He hadn’t even thought to ask him when he’d slept last or eaten. Had they even fed him?
Asher opened his mouth, to say what he wasn’t sure, when the door banged open and footfalls stomped into the door. Asher jumped, but Yunho cringed back and whined.
“It’ll be okay,” Asher said.
But then hands grabbed him and hauled him up. His hood was ripped off and he could see faces in the dark room. He spun around to see Yunho; they’d taken his hood off too, his face all banged up, eye swollen, cut and bleeding. His eyes wide and terrified as he looked at Asher.
“Tranq him before he has another seizure,” one of the men said, struggling to hold Yunho.
Then they slapped one of those white patches on their necks, and they were hauled back out under the bright lights. Everything was hazy, swirling, his feet heavy, and he was dragged back out to the main room and up the stairs. He tried to take in details. He tried to look around, tried to look for Harry. He needed to find him.
There was no Harry.
But there was blood on the floor.
Then he couldn’t focus, he couldn’t think. His head was too heavy and his eyes wouldn’t stay open. He tried to talk. He tried to fight the hold they had on him. But then they threw him into the back of an army truck.
And Asher’s world went dark.
Asher wokeup to the rumble of an engine and the vibration of a moving vehicle. His face was pressed to the cold metal floor and it took him a second to remember...
He’d been shoved into the back of an army truck. The troop-carrier kind with the canvas canopy. It was dark and loud. He had no clue how long they’d been driving for or how far they’d gone. Which meant he had no clue where he was. He pushed up with a groan, trying to sit up, which wasn’t easy given his hands and feet were still bound.
His body ached, his head was fuzzy.
Then he noticed Yunho, lying on his side, his back to Asher. He still had the black hood on, but Asher was sure it was him. His hands were tied behind his back, his feet bound, just like Asher’s. But Asher knew those arms, those hands.
“Yunho,” Asher said.
Nothing.
He scooted over the best he could, nudging Yunho. “Wake up,” he hissed at him.
Nothing.
He shoved him harder, moving him over so he could lie on his back, and Asher saw the white medical patch on Yunho’s neck. The same one that Asher had. The same ones they’d used to kidnap Yunho and Lucas from the island.
Yunho groaned, then he froze for a split second before scooting up and backwards, pushing with his feet and shaking his head, scared as hell.
“It’s me,” Asher said. “Yunho, it’s me, Asher. We’re in the back of a truck. I don’t know where we are or where we’re headed. They took my hood off. It’s just you and me in here. I don’t know where Harry is.” Asher tried not tocry. He felt like he could vomit, and panic was beginning to set in. “If they killed him, Yunho, I will...”
He didn’t know what he’d do. What he could do, given his predicament.
He shook his head, trying to not think of it.
He couldn’t bear the thought of it.
Yunho groaned again, his head falling forward. His breathing was laboured and his whole body was shaking, and Asher remembered Yunho’s agoraphobia and anxiety, his epilepsy and PTSD, and how extraordinarily awful this must have been for him.
“You okay?” Asher asked.
No reply.
“We’ll find them,” Asher said eventually. “We’ll find them. I promise.”
Yunho’s whole body went stiff and he slumped back to the floor. He shook with tremors, and fucking hell, Asher wasn’t sure if he was breathing. Asher sidled up close to him, like he had in the dark room they’d been in, letting Yunho lean into him.
The body contact had to help.