Page 17 of The Wrecked One

“I swear to God, if you’ve set a hand on her, I will detach yours from your wrists,” I gritted out. “And that’ll only be the beginning of what I do to you.”

When Mya tried to stand, the masked Brit removed the scarf from her eyes and aimed his weapon at me. He wanted her to see what was going to happen next.

I wanted to promise her everything would be okay. Somehow I’d make sure. But I was chained to a bed and bleeding, not to mention unarmed.

Mya slowly looked at me, going dead still at the realization a Glock was pointed my way. Her feet were bare, and she sat back on her heels. Tears streamed down her face, flowing over her taped mouth.

Desperate to go to her, hold and protect her, I struggled in vain again, trying to get free.

Anurak began chanting the same line over and over in Thai. Probably a prayer, but it was further screwing with my already fucked state of mind.

“Let. Her. Go,” I growled out, wishing the command and tone of my voice would be enough to intimidate the bastard into giving up, but I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly.

“We decided it’d be best to wait until you were both awake to help incentivize you to open your mouths when we question you.” The Brit came closer to the bed, his weapon now fixed on Mya. “First, though, I’m going to wear you down a bit. Ensure you’re motivated to tell me the truth.”

Mya began shaking her head, a stifled, “No,” piercing through the heavy air between us.

“You have a decision to make,” he went on, ignoring Mya. “Who’s getting tortured? Mya or this man?” If I hadn’t already been hanging on to the edge, those words would’ve sent me right over it. But it was the sight of Mya closing her eyes, tears slipping down her cheeks that did me in.

“Don’t do this,” I seethed, fighting with the cuffs even as my wrists bled from the metal bracelets cutting into my flesh. “If it’s money you want, we can pay more than whatever they’re giving you.”

“Not everything is about money.” When he focused on me, Mya attempted to stand, as if she were going to try and fight him all on her own. She was too determined and stubborn not to. All it took was one hard shove against her chest for him to knock her back down.

She collapsed onto her knees with a mumbled, “Fuck you.” Brave and headstrong. But when the back of his gloved hand struck her across the face, I snapped.

I nearly broke my wrist trying to get my hand free from the restraints.

He positioned the Glock at Mya’s temple, and my heart stopped, along with every ounce of effort I was putting into trying to free myself.

“Her or him. Choose now, or I’ll choose for you, and it won’t be him.”

“I’ll tell you what you want to know. You don’t need to do this.” I wasn’t sure how in the hell I’d give up the names of my other teammates, but . . .

“Oh, I know you will. After you choose.”

“Me,” I said, shutting my eyes. “Torture me.”

“I admire that choice, but it’s not one of your options. Now, hurry up or buttercup dies anyway.”

My eyes flashed open. He knew my nickname for Mya, but didn’t know my last name. Something didn’t add up.

Then it came to me.

The man who’d bumped into Mya by the drink cart. He’d planted a listening device on us somehow. The details he knew about us came from our conversation yesterday.

Mya peered at me, and I could tell by the look in her eyes she’d put two and two together as well.

And then I gave him the only possible answer left to give, and on a broken sigh said, “Not Mya. Don’t torture her.”

“Be more specific. Who do you choose to be tortured?” Of course he was going to force me to spit out the words. Say a name.

Rolling my lips inward around my teeth, I released a slow breath from my nose before I gave him what he wanted. “Anurak. Torture him.”

He slowly lowered his weapon. “Good. Now, it’s her turn to make a decision. Based on that, we’ll see how this all plays out.”

Plays out? What the fuck? “That wasn’t the deal.”

Mya tried to get up again but lost her balance and fell onto her heels.

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