Page 57 of Conquered Betrayal
“What do you want from me?” I gritted between clenched teeth.
His eyes crinkled. “To find out how sister dearest likes regaining consciousness in a cell with a beast. She’s desperately terrified of you lot, did you know?”
My already nauseous stomach twisted and clenched.
He turned and strode away. “Deal with him,” he said over his shoulder.
One of the tactical guy’s faces filled my vision, a remote in his hand. “Sleepy time.”
Pain ricocheted through my body as the light faded from my eyes.
19
JOLYN
“I can’t do this anymore,”I said into my phone. “He wants to take me out, likedateme. I can’t keep lying to him. I’m not good at this.”
And Landon didn’t deserve my dishonesty. Ever since I started working for him, he’d been nothing but kind, making sure I had everything I needed—not only at work, but at my new apartment too. He was sweet, and courteous, and hot as hell. When I was with him, I had a hard time remembering my purpose here. Because I wished it were real.
“It’s perfect. Date him.”
Emerson’s words were like a splash of cold water. He couldn’t mean…
“Do whatever it takes.” The band around my chest tightened, my stomach churning with nausea the more he spoke. “Learn as much about him and his friends as possible. You do everything in your power, or don’t bother coming home.”
I stared at the wall in front of me, not seeing it.
“Oh, and you should probably go on some type of birth control.”
The call disconnected. I couldn’t move, my phone shaking in my hand.
* * *
Consciousness trickled in through the cracks in my brain, slow and thready. Fear settled in my stomach before I opened my eyes. Something bad had happened, but I couldn’t remember what. The scent of stale bodily fluids and dirt surrounded me, a chill hung in the air along with an unsettling silence. There was something familiar and comforting too—the crisp scent I associated with Landon.
I shivered like I’d once been warm, but the warmth had left me recently. My face pressed against soft fabric, hardness beneath it. I opened my eyes and focused on the hand in front of my face pressed flat against concrete. Everything in here was layered in shadows. I waited for my eyes to adjust. The cold floor spread before me, ending in a solid metal wall, the corrugated kind Emerson liked to use in his facilities. Pushing up with my hands, I turned my head to see an identical wall opposite it. A wad of black material separated my cheek from the concrete.
The sense of dread in my chest intensified, the tightness making it hard to breathe.Where am I?I trembled harder, the freezing air seeping into my bones. I wore the long black T-shirt and cargo pants I’d had on under my tactical gear when we’d gone to the bottling plant, but my vest, belt, and weapons weren’t weighing me down.
The memories of that op tumbled through my mind. I lifted myself more. Landon’s scent came at me again, from the wadded, blood-encrusted fabric below my face. My breath quickened. A concrete wall faced me, a gap at the top letting in a small amount of light. What looked like metal tracks ran along the floor and ceiling from one corrugated wall to the other.
“Are you all right?”
I turned at Landon’s voice, relief making me weak.He’s okay.I’d thought…
Through the shadows, I saw that he sat on the other side of the room, bare-chested, his back pressed against the wall with his legs bent, elbows resting on his knees. His pants were torn to shit, covered in blood, the lighter color of his skin visible between the ripped seams.
Those last moments in the truck bombarded my brain, my breath leaving my lips with each new memory. We’d been hit. They shot at us. The image of Landon’s broken body seared my eyeballs. He’d been bleeding, near death. He shouldn’t be alive and sitting ten feet from me using a calm tone.
I’d been hurt too—pain in my shoulder, blood on my face. I reached up and felt silk beneath my fingers. A scrap of Landon’s shirt was wrapped around my arm. It ached like a motherfucker, congruent of a recent injury, while Landon appeared as though he’d been fully healed for days.The wound on his arm.The one I’d helped Alina stitch up…I couldn’t see it.What is going on?
“You had some metal and glass in your shoulder,” he said, voice even. “I took the shards out and bandaged it. You also had a head wound. It seems to have stopped bleeding now.”
His assessment of my injuries distracted me from his. Why was he talking that way? Why was he way over there and not next to me? We’d gotten past the distance between us over the past day, hadn’t we? Why was he acting like a stranger again?
“Where are we?” My voice came out a croak.
“I was hoping you’d know.” His voice remained steady, like he measured his words. “Your brother brought us here on a plane.”
