Page 40 of Depraved

The dying man's knees buckled and he collapsed to the floor with a wet thud. Blood pooled around him, soaking into the carpet. His chest heaved once, twice, and then went still.

I turned to Layla, my heart seizing as I saw her crumpled form. Her head had struck the wall when she fell, a trickle of blood matting her bronze hair. Her eyes were closed, face slack in unconsciousness.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Alex moving with surprising speed for someone fucked up on drugs. He lunged at one of the remaining men, throwing his cuffed arms over the bastard's head. The chain of the handcuffs pressed against the man's throat as Alex yanked back, cutting off his air supply.

The man's legs kicked uselessly as he struggled, hands clawing at the unyielding metal crushing his windpipe. His mask slipped, revealing wide, panicked eyes and lips turning blue from lack of oxygen.

I could hear the wet, strangled sounds of the man's desperate attempts to breathe. His struggles grew weaker, movements becoming jerky and uncoordinated as his brain was starved of oxygen. A dark satisfaction unfurled in my chest as I watched the life slowly drain from him.

The last man cursed, turning and fleeing back up the stairs. I watched dispassionately as the last tremors wracked the body of the man in Alex’s grip. When he went limp, Alex let the corpse drop to the floor with a dull thud.

I moved to the first man I'd killed, the acrid tang of blood and released bowels filling my nostrils. I fished through his pockets until my fingers closed around cool metal. The knife was a cheap switchblade, but it would do.

The lock on my cuffs gave way with a satisfying click. I tossed the blade to Alex without a word, my attention already fixed on Layla.

Blood matted her hair where her head had struck the wall, the coppery scent calling to the primal part of me that still thirsted for violence. I focused on the slow rise and fall of her chest. She was alive. For now.

I gathered her in my arms, her body feeling small and fragile against my bulk. It was easy to forget how tiny she was when her personality filled a room. Now, unconscious, she seemed almost delicate. The thought made something twist painfully in my chest.

Her skin was cool to the touch, pulse thready beneath my fingers as I checked her neck. A growl rumbled in my throat. Whoever was responsible for this would pay dearly.

CHAPTER 15

Layla

The first thing I registered was pain. It was a dull, throbbing ache that seemed to radiate from every cell in my body. My head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, thoughts slow and sluggish as I clawed my way back to consciousness.

I blinked, trying to bring the world into focus. The room was dark, shadows pressing in from all sides. For a moment, panic bubbled up as memories of shipping containers, cages and dank basements flooded my mind. But the surface beneath me was soft. A bed, I realized slowly.

My hair felt damp against my neck, my skin clean in a way that suggested I'd recently bathed. The scent of unfamiliar soap clung to me, mingling with the musty odor of old linens. I was wearing an oversized t-shirt that definitely wasn't mine, the fabric soft and worn against my skin.

As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I became aware of a presence at the foot of the bed. A dark silhouette, barely visible in the shadows. The ember of a cigarette flared to life, casting a brief, hellish glow across familiar features.

River.

Relief flooded through me, followed quickly by utter fucking confusion.Where were we? How had we escaped?The last thing I remembered was pain exploding through my skull as it struck concrete.

I pushed myself up on shaky arms, propping myself up on my elbows. Surprisingly, I didn’t feel as bad as I should have after hitting my head on a concrete wall, just dizzy and sore.

I opened my mouth to speak, but only a dry rasp escaped my parched throat. River moved silently, materializing at my side with a glass of water. His hand cupped the back of my head gently as he held the glass to my lips.

"Easy," he murmured, “Small sips."

The water was tepid and tasted vaguely metallic, but it felt like heaven as it slid down my raw throat. When I'd drunk my fill, River set the glass aside and perched on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight.

"What happened?" I croaked, my voice still rough. "Where are we?"

When he spoke, his words were measured, careful. "We're still in the compound where they were holding us. Just upstairs now."

My brow furrowed as I tried to piece together the fragments of memory. "How...?"

"They made the mistake of touching you, when I specifically asked them not to. I warned them what would happen once the effects of the gas had worn off. They found out the hard way."

"And now?"

"Now we wait. The others will be back soon enough. We took out the three, but I think they were just lackeys. Alex is contacting Sarge right now.”

I gestured for the cigarette and River passed it to me without a word. The familiar burn of smoke filled my lungs as I took a long drag, letting the nicotine calm my frayed nerves.

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