Page 37 of Entangled
“Oh, my goodness!”
“Right. I knew the area was rigged with explosives, and my battalion was formulating a plan of attack. The last thing I wanted was to see this little boy caught in the crossfire. I called him over to me—literally lured him with a melted candy bar like a fucking predator—and moved him to a more secure location. Once I was sure he was safe, I got back to my mission.”
Rowan gnaws her lower lip. “Please tell me hestayedsafe.”
“He did. Or at least I think he did.” I shrug, hoping the latter is true. “I didn’t have time to worry about him.”
“Why not?”
“I was…intercepted by hostiles.” My insides seize up, but I draw a steadying breath. I’ve told my story before. Not often, but the words have left my lips. I can do it again. I think. “Ambushed is a better word for it. There were five of them. I didn’t have time to react.”
“Couldn’t you fight back?”
There’s the million-dollar question. I have always thought of myself as strong, so it kills me to admit I was powerless that day. Even though they got the upper hand by playing dirty.
“Maybe if they hadn’t shot a paralytic into my neck.”
“Wait.” She clutches my shoulders, her beautiful face twisted into a mask of horror. “Theydruggedyou?”
“Yep. Can’t fight back if you can’t move.”
“Why didn’t they just kill you?”
Most days I wish they had. I’ve spent years wishing I’d suffered a quick death instead of the shit I endured. I’d take a hundred bullets before reliving that nightmare. Except, thanks to PTSD, I get to revisit my darkest days on a nightly basis.
“Henry?” she whispers after silence stretches between us.
“I was more valuable to them alive because I had something they wanted.”
18
ROWAN
Mood Music: “Surrounded” by Chantal Kreviazuk
The haunted lookin Henry’s eyes is a punch to my gut. I feel like a horrible person for making him tell me what happened to him. I should’ve left it alone, but I had to let my curiosity get the better of me.
I touch his cheek. “You don’t have to tell me the rest.”
“But I need you to understand why I am the way I am.”
“Not if it stresses you out, I don’t.”
He gestures to the broken furniture. “Thatwas me stressed out. I’m fine now.” His deep brown eyes meet my gaze once more. “Anyway, I woke up in a dark room, tied to a chair. They knew I was a scout—which meant I had the intel they wanted. They beat the shit out of me, trying to get me to talk. When that didn’t work, they resorted to more gruesome measures. I’ll spare you the details, but their leader was handy with a knife. I went through two days of hell. Then they left me for dead. My battalion eventually located me, and I woke up in a hospital bed at Walter Reed in Maryland.”
Tears blur my eyes as I hug him tighter. “I’m so sorry you went through that.”
“You know what the worst part is?” He doesn’t wait for my response. “I wake up with sleep paralysis and literally can’t fucking move. The waking hallucinations are so goddamn vivid I can’t rationalize my way out. Suddenly I’m right back in that sweltering room at the mercy of those monsters.”
My heart breaks for him. I can’t fathom his fear and pain, and I’ll do anything to make him forget. Several minutes pass while we hold each other in silence. I keep stroking his back and running my fingers through his hair, desperate to soothe him. Slowly, he relaxes and leans into my touch.
Then it suddenly dawns on me that he has to work in a few hours. It’s already two o’clock. He’s going to be exhausted.
“Come upstairs with me. You need some sleep. I’ll deal with the mess in the morning.”
He shakes his head. “Nope. Not happening. I’m staying down here. You’ve seen what I’m capable of. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’m not worried about that.”
