Page 77 of Hunted, Season Three

Throw my weight back.

Attempt to create distance.

Room for air.

A single breath.

He simply tightens his hold a second time while his boss unleashes another strike to the opposite side.

Hisses can’t be had externally but are ceaselessly happening internally.

“Funny thing about people, Woods.”A third blow lands on top of the last.“The more pain they’re in…the more likely they are to tell you what you want to know.”He rotates the damaged location again.“And the closer to death they get…” this slam sends new, excruciating pain racing up my spine, “the more honest they are.”His backhanded whack creates an audible cracking sound.“That was one of your ribs in case you were wondering.”

Between my obstructed windpipe and increasingly unbearable pangs in my chest, it becomes almost impossible to keep my eyes open.

Mind alert.

Thoughts on anything that isn’t the misery seeping into each and every nerve ending.

“Where is the female target?”calmly inquires the attacker.

Safe.

Somewhere not here, not where they can grab her, not where they can just do to her or our baby what they’re doing to me.

My lack of response receives me two more hits to the side that doesn’t have a broken bone.

Yet.

“Where is the female target?”repeats the man in charge, voice along with demeanor eerily composed.

No.

I won’t say shit.

I’ll die first.

“You’ve got bigger balls than your file made it sound, Woods,” the assaulter compliments, “but I’ve got a track record to keep, so…” cold metal is unforgivingly wedged into the severely damaged territory prompting my body to strain itself while trying to flee, “where.Is.The.Female.Target?”

Resistance to speak continues until another crack buckles my knees, “Fuckkkkk!”

“Where is she, Woods?”

Tears threaten to leave the corners of my eyes.

Unfortunately for him, the answer he desperately wants never does.

“Where-” the repeated question is abruptly cut off courtesy of him pushing a button on his earpiece.“Speak.”

Regardless of my inability to hear it, the gear shift in his expression tells me everything I need to know.

That I was hoping wasn’t gonna happen.

Couldn’t happen.

The fucking reason we didn’t want Bunny somewhere without one of us.

“Deliver the female target to the extraction point,” he instructs at the same time he steps back.Post another push of the button, he matter-of-factly states, “You can dispose of Woods here.”The tool he was using is thoughtlessly thrown to the side.“He’s no longer needed for questioning.”

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