Page 91 of Her Faithful Protector

I writhe, drawing from the contact, only to be reminded of Willem’s control. The touch of his fingers abrades my skin like sandpaper. His voice grates on my nerves, and the scent that surrounds him is a nauseating blend of stale meat and pungent sweat. I had hoped to forget this smell, just like the aroma of the chamomile tea he used to sip.

I’ve promised Jack no one else would see my body. But I take it all with grace because I have something in store for this barbaric assailant.

34

JACK

My vision remains distorted by the effects of the drug. The room spins and blurs, but my instincts kick in. I discern Willem gradually distancing himself from Ava, strategically choosing his position. His voice cuts through the fog as he commands, “Take off your bra.”

Rough air swirls in my throat as I try to scream. Rage swells behind my face until it feels like my eyeballs might burst from their sockets. I don’t know if I still have a functioning arm under the tight taping, but the agony is nothing compared to the horror unfolding before me.

I tremble in my seat, desperately trying to free my bound arms. The bearded man stands behind me. I should feel the cold blade pressed against my throat, poised to slice through my flesh, but his attention is fixated on Ava. He eagerly watches as she moves her healthy arm behind her back, loosening the only garment covering her torso.

My eyes shut tightly, unable to witness her humiliation, while my body remains paralyzed.

But suddenly, everything stops. Ava stops, refusing to strip herself.

“Do it!” Willem snaps, his annoyance evident.

These precious seconds of resistance give me an opportunity to shift my position unnoticed. Summoning every ounce of strength, I raise my buttocks off the ground, making the metal chair lift. The armrests remain affixed to my body, causing the weight to bear heavily on my arms. The excruciating pain threatens to knock me back down, but the stakes are higher than anything I have ever faced. I’ve endured peril in battles at remote outposts, where death was more certain than staying alive, but the fight in my hand is for Ava. My move could be my downfall or my last chance to see her, but I must try.

Ava remains still, her rigid posture leaving Willem unsure of how to react.

Suddenly, she swings her arm toward his face. A soft, crushing sound travels to my ear, like a fork piercing a ripe tomato. Then all I can hear is Willem crying out in pain, his body recoiling. In that split second, I glimpse blood oozing from his eye. My God! Ava has just stabbed him with the stylus pen she used to sketch me.

Seizing the opportunity, I rotate myself, relying only on my two feet as my other limbs are restrained. The chair is already off the ground, so it takes less than a second to find its target. I knock the bearded man off his feet as he rushes to assist his master. He tumbles to the ground, and I swiftly drop the chair’s steel base over him, crashing onto his torso. He struggles, but he’s going nowhere.

Meanwhile, I hear Willem pleading in the corner, “Ava…” His demeanor has completely transformed from just a minute ago. “Let me go, and I will give you the password to that machine. You know what’s in there,” he says, pointing at the smallest computer.

My attention shifts back to the bearded man who’s trappedunder my chair. He discards his knife and reaches for his gun. I grind the steel against his shoulder and neck again and again. Finally, his grip on the weapon weakens, and he becomes limp.

A whimper stretches from the corner where Willem is lying, but it’s not his own. I swivel to see where Ava is. Willem’s treatment of her makes me feel like I’m on a gibbet, stopping me from breathing. His right eye resembles a grotesque lump of blood, but it doesn’t stop his murderous intent. He deprives Ava of air by wrapping his arm around her neck while they are both stretched out on the floor.

“Let her go!” I boom, gyrating. There’s no way I can free myself, but I have to snag the bearded man’s gun. Somehow.

Shifting my body weight to one side, I exerted pressure on the chair, causing it to tip over to my right, my good side. I maneuvered myself to create space for my taped arm to reach the abandoned gun. Pain lashes my upper body as I strained against the binds, but I persevere, stretching my fingers until they found purchase on the firearm.

My hand takes aim despite the restriction on my wrist. The only hurdle I face is Ava, who is practically lying on Willem like a fire blanket. She must expose him, or the bullet will hit her.

“Ava! Lift your legs!” I order desperately. “Lift them!”

Despite the suffocating grip around her throat, she summons a surge of strength and releases a determined scream. Her legs lift in the air like a gymnast, and her abdomen and buttocks contract with an intense force.

I pull the trigger.

Time slows down as her body descends, allowing me to witness the bullet’s impact on Willem’s stomach. Given its trajectory, I’m confident it will ultimately reach his chest.

Barely conscious, Ava crawls toward me while I’m still anchored to the chair, lying on one side.

But she stops and screams, “Jack!”

Maimed and perhaps half dead, the bearded man stands over me, holding a knife. He’s approaching from the opposite direction of where my gun is aimed, making it impossible for me to get him. He lunges towards me, intent on completing his task.

But his assault is abruptly stopped by a gunshot to his neck. I have no clue where the shot came from, but it was of sniper caliber. As the bearded man falls onto me, his hand releases the knife, and his life slips away.

“Jack! Jack!” Ava rolls the corpse aside and then collapses next to my shoulder.

A voice suddenly calls out from somewhere hidden in the ceiling. I could’ve mistaken it as God, but it’s former SEAL sniper Tyler Hunt—the Red Mark head of ops, my rescue partner. “Jack! Ava!”

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