Page 78 of The Bait

The stab wound at his side screamed as he moved. He sucked back a breath and his chest pulled agonisingly. Sharp and piercing.

Shit.

Punctured lung?

Broken ribs, then.

Not good.

Then he remembered the room when they’d first thrown him here, before they’d kicked and stomped his head and everything went dark. The room was small, a few metres squared, and empty of furniture. Fully concrete. Therehadbeen overhead lighting but it was off now.

Not even a buzz of electricity, of any kind, that usually rattled through bunkers like this.

Now, there was nothing, except the ringing in his ears.

His head hurt. Everything hurt.

Then he remembered fists and boots raining down on him while he was defenceless with his hands bound behind his back. Some teeth were loose. Back molars, which told him how hard he’d been hit. Explained why his jaw was sore.

Then Harry heard a gasping rattle and he jerked at the sound.

He wasn’t alone in here.

“Who are you?” Harry asked, his voice deep, his eyes straining to adjust to the pitch dark.

A soft groan and another breathy rattle.

Whoever it was, was not in good shape.

Fear struck him cold, his pain now irrelevant.

“Asher?”

Another soft groan and Harry scooted toward the sound. In the corner, he could make out a figure lying on their side. Hands also tied behind their back, feet bound, just like Harry.

Harry scooted until he reached them. He knew itwasn’t Asher. Too tall and his hair was too light—he could see even in the dark—but it was a man. Harry had a sinking realisation of who it was. He nudged him with his leg. “Hey,” he tried again. “Lucas?”

Another raspy inhale.

Harry knew that sound. A punctured lung. Or two.

Harry knew the position the man was in, on his side, was the best position for breathing. He couldn’t assess any other injuries, not in the dark like this. Was he unconscious? Was he dying? Near dead?

That breathy rattle didn’t sound like he had much life left in him.

Harry nudged him again. “Lucas. It’s me, Harry.”

Another shaky breath. “Yunho,” he mumbled.

“They have Asher too.”

Lucas sobbed and wheezed on the inhale. “No, please. God, no,” his English accent soft.

“I don’t know where they are,” Harry admitted. “They separated us. I think they welded the door shut.”

Saying those words out loud... Harry knew what it meant.

They’d been left for dead.

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