Page 57 of Meet Me In The Dark

As a young SEAL, nervous about his potential death but too cocky to show it, Conor spent a lot of his free time picturing what the afterlife would be like. But of all the ways that Conor had imagined it, it was never like this: opening his eyes to a pale-yellow glow that illuminated the dark shadows lining another concrete cell, this one bigger than the last, the sound of Luke’s and Micah’s murmurs, soft, feminine snores, the copper scent of blood, and with it, the devastating smell of bee balm. Sharp, intense pain radiated through his chest to the rest of his body. And beside him was Kara, curled up on the cold ground, purple hair covering her face, her hand holding his free one, even in sleep.

Because his other hand was chained to the wall.

So, either he’d been sent to hell, and hell was another version of the professor’s bunker with the woman he loved forced to endure eternity beside him… or he wasn’t dead.

Based on the pain in his chest, he guessed he wasn’t dead.

He cared less about that and more that Kara was alive.

For now.

He tried to swallow and ease the dryness in his throat, but it stuck together like sandpaper.

“What happened?” He managed to croak the words. “Is Kara okay?”

Luke and Micah, both shirtless, hands zip tied behind their backs, covered in filth and grime and what looked like fresh blood, looked over at him.

“Oh, thank fuck, you’re awake,” Micah said.

Luke didn’t speak. His eyes were a dark, angry forest, promising retribution.

“Luke, man…” Conor started.

Luke shook his head. “I don’t want to hear it. You’re alive, the rest can wait.”

There was an unusual awkward silence between them, as Conor struggled with what to say. “What happened? Why is Kara asleep?”

Micah spoke, his voice low. “She’s fine. Ish. Had a horrible panic attack while you were in surgery, cried for hours after. She finally passed out, which is a relief.” He cleared his throat. “You took the bullet meant for her. The bullet hit you about an inch from your heart, so you were almost—” He broke off. If Conor wasn’t wrong, Micah’s eyes were wet. But then, it was hard to tell for sure in the dim light of the bare lightbulb overhead. “You almost didn’t make it. Fortunately, Christopher has a surgeon on staff, and a penchant for sadism and torture that makes Luke look like a teddy bear. He said that?—”

“Fortunately?” Luke interrupted. “You think anything about this situation is fortunate?”

“Of course not,” Micah snapped, his calm gone. “But losing our shit over it isn’t the answer. We’ve been in worse situations.”

“Yeah, the three of us have. Not with Kara. You were supposed to keep her safe.”

Micah gritted his teeth. “I fucking tried, okay? We talked about this already.”

Conor wanted to talk about that part, more. But first he needed the rest of the story. “What did the professor say?”

“Christophersaid that it was a waste, letting you die from a bullet wound. That he had other plans for the four of us, and so ‘out of the goodness of his heart’ he was going to save your life.”

“For now,” Luke muttered. “He’s going to save your lifefor now.”

Micah shrugged. Or tried to. “It’s another day that we’re alive. I’ll take as many as we can get.” Micah returned to his story. “You were under the knife for a while; fortunately, they were able to get the bullet out, give you a blood transfusion, patch you up.”

“And don’t worry, because he ‘won’t hurt us until you fully recover,’” Luke added. “He says he’s saving it for the ‘grand finale.’” Luke snorted, but there was no humor in it. “Real saint, that guy.”

Luke’s arm was broken; having it twisted behind his back had to be causing him an incredible amount of pain. But did it matter? If they were still trapped there, then they were all going to be in incredible amounts of pain soon.

Even Kara.

Oh, god. Kara.

“I still don’t understand,” Conor said, trying to piece it together. “He was down. Kara shot him. All his men were down. So how are we here?”

“Seems like there’s a whole second underground level to this bunker. Or research facility. Or whatever it is. And there was a second team of Christopher’s soldiers. Back up, in caseof emergency.Wewere the emergency. I’m sorry,” Micah said, shaking his head. “It’s my fault. I got distracted by you being shot and didn’t move fast enough.”

Conor could picture it in his head: him, bleeding on the floor, Kara screaming his name, Luke and Micah too worried to move until it was too late and they were surrounded by a new group of guards and there was a gun shoved in Kara’s face. And Chris, laughing hysterically, even in pain, knowing he’d won.

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