Page 59 of Scorpion

A fist collides with my cheek and knocks me back onto the floor. Air tears from my lungs at the same time they kick my stomach. I buckle over and gasp for oxygen while the world around me spins. The high-pitched sound is earsplitting. I can’t even hear the sound of my own cry.

It gets worse every time I try to get up. I manage to hold down the bile lurching up my throat, but still, I struggle to reorient myself.

“Mathijs,” I croak.

All I can see is a flurry of white and black dots. My head swims as the ringing slowly abates. Every inch of my body screams at me to lie back down and close my eyes.

“Mathijs,” I repeat.

Nothing.

I wince as I rub my eyes to get rid of the haze over my vision. I keep blinking until the orbs disappear and the room clears.

It’s empty.

No.

“Mathijs,” I say louder this time, scrambling up to my feet.

I stumble out into the hallway, then look left and right.

They took him.

Chapter 16

ZALAK

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I trip over my feet as I clamor back into the room to grab my phone from my purse. My head swims and the letters on my screen come up as double. I manage to dial Josh’s number, one of the men who came with us.

“Hello,” the voice crackles through the speaker.

“Goldchild took Mathijs,” I pant, using the wall for support as I stumble through the corridors.

“What? Shit. Where?” Either Josh or Aiden hisses to someone beside them, “Goldchild’s got Halenbeek.”

I stop to pull up Mathijs’s locator on my phone. I’ve never been so grateful that he had himself chipped like a dog in case of situations like this. I squint at the screen to figure out where the little dot is moving on the map. Jesus Christ. How long was I out for that they’re already on the road?

“Toward Denver.”

The hallway twists and turns as I tumble straight ahead in an attempt to retrace my steps out of this messed-up place. My face is throbbing. My ribs are aching. I’m so damn exhausted, and I want Mathijs back.

Okay, think, Zalak. We need a plan, and I need the fog to disperse from my goddamn brain.

“One of you grab my backpack from the helicopter. Then find us a fucking car.”

“It’s faster if we fly—”

“We don’t know where they’re taking him. And it’s too loud. Get it done. I’ll meet you out front in five.” If I can make it out of here. If I don’t, they could kill Mathijs and—

I choke on the panic, and stamp it as far down as I can. I spent ten years of my life training for this type of situation. Emotions are what gets a person killed in the line of duty. If I drop the ball, Mathijs will die. Plain and simple.

“But—”

I hang up before they can waste more of my energy. Leaning against the wall, I let myself have a twenty-second break to close my eyes, focus on my breathing, and clear my head. Nothing more. Nothing less.

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