I can choose to die. These bastards can’t enslave me and force me to do things that I don’t want. It’s either that or death, and I’ll make my choice.
I bunch my fists, readying myself. It’s going to hurt. I know it’ll hurt. But I can take pain. I’ve taken pain my whole life. That’s not the issue. I just hope it doesn’t break me even more.
I’ll go for his eyes. Maybe blind him. I’ll jam my fingers into his right eye as hard as I can and then attack him. Maybe it’ll destroy his eye for good, I can’t really say.
I tense, readying myself. Anton leers at me, still talking, but I’m not hearing anything. It doesn’t matter at all.
And suddenly, there’s a noise in the other room. It’s loud, and people start yelling. Anton stands suddenly and turns away from me.
“Stay,” he says, and then leaves the room.
I release my fists and collapse back.
I was too slow. Whatever just happened may have doomed me to this life forever. Maybe I’ll get another chance, but maybe I won’t. It’s impossible to say.
The yelling continues, but I don’t hear it. I’m too busy sobbing. I see myself as if from a great distance, sobbing as hard as I can, my whole body wracked with pain and emotion. Logan is dead and my life is done. I had hope but now it’s dashed and destroyed.
At least I got the night on the beach. I felt the sand under my toes, the surf at my feet. And Logan’s body in that cave. It was beautiful. It was perfect. At least he gave me that before I give myself up completely.
As the noise intensifies, I just wrap myself into a ball and cry. I’ve given up completely and whatever is happening doesn’t matter at all. I’m lost and Logan is lost. Whatever love I felt is dead and gone now.
I’m just a bundle of nothing, dashed to bits on a reef.
28
Logan
I don’t think I’ve ever driven this fast in my fucking life. I drove down the streets of Fallujah with the fucking Taliban trying to kill me once, but this time I’m driving even goddamn faster.
The Mexican desert whips past my windows. I’m pushing eighty in a place where I should be doing twenty, and it’s dangerous as fuck, but I have to risk it. I need to get back in time to help Riley.
As I drive, my computer begins beeping. I grunt and force myself to slow down enough so that I can safely check it for new messages. I keep driving, but I glance down at the screen as more information scrolls in.
They want me to meet up with a local unit on the south side of the compound. Apparently, they think I’ll be a good asset to help coordinate the strike, which of course I would, since I’m the only person with an intimate knowledge of the inside.
That’s a solid plan from command. I can’t deny the logic. I shouldn’t be on the front lines but back with the generals, helping to coordinate the attack. If I were to get killed, we’d lose a ton of valuable information that only I have at this moment. I’m too useful for them to risk.
And normally I’d obey. Especially an order that results in my genuinely helping them succeed. I want to see these bastards fucking burn, and I’ll do whatever I can to make sure it happens.
But I can’t do this. I know that if I disobey this order, they’ll fire me and make sure I never work again in security. It’s the only thing I know how to do and I can’t imagine doing anything but this. I live for the fight and for winning against the bastards I’m assigned to destroy.
But I can’t leave Riley alone. I know the guys in my squads are all good men, but I can’t risk Riley getting hurt. Anton might have taken her already and he might hurt her just out of spite, and I can’t allow that. I can relay this information to a squad, but they don’t have the same desire that I do.
I’ll fight harder than I can imagine for her, and I have to do it. I can’t sit back in some general’s tent and direct other men to fight and maybe die on my behalf. I started this and I have to finish it.
I shut the laptop and toss it aside, hitting the gas again. They’ll be angry, very angry, but that’s okay. They’ll have to survive without me. I know they will. I’ll send them a message when I get to the compound, but not before. I don’t want to risk them intercepting me before I can get back inside. I know they’re likely tracking me at this very moment.
They can track me all they want. That doesn’t mean I’m going to roll over and do what they want me to do. I’ve been pushing for this move now for a week and they kept putting me off. They can go to hell.
I have my own priorities now.
The truck flies through the small town just outside of the compound. I slow down as I approach the walls, heart beating fast.