Page 83 of The Bait

Just fucking great.

The wet pang at his side reminded him sharply that he’d been stabbed.

With any luck, he’d bleed to death before he died of dehydration or suffocation.

Heavy weariness settled over him once again. Every ache burned, every pain receptor buzzed. He went back to the wall by Lucas, and slid down, his back resting against it.

His thoughts turned to Asher. How he’d sit on the back veranda of their house with Mala, how he’d smile with the forest behind him. The sound of his laughter, how he’d let fly with a string of Croatian curse words at Harry when he was mad. How he’d pout and complain about putting on a few kilos and Harry had kissed him, telling him he’d never been sexier.

How he’d cried at the ruined buildings of his terrible past just this morning—was it this morning? Yesterday? Last week? Harry wasn’t sure. But Harry was glad he’d been there with him, to hold him, to tell him he was loved.

And if this was their end, then Harry was glad Asher got to let go of that demon before he died.

Harry was just pissed he hadn’t had the chance to killthat asshole who’d done god knows what to Asher as a boy.

Harry wanted to break every bone in that man’s body, peel his skin like a fucking grape, and squeeze his head so hard, with pure rage, that it popped.

Lucas groaned on the floor beside him, coming in and out of consciousness.

“Hey,” Harry said loudly. He wasn’t going to ask this before. Lucas had clearly been through enough. But now Harry needed to know. If they were about to die, then Harry wanted to know. He wanted to know for Asher. “Hey,” he said again, giving Lucas a nudge. “It’s me, Harry.”

“Mm,” he mumbled.

“Answer me, yes or no. You working for MI6?”

Lucas’s breaths grated in and out of him, slow and painful. Harry thought for a moment that Lucas was out of it again and maybe he hadn’t even heard the question.

But then he answered.

“Yes.”

SIXTEEN

Larynx pressedthe tip of his blade into the top of Yunho’s knee, sinking it in half an inch. Yunho bit back a scream, trying to breathe through the pain.

“Tell him what you did,” Istomin said. “Tell him how much the Australian government paid you to string him along in bringing Parrish down?”

Yunho shook his head. “No money.”

“No money? You did it for free?” Istomin asked, his tone sickeningly sweet as Larynx twisted the knife.

Asher heard the pop of Yunho’s patella, and Yunho tried not to scream. He was panting, spit frothing at his lips.

Larynx yanked his head back by his hair. “Or did you pilfer the funds from another transaction? One set by the British?” Istomin asked. Larynx pulled Yunho’s head back harder and Istomin peered angrily into his face. “The fucking British, you piece of shit with your piece of shit boyfriend. You wanna know what we did to him?”

Yunho sobbed.

Istomin smiled evilly. “Or should I show you?”

He nodded to Radovic, who Asher hadn’t even noticed. “Untie his hands and hold them up.”

He did as he was told, yanking Yunho’s hands around and up over his head. Yunho had no fight in him, no resistance.

Then Istomin aimed a sinister smile aimed at Asher. “Did this to your boyfriend too,” he said. “But he was so out of it by then. Took one helluva beating, that man.”

Fear and dread sunk cold in Asher’s belly, spreading like ice through his limbs. “What did you do to him?” Asher asked, bile roiling in his gut.

Istomin grinned at him. “This.” He gave a nod to Larynx, who felt down Yunho’s exposed sides, through his shirt, along his ribs. “Right here,” he said, in his terrible voice. “Between the third and fourth rib, the blade at the perfect angle...” He put the tip of the blade where his fingers had been, then thumped the base of the hilt of the knife with the heel of his hand. The blade sunk into Yunho, and he wailed.

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