Page 21 of The Wrecked One

“Do it. Or I’m going to set her on that desk and let my men have a turn with her after I’m done, understood?”

Oh, God. The sick reality of that playing out ran through my head, and Oliver’s head snapped up at the disturbing words. His bloodshot eyes zeroed in on the man, stealing me from my dark thoughts and back to the equally dark room.

I knew how Oliver’s mind worked. He was calculating his choices, wondering if he could take on the three men without risking my life.

But when he cast a look my way, taking in the firearms on each side of me, his shoulders broke forward. He wouldn’t take the chance if I could die, and I didn’t blame him.

The coward, whose belt was still on the floor, snapped out, “Do it now. Then we’ll patch you up so you don’t bleed to death before we can get our answers.”

“There’s a special place in hell for you.” I was shaking uncontrollably now. Teeth chattering as if I had the chills from the flu.

Letting go of Anurak, the masked man aligned himself with one of the other two pricks, standing clear of Oliver. He made a come-hither motion to Oliver, directing him to get it done.

Anurak lifted his hands in prayer, and whatever he was saying to Oliver, I had to assume he was begging for his life.

Where are you, Falcon? I’d managed to reach out to them over a web call before I was taken, but only had enough time to rush out, “Our covers are blown. The Collective must’ve found us. Oliver just sacrificed himself so I could get away and?—”

At the sight of four officers closing in on me, I’d tossed the phone into the river so they couldn’t trace the call. Then they shoved me into the back of their cruiser before driving to an alley and passing me over to two masked men, who then shoved me into the back of a black van. From there, I’d been blindfolded and shuffled around, finding my way onto a mattress on the floor. I’d been kept there until now. Not a freaking word from anyone before the door had opened.

“Do it,” the man urged Oliver again, breaking through my train-wrecked thoughts and drawing me back to the room.

A slow stream of tears glided down Oliver’s cheeks as he pulled his arm back, then ripped the Band-Aid off. In one fast movement, he delivered an apology along with the fatal blow.

With Oliver’s medical training, he’d know where and how to stab Anurak to ensure it’d be a quick end, and as painless as possible.

When Anurak’s body hit the concrete floor, I forced my attention away from him and over to Oliver. Worried about him, I attempted to step forward and get to him, but I was blocked by an arm banding across my chest.

Oliver chose that moment to look up at me, his eyes locking on the asshole’s hand that’d slipped over my breast, clearly just to try and screw with him.

Breathing hard, Oliver looked unhinged, to say the least, and I wasn’t sure what he was about to do. Everything that happened next was nearly a blur.

It was as if someone had hit pause on a movie. Time stood still. But only long enough for me to register the sounds coming from somewhere outside the room.

Gunfire. Falcon?

And then all hell broke loose.

Someone’s radio began squawking, “We’re under attack. We need help.”

“Go,” the masked man who’d created his own sick version of Squid Games ordered.

The guy restraining me removed his hand from my breast and left the room, and I barely had time to register how fast everything happened after that.

But Oliver didn’t wait to react. He rushed the other masked man at my side, jumping over the dead body, and slipped the knife right below his mask, cutting his throat. Shocked, his Glock fell to the floor at my feet as he clutched his throat.

I stared at him, stunned myself, as he slowly crumpled to his death on the floor. It took me a minute to realize Oliver had wasted no time addressing the remaining threat—the man who’d nearly raped me.

They were fighting. Hand-to-hand combat. No knife. No gun. Oliver not holding back despite the blood soaking his pants.

Keeping my back glued to the wall, I slowly crouched in an attempt to get the fallen weapon. My hand went still as Oliver wrestled him to the floor, dropping all of his weight on the man’s chest, pinning the jerk’s hands and arms beneath the weight of his own body. He couldn’t resist or fight back, and while he kicked the air and squirmed, Oliver managed to remain unaffected by the jerky movements.

Oliver grabbed the discarded belt, lifted the guy’s head, then looped it around his neck. Buckling it, he gave it a firm tug, then dropped his face close to the bastard’s and hissed, “You’ll never touch her again.” Then he further tightened the belt while peeling back the man’s mask with his other hand, revealing his face.

Blond hair to go with those evil green eyes of his.

Oliver tipped his head, intensely focused on the man who continued to squirm beneath his hard frame.

Finally remembering to pick up the gun, I pointed it toward the asshole in case he managed to overpower Oliver.

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