Page 141 of Promises in the Dark

“Move!” another shouted, jabbing me in the back with his rifle.

They herded us back into the village, rifles pressed against our backs like we were cattle being led to the slaughter. I could feel Red behind me, her breath uneven. The rest of the team didn’t look much better—sweat dripping down their faces, but they held their ground. We weren’t the type to beg.

They shoved us down to our knees in the middle of the village square, the dirt grinding into my legs, but that was the least of my problems. I scanned the area, trying to spot a way out, some crack in their formation, but it was all looking bad.

The locals—those we’d come to help, goddammit—were hiding. Doors closed, windows barred. They weren’t coming to save us. Hell, it wasn’t their problem. Nobody wants to catch a bullet for some poor bastards who had walked into their territory unprepared.

A murmur went through the crowd of insurgents. Then their leader strutted out from behind some half-collapsed building,slow and deliberate, like he had all goddamn day. Older guy, scarred face, sun-baked skin—looked like life had kicked him around, and he loved every second of it.

And when he came into full view, my blood fucking froze. I knew him. I’d recognize that ugly mug anywhere. He was the same bastard who had ambushed us—he had put a knife to Red’s head and yanked her necklace right off her throat.

His lips curled into this smug little grin as he caught the look on my face. He strolled up to me, taking his sweet time, his boots crunching in the dirt, his men parting for him like he was some goddamn king. He stopped in front of me, his gaze flicking from me to Red, then back to me.

“Ah, the American soldier,” he sneered, his English mangled but clear enough to get the point across. “You remember me, yes?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. The hatred burning in my eyes probably said enough.

The bastard grinned wider, enjoying this. He squatted down in front of me, getting right in my face, close enough that I could smell the rot of his breath, could see the ugly scar running down the side of his cheek.

“I remember you,” he said, tapping a finger against his chest. “You... and your woman.”

He glanced at Red again, and I tensed, wanting to rip his throat out. But with my hands tied and a dozen rifles pointed at us, I couldn’t do shit.

“You think... you save village?” he asked, mockingly. “You bring supplies... food. Hm. But who will save... you?”

I kept my eyes locked on him, trying to keep my breathing steady, but every word out of his mouth was stoking the fire in me.

The bastard stood up, pacing in front of us like he owned the place. Maybe he did, for now. His men snickered, poking us with their rifles any time we moved. The whole situation was a goddamn joke, and we were the punchline.

“You... kill my men,” he continued, turning his gaze back to me. His expression darkened, and he spat onto the ground at my feet. “You think you... strong? Brave? Hm. You will see.”

He barked something in Pashto to one of his guys, and the dude handed him a pistol. He waved it in my face.

“Maybe... I start with... her,” he said, motioning toward Red with the gun and his grin widened when he saw me tense up.

My heart was thudding in my chest, anger pulsing through my veins. This prick was screwing with me, and he knew exactly how to do it. Red stayed quiet, her eyes locked on the ground, but I could feel her fear.

“Please, don’t,” she finally said.

The leader’s eyes gleamed. “Ah, you beg?” he said, leaning down to her level. “No need... beg. I am... merciful.”

“Fuck you,” I spat, unable to hold it in any longer.

His smile vanished and he walked over, slamming the butt of his rifle into my gut. Pain exploded through my stomach, knocking the air out of my lungs, but I didn’t let out a sound.

“You... shut up,” he hissed, his voice low and full of malice. “You... no power here.”

Then he chuckled, low and dark, before motioning to one of his thugs. The guy stepped forward, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking my head back so I had no choice but to stare up at that piece of shit in the face. He crouched again, slower this time, reaching into his pocket.

My gut clenched when he pulled out a small object—Red’s necklace. That familiar, tiny chain swung between his fingers like some sort of sick fucking trophy.

“You remember this?” he asked, waving it in front of my face like I was supposed to grovel.

Then he dangled it in front of Red, letting the pendant swing in front of her like a goddamn tease.

“You want this, yes? Maybe you beg, I give it back.”

Red’s eyes flicked up, locking onto the necklace, and for a moment, I saw something in her expression—something fragile, broken. But it was gone as quickly as it came. She looked away, biting her lip, refusing to give him the reaction he wanted.

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