Page 22 of How Much For A Broken Heart?

“You’ll live,” I rasped, my voice a whisper, strained with agony, each word punctuated by a sharp stab of fire. “You have to… get… Annie… to her new family. Promise me.”

Ryder leaned in closer, ensuring he caught every word I said, but his reaction was immediate and intense, his voice laced with a blend of anger and determination. “Listen to me,” he snapped back, his eyes burning with resolve. “You’re not giving up, Navy. You’re getting out of here.”

I could see the fierce commitment in his expression, refusing to accept the resignation in my voice. Despite my overwhelming pain and fading strength, Ryder’s words ignited a flicker of fight within me. Then, he shook me a little, harder, and the blackness around me eased for a moment.

“Make sure… Annie… I’m dying…”

“Fuck. You’re not dying!” He leaned closer, his grip on my arm firm. “You hear me? You’re a fighter, Navy. You’ve made it this far, and you’re not done yet.”

His words cut through the fog of pain and despair, reaching the soldier still alive within me. Ryder was so wrong. I couldn’t surrender to death, but it would come for me soon.

“Promise me!” I cursed my failing voice and closed my eyes, my head spinning.

“I’m promising nothing, you hear me. We’re going home.”

He didn’t see; he couldn’t understand. I’d killed because I could. I’d sold my soul to the devil for revenge. “Not going… home,” I managed to force out.

“Stay awake, feel the pain, tell me where it hurts, Navy.”

I could barely manage a response, pain clouding my thoughts, but I tried to offer him something, anything to go on. “Gut. It’s… bad,” I gasped out, the effort to speak sending a fresh wave of agony through me.

“Keep talking. I’m gonna check the room. I wanna hear you talking. You got me, Navy?”

“I… I can’t… ”

He shifted away from me, propped my head against something, his jacket? I could hear Ryder, clumsy, loud, his hands patting along the walls, searching for any sign of a hidden exit or a weakness we could exploit. I listened to him talk.

“Nothing. Why build a panic room without a light, and no food, or water, or a way to contact the outside world. You with me, Navy? Come on… talk to me. Tell me.”

I tried to talk, blood in my mouth tasting like iron—was I bleeding there? Was it a scent more than a taste? Why was there a room with nothing in it?

“Not… panic…” I managed.

He went to a crouch next to me. “Yeah, I get the same feeling. Not a panic room, a lockup, a safety for that Amos fucker.” He pressed on the packing and hissed, and my eyesight blurred. “Bleeding has slowed; shit’s doing its stuff.”

“Too… late… ” I forced.

He sat back down to cradle my head. “Talk to me.” He shook me hard, and I cursed him. “Come on! Why the SEALs, Navy? You one of these kids who liked paddling pools?”

I wanted to tell him to stop. I didn’t want to talk or listen to his shit. I wanted to die.

Why wouldn’t he let me die? I could just close my eyes and?—

“Water, am I right? Okay then,” he continued, as if we were having a reasonable discussion over coffee and donuts. “So here we are, Navy and Army, in a box, a messed-up situation, and yet again, Army is on top.”

I clenched my fist, wanted to thump him, weak as a newborn, I had to lie there.

“That fucker knew what he was doing when he pulled the trigger,” he rambled. “Don’t you think? Gut shots are slow killers, gives you time to contemplate dying. What a fucking asshole.” He shook me. “Come on, Navy, answer me. He knew, right?”

“Mmph.”

“He could have gone for a clean shot, right between the eyes, an instant end. But he knew the pain it would cause, and he relished in it. I saw his face, he celebrated shooting you, loved it, reveled in your pain and you dying. So, you gonna lie here and let him win?”

“No… fuck, no,” I managed to gasp out, each word punctuated by a jolt of pain. The darkness in my vision was oppressive, making every breath a struggle.

Ryder’s voice was a low rumble in the dark. “Then pull yourself the fuck together, Navy, because you need to finish this. We need to finish this. Fucker locked me in a room, and I’ll get out, and then, gut him like a fish. You with me, Navy?”

Yes, I wanted that. I wanted to know why he’d kept Annie, why he’d taken James from me, how had I not seen through him, why hadn’t I seen the small man was pulling the strings? Was I that committed to getting Annie out that I hadn’t seen Amos as a danger?

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