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Chapter 1
Jude Williams
Pain rippled along my limbs, and screams echoed off the walls of the cave. They wouldn’t break me. No matter how hard they tried and how much they took it out on my body. I would resist.
Another scream echoed that caused me almost as much pain as my own injuries. Isaac. I needed to get him out. He shouldn’t be a captive while I was free.
Wait…
The scream called me one more time, and I lunged at the culprit, stumbling, coming to full alertness as I struck air. My body was covered with sweat, sheets twisted around me from the way I’d tried to take down the invisible enemy.
Of course it was a fucking dream. It was always a fucking dream. Not exactly uncommon, but definitely getting old.
I sank back down onto the bed, staring at the ceiling and letting my breath settle back to normal. If you could call waking up fighting your own worst enemies normal. Whatever this was, it was exhausting. Even with therapy, even trying to work through my own guilt along with the scars on both my mind and body, the dreams had never stopped.
Allowing my hands to curl into fists, I hauled in a deep breath. And again. It took everything in me to resist lashing out in frustration. I was tired of reliving those moments. Tired of feeling so out of control that I needed to compensate for it. Fucking tired of letting it hold me back, when none of it was my choice to begin with.
I stayed still as long as I could before the panic set in. The creeping instinct that told me I needed to make sure everything was the way I left it and everything was still under control.
One room at a time. I moved with methodical ease through the house, flicking the light on in each room and assessing. I knew all the details so well at this point; it only took seconds for my brain to acknowledge everything was fine. But without this, the shadows lurking in the corners of the rooms screamed at my instincts until I checked. It was easier to get it out of the way.
The whole house was quiet. No strange sounds and no echoing screams. Just the silence of the isolated countryside and the sound of my own breathing.
Soft whirring of fans and the occasional electronic grunt and beep came from the computers in my security office as I sat down. Some people might think the network of cameras I had set up all across my property—and the six-monitor setup I had in a secure room—was overkill for an ex-SEAL who lived in the middle of nowhere. And they would probably be right.
But as each image flickered up onto the screen, showing emptiness, blowing grass and tree branches, and the occasional animal, my instincts settled. From here, if I saw something was wrong—or if I saw anything or anyone who wasn’t supposed to be there—I could fix it. I had total control, and it was all I had.
I didn’t like that I needed it, but it didn’t change anything. Especially after a nightmare, I needed to control my environment. Everything, from which lights were on to what and who was touching me. It was the only thing keeping me from slipping too far backward and letting the memories crash into me and dictate my behavior.
Right now, it was even harder.
I glanced at the date. The anniversary of Isaac’s death was getting close. Five years of guilt and wondering if there was something I could have done to keep him alive and, looking back, examining every facet of my rescue to see if we could have gotten him out too.
Those thoughts never helped, but I couldn’t stop them either.
It was still early, but there was no chance I would go back to sleep now. Shadows would jump out of the corners at me, causing me to tense and verify everything before I could relax. At this point, it was better if I just stayed awake and rode out the rest of the day.
Hopefully I would make up the sleep later tonight. But a part of me knew it wasn’t likely, no matter how much I wanted it.
* * *
Grant slung his bag into the back of the pickup and grinned unconsciously. It wasn’t long ago he wouldn’t have been able to lift something without pain. Only a few months ago, the piece of shrapnel that had been compressing his spine for years had been removed, and we were all having fun watching him relearn life without pain. Seeing him enjoy it never got old. “Still feeling okay?” I asked.
“Never better.” He tapped a hand on the side of the truck. “I’m glad I can actually do things like this now and not be stuck watching all you guys have all the fun.”
Liam snorted as he tossed his own bag into the back. “Fourteen hours in a truck is fun to him now. Shrapnel will really change some things, won’t it?”
Grant just shook his head, smirking. Liam wasn’t wrong—I was glad it wasn’t me who had been tapped to drive down on the trip to Colorado, but I was equally glad Grant could feel like a part of the group again. He’d struggled with it long enough.
“Just don’t let Daniel control the radio,” I said. “That will make it seem like a far longer trip.” Though I had a feeling Liam’s teasing temperament might be the thing to drive both Grant and Daniel crazy.
“I have excellent taste in music, thank you very much.” Daniel lifted his overnight bag into the bed of the truck and tossed the keys to Liam. “And you’ll be asking for my music when it keeps you awake.”
Liam made a face at me behind his back, but he headed for the cab of the truck as Daniel looked me up and down. “You okay? You didn’t have to get up early for this.”
“I was already up.” He looked at me, and I knew better than to lie. But I wasn’t about to open up and lay all my troubles on Daniel’s shoulders before a long trip. I shrugged. “I’ve been better.”
“Want to talk about it?”
