Page 58 of Born to Bleed

Her eyes caught on Ben, who strapped a knife to his wrist, pulling his sleeve down to conceal it.

“Are you sure we can’t at least try the last camp? There were so many weapons there…” she mused, recalling the tents filled with supplies that they’d abandoned the night of the attack.

The UNR would take some of them, sure, but all of them? Certainly there were a few helpful tools left behind, and—

“Absolutely not.” Sawyer knelt to the ground, tightening the strap that held a small knife just above his ankle. “They took anything of value. And if they didn’t, it’s a trap. They’ll be watching the area, praying we’re dumb enough to go back for our things.”

She huffed out a breath in frustration.

He was right. But dammit, Hayden’s life was resting in their hands. They needed better weapons. They needed more fighters. They needed—

“Hope we aren’t too late,” Mason’s low voice rumbled, Anna’s eyes snapping up to see him approaching, several more men and women following closely behind. Not everyone was there, but a good portion of the group had shown up. Far more people than Anna had expected to see.

They’d come. They were going to help save Hayden. They hadn’t abandoned them to figure it out on their own. Moisture welled into her eyes, but she quickly blinked it away and cleared her throat.

Sawyer stood, grinning widely and moving to meet him. “Never too late, my friend.” He reached out, hand falling on Mason’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “How much time do you need to prepare?”

“None,” Rachel’s voice came, answering the question instead. “Let’s make them pay.”

Sawyer’s playful grin widened, hope stirring in Anna’s chest. “Let’s do this.”

? ♥ ?

Hayden had no idea how much time had passed. All he knew was that the knots binding his arms together were loosening. He’d found multiple knots behind his back after his father left the room, and he’d slowly but surely worked his way out of them.

He was on what he believed to be the last knot, but already his arms were freer. He was able to move his shoulders a bit, which revealed that he had indeed dislocated one of them.

He’d also figured out that this room was fairly barren of weapons for him to use, obviously assuming there was a chance he’d get free and be able to grab one, but that didn’t matter. Hayden’s hands were a weapon. The rope behind his back was a weapon. The chair he found himself tied to was a weapon.

The fury pumping through his veins from seeing an officer kick a fallen Anna… that was an explosive freaking weapon.

He continued working on the last knot, gently massaging the rope to loosen it up, when the door swung open once more. Hayden froze in his movements, tightening his shoulders despite the screaming pain in his right one, knowing that he had to look like the ropes hadn’t loosened. He needed Greene in front of him, where he couldn’t see the damage Hayden had done to his knots.

“Fath—” before Hayden could get the word out, Greene’s fist had pounded into his jaw, knocking his head to the side.

He ignored the throb, turning back toward him and keeping his face emotionless. Men like his father? They got off on inflicting pain. That’s why he’d journeyed around the country and watched the torturous sterilization procedures being inflicted upon female soldiers. In fact, Hayden was pretty positive he’d been the one to decide there shouldn’t be any type of anesthetic.

It was also why he’d spent the first decade and a half of Hayden’s life slowly slicing and burning away at the left side of his body.

His fist met with his scars once more, blood spilling into Hayden’s mouth from his cheek. He spit it out, still refusing to give in and show pain. Hayden’s entire life had been preparing him for this, and he was more than ready.

“How many fighters does the Resistance have?”

He… couldn’t be serious. Hayden raised an eyebrow, doing his best to keep from laughing or smirking. His father was many things, but stupid, he was not. He had to know that Hayden would never give up his people, his fighters. There was nothing that could be done with him to get him to spill those secrets.

“How many weapons? Ammunition? What type?” He paced the room once. Twice. “Surely after all you’ve done, you can at least give me some answers.”

Hayden’s head was spinning, and it wasn’t from the head injury.

After all he’d done? As if Hayden were the one who tortured and killed innocents? As if he had permanently scarred his father and not the other way around?

Hayden spit the bit of blood that had collected in his mouth, staring up at Greene, not saying a single word. Hayden had been gone for nearly eighteen years, his life with the Resistance longer than his life with the man before him. He would kill and die for his brothers and their movement. Happily.

“I gave my officers standing orders to bring you to me. After all these years, they thought it useless.” He grinned, the smile never meeting his eyes. “But I knew I’d see you again.” He knelt before him, brushing a hand over the side of Hayden’s head. It took everything in him not to yank away from his touch, to head butt him instead and yank the last of the ropes free. He had to play this calmly, had to be smart. “My son.”

Something inside of Hayden snapped. “You are nothing to me.”

He stood, pacing back and forth in front of Hayden, hands behind his back. “Is that what your little friends think, then? They don’t know the truth.”

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