Page 93 of Tear Me Down
“You’re on a time crunch. Avery has something planned.” I let that bomb drop on purpose, needing to see his reaction so I can tell Damien later on if we were right. Any information I can get from him now will be beneficial to us later.
He glares at me, as if he never expected Avery’s name to leave my mouth, and his face hardens as he realizes that if I know, Damien knows, and that causes some major problems for him.
“Your little band of rent-a-cops are smarter than I thought. Much more than hobbyists playing around in the garage. You’re exactly right, and Devil’s Hands is making it very difficult to achieve my goal in the amount of time I'm allotted.” He raises his hand and begins to run it down my body, instantly making me queasy, but I hold it together, not allowing him the satisfaction of a reaction just yet.
“The more you touch me, the more you’re adding to the ways Damien is going to torture your pathetic ass.”
“That’s if he ever finds you, my dear. Don’t worry, I won’t have my fun with you quite yet. I need to be sure Damien can seeeverything.” He retrieves a knife from his pocket and opens it. I can’t help but flinch at the clicking sound, and that only makes him chuckle again. “All I can think of is how angry he’ll be as he watches me touch you. He was seething just from me speaking to you at that party.” He grazes the knife against my skin before it catches on the hem of my tank top, and he aggressively pulls up, tearing through the thin fabric and leaving me exposed. “I wonder if he’ll ever look at you the same way again after I’m through with you. Perhaps I should leave you alive just to see the disgust on his face when he realizes that I’ve vandalized his precious toy.” Ice shoots through my veins and I thrash, trying to get him away from me, but that only widens his grin—showing off a vile smile. “Does the thought of that bother you, little one?”
“Fuck you!” I yell out, letting my anger and fear get the best of me. He raises the tip of the knife to just under my chin, and pushes up, forcing me to look directly into his eyes at the bite of the blade. He lowers his face closer to mine and stops so close to me that I can smell his breath, the horrid aroma almost making me vomit.
“That can be arranged,” he whispers.
“He’s going to have you begging for death by the time he’s done with you,” I seethe with a shaky murmur, my anger, fear, and control all battling against one another.
“You’re so sure,” he taunts.
I flinch again at the sound of a heavy door opening and closing, and while I don’t move my gaze from Dranan’s, I can hear another man step up behind him.
“We’re ready, sir. The broadcast is equipped whenever you’re prepared to begin,” the new guy says, sounding more professional than I’ve ever heard from one of Dust’s men.
“Showtime, my dear.” He takes the knife away from my jaw, and slips it back into his pocket, only to be handed a much larger buck knife. True fear explodes in my chest, and I draw a deep gasp to the sight. I close my eyes and hang my head, mentally preparing myself for what’s about to come.
Damien, please hurry…
Chapter thirty-three
Damien
Tony got a hit on the tattoo, a man named Vladimir Linx. A month ago, he was arrested for assault and public intoxication right in downtown, but his rap sheet is much worse. Rape mostly, and that almost sent me spiraling again. My dad's contact knew the symbol and confirmed it’s one they’ve seen before—said it’s part of some secret assassin society they’ve been trying to infiltrate for a while now. We convinced them to send over any information they had on them, and as it turns out, they’ve been investigating possible training locations in North Carolina, and with Carter and Zander’s hacking skills, we were able to gather satellite images of the three possible locations. Only one as of seven hours ago was buzzing, and the same black van from our home security system is parked in the back.
I sway back and forth on the bench as the HMTT soars down the highway, on our way to save my woman. I can feel her more and more the closer we get, and the anxiety is building. They caged my little wolf in that warehouse, and now they're about to experience what the Alpha does when his mate is threatened. The moment we heard about North Carolina, we started gathering supplies and got the images of the warehouses on the way.
Zeke, Alex, my dad and I, and about twenty-four ex-military special operatives are on our way. Our third vehicle is an old ambulance we purchased not too long ago and started remodeling to meet our needs. Danielle, Serena, Carter, Zander, and a bunch of medical equipment are aboard that oversized van, and it pains me to think that we may need any of the gear on it, but until I can see her with my own eyes, I’m expecting the worst. A part of me was shocked when Serena demanded to come, but with her education in trauma medical practices, she’ll be useful when we pull Ashia out of there.
Who knows what they’ve done to her…
The thought almost paralyzes me, and memories of the images from her previous attacks come to the forefront of my mind—latching on like a demonic spirit, but I hold on. We’re almost there. This is going to be the worst moment of my life, but I have to hang on. If I slip into the pain and agony now, I won’t be what she needs me to be. I won’t evolve into the God of War she sees me as.
“D! You're going to want to see this! It’s being broadcasted through the connection feed at the Basement,” I hear Carter say through my earpiece, and I pull out my phone.
“Cast it to me.” In only a matter of seconds, a live stream pops onto the screen, and my heart stops, the rest of the world shrinking to fit on this screen. Zeke leans in to watch, and I hear the small, breathless ‘fuck’ he mutters under his breath.
It's her… the love of my life… Strung up like bait and half naked. There’s dried blood covering her forehead and a bruise forming around an angry looking gash. The ringing in my ears comes back, and I swear I can hear her shaky breaths. She’s obviously trying to hold it in and conceal how afraid she is, but I can see it. Every minuscule movement from her is extreme to me, and I don’t miss a single shake of her trembling form. Tunnel vision sets in, and I’m staring so harshly at the screen that I’m not sure I’m blinking or breathing.
After what feels like an eternity, Hugo steps in from the right side of the screen, looking as smug and revolting as ever.
“Damien Hartley,” he calls me in a teasing, self-satisfied tone. “You've caused many problems for me, and I would like to offer you the chance to make things right. I have a dealer who’s waiting for you just outside of your small city, and he has a copious amount of my product that you will take with grace. You will retrieve the drugs from him and begin distributing them throughout the city. You’re resourceful and will know how to get to him. It will be your job, and your job alone, to get it out in the next forty-eight hours. Until you cooperate, your lovely fiancé will be in my care.” He steps up to her and holds his hand out like he’s showing her for auction.
“Don’t do it, Damien!” she yells and I can’t help but flinch as he thrusts his hand backward, slapping her across the face. She tries to act unfazed, but I can see the way her eyes widen just before she blinks repeatedly, trying to focus her now swirling vision. He doesn’t even allow her a moment before he presents a large knife and holds it against her collarbone.
“I will cut her up for an hour.” He warns just before he begins slicing into the skin on her chest, dragging the blade down between her breasts. The blood immediately starts to trickle down her body and run over her stomach—showing just how shallow, but intensely, he’s cutting her.
She doesn’t scream or wince, but she looks up towards the ceiling, careful not to show her emotions to the camera... To me… But I know my little wolf, how her slight tremors show her fear, and how the strain in her muscles display her past trauma rising to the surface. This man did his homework, and knew what would affect us…
“After that hour…” He trails off as he takes the knife and drives it into the top of her left shoulder. She grits her teeth, clearly biting her tongue, and shakes through the hold of the ropes. I grip the edge of the bench, feeling the metal creak in my hold as my rage intensifies. It's as if I can feel her pain. Hell, I wish I could take the blows for her. I'd endure everything she’s feeling tenfold if it meant she didn't have to bear this.
She doesn’t scream, regardless of how badly she wants to, and even as the tears threaten to spill over her beautiful lashes, she doesn't let them fall. He yanks it back out, and I'm forced to watch as blood drips out of the wound. It races down the side of her body and only stops once the fabric of her shorts absorbs it.
