Something’s wrong. Frantically I attempt to clear my haze, searching the bunker, only to find her pinned beneath one of our captors next to the ladder. Crippling fear consumes me. Scottie’s filthy pants lie in a heap on the ground, the bare skin of her legs is on full display. I can’t let my eyes wander further without feeling like I, too, am violating her. There’s no question as to his intent as he lifts the hem of his long black shirt, and the buckle of his belt begins to rattle. His panting breaths echo throughout the confined space, suffocating me. “Get off of her! Get the fuck off!” I’m shouting into the void. That son of a bitch doesn’t even acknowledge that he hears me, too focused on his task.
“Briggs! Don’t—look away!” she orders just before his palm connects with her cheek, further fueling my anger.
“Scottie!” Pulling at the chains, I fight to get to her. “Goddamn it! Get the fuck off!” My bare feet dig into the sand as I twist and turn, trying to break free. Warm blood trickles down my arms, the cuffs cutting into my skin.
Please, God. No.
My heart beats impossibly fast.
Out of nowhere, another bearded cocksucker appears, kicking me with his booted foot right in the jaw. “Maybe you answer questions next time we ask?”
“Fuck you!” she screams, her voice filled with terror, as he grips both arms above her head, climbing on top of her, his pants unfastened just enough to reveal his erection jutting toward her.
“Motherfucker, you better kill me,” I shout to the man beside me, who smiles down at me with a sick satisfaction. They’ve found my weakness. They made sure it happened. Hiyam saw it the first fucking day. They kept us alive for this very purpose: so we’d become attached, a power play on our emotions. Where Katy succeeded in outsmarting them, just days ago; I’m failing.
I’m hot everywhere, burning up with pure rage, my veins ready to burst beneath my overheated skin.
Scottie cries out in anguish, and I break, fighting harder than I’ve ever fought before. I feel the pop in my shoulder as I jerk forward with everything I have and scream in agony at both the pain and the realization that I can’t save her.
She’s thrashing from side to side. The more she fights, the angrier he becomes. He’s so rough with her…
“Scottie,” I mewl, unable to look away from the brutal attack. Our connection is the only thing I have to offer.
“Scottie, look at me.” I’m kicked again, this time in the ribs. But I don’t feel it. I feel nothing but pent-up rage and frustration and helplessness. I can’t help her. I can’t save her.
My hands ball into fists at my sides, and hot tears stream down my cheeks as I watch her lose every ounce of fight in her. She goes limp beneath the savage as he violates her, sating his lust while destroying her innocence. With his every grunt, the bile climbs higher in my throat.
“Scottie, look at me.” Her head lolls to the side, her beautiful tortured eyes, red-rimmed and dripping silent tears, find mine across the bunker. She mouths my name. Briggs.
I nod, swallowing hard. I’m here. I’m right here, I mouth back.
Locked in our gaze, everything else disappears. I see the pain and fear leave her eyes. They’re replaced with trust, with a connection so powerful it steals my breath.
We’re no longer in this bunker. There’s no pain. No torture. We’ve drifted off to a place that’s ours alone.
She hasn’t spoken in hours. Not to Hiyam, when she came in to wash the blood from her legs and help her back into her clothes. Not to me. She’s checked out into a place I can’t reach, and it’s understandable.
She rocks across from me, her eyes cast down as I attempt to reach her in vain. I just wish she’d look at me, talk to me. Scream. Cry. Something other than that blank stare.
“Katy,” I try again, and finally her eyes snap to mine.
I swallow down a lump of emotion. “I’m here.”
Her eyes dart away.
Chapter Twenty
Briggs
“Briggs!” Scottie screams when a loud explosion jerks us both from a dead sleep. “Briggs, did you hear that?” The sound of bombs going off is nothing new, but they’ve never been this close. Birds fly overhead as frantic Arabic is spoken above us. We’re either about to be executed without much of a ceremony or going to be killed by fucking friendly fire.
“It’s friendly.” She speaks my thoughts aloud. AKs and M16s sound above as we stare at each other with a longing neither of us can deny. We don’t even flinch as more debris falls between us. We’re safe. As long as we’re connected, we’re safe.
“I’m so fucking sorry.”
She shakes her head. “Don’t. We’re leaving, Briggs. Tell me your plans.”
“I don’t have any.”
“Tell me,” she begs. “Please.”
“I’m going to teach you how to ride a horse.”
Tears surface as the ground quakes above us. “I’m counting on it.”
“Chris!” she cries out, as the gunfire draws closer. My heart expands in my chest as she covers me in her fire; her warmth, her protection, her love. It both stifles and frees me.
The unmistakable sound above has us both screaming out to the other.
The roof caves in, entombing us beneath a pile of rubble. A thick cloud of dust blinds my vision. My eyes burn. My lungs burn. I tug at my chains, hoping they’ve blown free in the explosion, but I’m still tethered to the wall, unable to reach her. As I close my eyes, one thought runs through my head, felt with the deepest conviction.
I’m going to love you, Katy Scott.
Covered in debris, I rouse when muffled voices and gunshots ring in my ears. Then the dust starts to settle, and my eyes flutter open to the most beautiful sight. Soldiers. American soldiers. This can’t be real. I’m so disoriented—afraid to believe it. Because it’s very possible that this is all just a figment of my imagination. “Am I dreaming?”
“Christopher Briggs?” The soldier working on my chains asks.
I give a sharp nod.
“You’re not dreaming. You’re going home, Sergeant.”
“Scottie?” I rasp out. I can’t see her. The prison that’s been our home since the day we were captured has been reduced to piles of rock and ash.
“We’ve got her,” I hear from the other side of the dilapidated bunker.
“Scottie, we’re going home,” I announce, my heart swelling, just before it takes a nose dive.
“We’re losing her—we need a medic!” a member of our rescue team shouts. Panic, the likes of which I’ve never endured, makes it hard to breathe. I can’t lose her now. Not after all we’ve been through. All that she’s been through.
“Scottie!” I call out, trying to break free from the men who are doing their best to help me. I’m so tired of feeling fucking helpless. I need to get to her. “Scottie!”
A sharp voice breaks through my tirade. “Sergeant Briggs, listen to me. We’re going to get you both out of here and to a hospital as soon as possible.” My body is finally pulled free from the shackles. “This isn’t helping. She’s in good hands. You have to trust us to help you.”
I nod, gritting my teeth. He’s right. We need to get her out of here.
Straining my neck, I search for her as we’re both finally loaded into a waiting bird. Her hand falls limply from the stretcher, and I grab it, and for the first time, I feel the warmth in her touch. She squeezes mine faintly before letting go.
Our helicopter lands at Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Germany during the late hours of the morning. I can’t make out most of the words being said over the buzzing of the chopper blades, but when they open the doors, they immediately rush off with Scottie for emergency surgery. She’s in hemorrhagic shock from blood loss due to being hit with burning rubble and has been unconscious for most of the ride. Just watching them haul off with her shreds me.
“You ready, man?” the medic asks as he moves me onto a gurney. He looks at me with wide eyes and a somber face, like he’s starstruck and pitying me all at once.
“Yah,” I rasp. “Do me a favor, man—get me a fucking mainline on the morphine.”