Page 14 of Rami

The last time she woke up.

A pang of longing hit her. Her suffering was close to being over. This should have made her happy. She couldn’t explain the part of her that wanted to keep fighting. That wanted to live. Despite knowing there’d be more abuse. More pain. More anguish.

Probably far worse to come if she survived.

Wayne’s heavy footsteps shook the trailer. A light clicked on in the living room, and she squinted against the glow the covered her body. Ivy kept her face glued to the wall, not daring to look at him.

Please, God. Let them think I’m still asleep.

“Christ, Mart. I’ve only got a little left. Probably not enough to knock her out.”

“Just hurry up,” she called.

Wayne sighed and a lighter flickered. Terror cinched Ivy’s throat to the width of a straw. Footsteps shuffled closer and then the warmth of Wayne’s body permeated her side as he sat next to her, snagging her wrist. He hesitated, and her lungs ached as she wiggled her fingers between the linoleum and baseboard.

“Did you fucking feed her today, like I told ya?”

“Yeah, she had chips and water earlier,” Marty called.

Liar.

He huffed and squeezed her elbow several times, looking for a vein. He wouldn’t find one. She was too sick. Nearly dead. Probably wouldn’t even bleed if he sliced her with a knife.

Angst pierced her lungs. Her fingers wrapped around the nail.

Yes!

Pain ebbed through her elbow—he’d found a vein. She gasped, and the nail fell from her grasp. She wheeled her free hand at his face.

Smack!

The needle jumped out of her arm, but it was too late. The solution crawled up her forearm, wrapping its cold, gnarly fingers around her biceps and sinking its venomous teeth into her heart.

“Fucking bitch.” Wayne’s knuckles clapped against her cheekbone, but the sting turned into a warm pulse, her body too numb to absorb pain.

The world flickered and a cloud swept in, carrying her away.

CHAPTER 5

Nocturnal creatures hissed and rattled in the desert night. Rami rolled down the passenger window and shot a look at Taschen, who was outside holding a tablet, trying to order the drone to life. The air was thick, but with the sun down, the temperature had dropped a bit. Come morning it’d be blazing hot. “You got that thing running yet?”

Eighteen hours in the car had Rami’s eyes burning. Between the three of them, they’d completed the drive two hours quicker than anticipated. Each of them had driven a six-hour shift, allowing the others to eat and rest.

The van was the newest vehicle in their fleet. Fully decked out with a bulletproof body and windows, it seated five people and had space in the back for equipment—or in the case of this mission, a mini medical area.

Most of the time, they relied on one of the SUVs to transport their clients, but the business was growing, and they now needed a larger range of vehicles.

As if on cue, the drone hummed to life and took flight from the ground. “Yup. She’s good to go.” The little device whizzed ten feet from the dirt with alien-like precision.

“Good.” The tension radiating along Rami’s shoulders loosened a touch as he got out of the van. They’d parked in the middle of nowhere, a good ten miles from the cartel compound—hopefully far enough to gauge their target without being spotted.

He strode up to Taschen and glanced at the screen over his friend’s arm. “We need to look for heat sources. Ground mines, dogs, guards, shit like that.”

Taschen grunted and met Rami’s stare. His gray eyes often startled people, they were so light and piercing. If it weren’t for the jagged scar that ran from temple to cheekbone, Taschen would’ve looked clean-cut enough to be an A-list actor.

The guy was an inch taller than Rami, maybe six foot three, and his glare was hooded beneath dark eyebrows. “And if she’s being kept inside the compound? Then what?”

Rami rubbed the back of his neck. “Then we’re fucked.”

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