lead with a gentle touch, guiding Barbi down darkened passages while keeping alert for the movement of guards. When we hear voices, I avoid that area and circle back around. Barely able to walk, I’m in no condition to fight, but like they say in SERE training, pain is merely a state of mind.
After a few deep breaths, I corral my pain and push it off to be dealt with later. If we have to fight, I’m prepared to give my life to save Barbi’s.
Every fiber of my being is attuned to the slightest sound, every nerve on edge. I rely on my training, my instincts honed by years of covert operations, to keep us hidden and out of harm’s way.
But I’m nervous.
As we continue down the corridor, my heart pounds, a constant reminder of the danger that lurks around every corner. We pass closed doors, and I silently pray none of them hold our captors.
With each step, my confidence grows. We’re one step closer to freedom. One step closer to escaping this nightmare. One step closer to rescuing Barbi from this living hell.
Her grip tightens on my hand, her trust in me unwavering. If she only knew how much strength I draw from her, from the love that binds us in this desperate struggle, she may not place such faith in me.
As I guide us through the maze of hallways, a sense of unease settles over me. I curse my lack of vigilance upon my arrival, my failure to gather vital information for our escape. For all I know, I could be taking us deeper into this structure, rather than toward escape.
I can almost taste the promise of freedom lingering in the air, but deep down, I’m acutely aware time is not on our side. The longer we remain within these walls, the higher the chances of an encounter with the guards. With my injuries, I’m far from being at my best. If we encounter any guards, that will bring this escape to a brutal end.
On the heels of that thought, we turn the corner and the blood in my veins freezes. Before us stands a chilling sight. Artemus Gonzales, the orchestrator of our suffering, stands tall and menacing, flanked by a cadre of his ruthless henchmen. His eyes, cold and unyielding, lock onto mine, a twisted smile curling his lips. The sight sends shivers down my spine.
“Ah…” His voice drips with malice. “You thought you could escape? How foolish.”
I tense, ready to fight, but a swarm of Artemus’s guards engulf me, their numbers overwhelming me within seconds. They strike with calculated precision, delivering powerful blows that knock me to the ground. Fists rain down upon me, the impact reverberating through my body with bone-crushing force. The taste of blood fills my mouth, mingling with the acrid scent of sweat and fear.
Two of the guards pin my arms, restraining my attempt to fight back. They hold me gleefully, letting their fellows get in a flurry of kicks and punches to my gut, my kidneys, and my head.
Artemus’s gaze shifts to Barbi and my heart lurches. The guards drag her away from me. Her terrified cries echo through the air, ripping out my heart. Time stretches, distorted by the intensity of the moment. Every second feels like an eternity as Artemus revels in his sadistic game, his guards following his every command.
The guards hoist me to my feet, their hands gripping my arms. I stumble forward, my vision blurred with pain and rage. They drag me through the labyrinthine corridors, each step a reminder of my powerlessness.
