Page 8 of Zain

Doing so would cost her another hit—or worse. He wanted to scare her. This was nothing more than an intimidation tactic. She had to hold out.

His hand disappeared beneath the cloth he was swathed in, and then he produced a blade. Ashudder rippled over Dana. She pressed her trembling lips into a firm line and swallowed.

He was going to kill her.

Cool metal stroked her cheek. “Too pretty,” he growled. “You want me to want you, yes? You want to be used.”

Her breath wheezed from her lips, the sound raspy.

“Look at me.”

Dana swallowed. Her face throbbed from the last time she’d done just that. He pressed the blade against her cheek and her skin threatened to split. She cut her gaze to his. He hovered inches from her face, so close she could headbutt him.

The urge to fight, to use her training, almost overpowered her.

He pulled the knife from her face, and a little gasp of relief left her body. He brought the metal tip to hover at her abdomen. “If you scream, I will cut you from center to teeth.”

Cold waves crashed against her.

His hand locked around her throat, and he pushed her to the ground. The unrelenting slab of rock dug into her back as Rakesh pulled at her clothing. Terror as sharp as nails hammered her spine. “No,” she wheezed, shoving at his hands.

There was no one to help her.

Calling out would only bring more men to her cell.

“Do not speak to me!”

Wham!

His backhanded slap hit her lips. The tinny taste of blood touched her mouth. He worked feverishly to pull up her long dress, and his hand sunk beneath the waistband of her trousers.

Panic assaulted her senses. “No!” she cried. Using her bound hands like a club, she swung at his face.

Rakesh staggered to the side, and the knife slipped from his fingers. Dana catapulted to her feet, but the chain securing her to the wall didn’t let her go far.

Rakesh’s brown eyes glowered at her. He wiped his mouth and stood. Words spat from his snarly lips. She was sure he was calling her hideous names.

“Please.” She pressed her back against the wall as he closed in on her personal space. “Just kill me.” Oh god. She was begging for death. It didn’t take a psychic to know he wouldn’t carry out her wishes.

“I will, whore. Once I’m done with you.”

Creak

Rakesh stiffened and turned to face the door. “Farid.”

All the air left Dana’s lungs as Zain entered the room, swinging the door shut behind him. Her brain worked at the speed of light. Farid?

Zain spoke in Pashto, words flying from his mouth like stones, firm and authoritative.

Rakesh seized her throat again, towing her to stand next to him. “She is mine,” he said, in English. “Find your own whore.”

Dana’s chest screamed for air, but she wouldn’t risk taking a breath. Wouldn’t move.

Zain came closer. “I said, leave.”

Rakesh’s face hardened. He shoved Dana away and she stumbled backward, catching herself on the wall. He held up the knife again, this time pointing it toward Zain. Before, she’d been too close to see the dagger’s ten-inch jagged length. Her blood turned cold.

“Don’t be a fool,” Rakesh said. “You can have your turn.”

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