Page 23 of Anton

More voices penetrated the fog of my mind.

“Not such a tough arse now,” one of the goons sneered.

“Yeah, some ex-forces he is. This fucker couldn’t fight his way out of a paper bag,” one of them jeered, their laughter cutting through the sluggish heaviness pressing on my mind.

Fury ignited inside me. “Not while I’m drugged to fuck,” I muttered, my words slurring as I forced them out. “But when I’m not, you’ll see what I can do.”

The guy on my right snorted. “You’ll get your chance to fight soon enough,” he said, an edge of malice in his voice.

Whoever these bastards were, I’d make them pay. As soon as my head cleared, as soon as I could focus—I’d kill every last one of them.

They dragged me forward, my feet barely skimming the ground. Where the fuck were they taking me? My mind was still scrambled, fragments of memory just out of reach.

I stumbled along, half-carried, but a flicker of awareness returned as we passed through a door. The cool, stale air inside gave way to a wall of oppressive heat. The sun beat down, unrelenting, its glare forcing me to squint as the heat gnawed at my skin.

With a final shove, they forced me to my knees. Pain exploded through my legs as they slammed against the sunbaked ground. “Oof!” I grunted, pitching forward. Dry dirt met me as I twisted just enough to land hard on my shoulder instead of my face. The jolt reverberated through me, but I clenched my teeth, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing my pain.

Then, without warning, icy water blasted over me. A gasp tore from my chest as the freezing spray shocked me out of the haze. The chill cut through my clothes, soaking me to the bone and plastering fabric against my skin. The heat evaporated, replaced by a biting cold that brought everything back into sharp, brutal clarity.

Marcie.

A sickening fear crawled up my spine. The last thing I remembered was trying to get to Marcie. Where was she?

Several masked men surrounded me. What had they done to her? If they had hurt her, I’d fucking kill them.

“Where’s Marcie?” I demanded of the closest, my voice rasping from my dry throat. Bloody hell, I wished I’d swallowed some of that water.

The guy sniggered. “Shut it!” he snapped, backhanding me. My head whipped to the side as blood sprayed from my split lip, and I grunted. The sharp metallic tang filled my senses, and I spat thick, crimson saliva onto the ground.

Before I could react, a noise drew my attention to the dirt track ahead. An old-style jeep barrelled toward us, screeching to a halt and spraying dirt into the air.

I squeezed my eyes shut as grit scraped beneath my lids, the sting sharp enough to make me blink rapidly in an attempt to clear it.

The jeep door slammed, and another masked guy jumped out

“We need to get him to the starting point now,” he said, his voice clipped. “The boss is there, and you know she hates to be kept waiting.”

She?I barely had a second to process that, before a rough, scratchy hood was yanked over my head, cutting off my vision. More hands grabbed me and shoved me forward. I stumbled before being hurled into the back of a vehicle. My shoulders and ribs slammed against hard metal, sending fresh spasms of pain radiating through my side. The engine roared to life, and within seconds, we were bouncing along a rough, uneven trail.

Every bump, every jolt, felt like a punch to the gut, grinding my bones and sending waves of pain through my body. The stale air inside the hood clung to my face, each breath thick with fabric and dust, making it hard to draw a full breath. The terrain was unforgiving, and with each violent sway, my wrists strained painfully against the bindings behind my back, my shoulders protesting as I fought to stay steady against the walls of the vehicle.

After what felt like miles, the vehicle screeched to a halt. Rough hands latched onto my arms, dragging me out and shoving me to my knees. Gravel and grit bit into my skin through the thin fabric of my trousers. The earth beneath me was damp, and I strained to make sense of what was happening. Murmurs and footsteps shuffled around me, but the hood remained tight over my head, blocking all but muffled sounds and vague movements in the darkness.

Eventually, the hood was yanked away, and blinding light assaulted my eyes. I squinted, blinking hard against the harsh glare until my vision began to clear. Then it hit me, a familiar sensation that set every nerve on edge and made my heart hammer in my chest. She was here. Marcie.

My head jerked up just as she was dragged into view. She stumbled, pulled along by a big burly guy. Dirt and dust smearedher clothes, her hair was a tangled mess, but otherwise she looked okay. Relief surged through me so fiercely it was nearly painful—she was dishevelled, but at least she was alive.

Marcie struggled, wrenching against the guy’s grip, her jaw clenched in defiance. Her captor grunted in frustration, gripping her tighter as she thrashed and clawed, until finally, he wrapped his arm around her, pinning her back against his chest. His hand slid up to her throat, pressing just hard enough to make her struggle to breathe, but she didn’t back down. A flicker of that fierce, cheeky defiance lit up her face, and even though her lip trembled, she spat out, “You’ll regret laying a finger on me, you sick freak.”

I couldn’t help the slight smile that tugged at my lips. My Marcie—fearless even in the face of monsters.

The man holding her sneered. “Bitch, if we weren’t running late, I’d take you back inside and make you pay for that remark. But that’ll have to wait. I’ll have all the time I need to break you later, and when I do, you’ll be begging for mercy.”

Marcie grimaced, shivering in disgust as he leaned in closer. He chuckled, pressing his hips into her bottom in a twisted display of control. “When I finally get you under me, you’re going to scream,” he taunted, tightening his grip on her throat until her breaths came in shallow gasps. Then, with a sick, twisted smile, he dragged his tongue along her cheek, savouring her fear.

That fucker!

Little Miss Sassy hadn’t noticed me yet, too focused on struggling with the pervert. I clenched my fists, trying to push myself up, but hands clamped down on my shoulders, forcing me to stay still. Rage and helplessness coiled inside me, tight as a spring ready to snap.

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