He’s wrong.
I grit my teeth, keeping my expression unreadable, though the pain lancing through my body is enough to drive most men insane. But they trained me for this. SEAL training didn’t just prepare me for combat—it prepared me to die with dignity.
And yet, when I let my mind drift for even a second, it doesn’t go to my fallen teammates, or the mission gone to hell.
It goes to her.
Cherise.
I close my eyes, inhaling the scent of salt air that isn't there. My mind conjures up the memory as if it were yesterday—the warmth of the California sun, the way the waves rocked the sailboat, and how fucking beautiful she looked under the setting sun.
She was laughing, her green eyes bright with mischief as she leaned over the rail, letting the wind whip through her dark hair.
“Nick Ryeland, are you drunk?” she had teased, watching as I fumbled with the small velvet box in my pocket.
“Not yet.” My voice had been steady, but my pulse had raced with something foreign, something terrifying and exhilarating all at once. “But I might be in a few minutes, depending on how this goes.”
Her smile faltered slightly, realization creeping into her expression. “What are you...”
I’d dropped to one knee right there on the deck, the movement making the boat sway slightly. Her breath hitched as she looked down at me, her hands trembling at her sides.
“You drive me insane,” I had admitted, my lips tugging at the corner in a way I knew made her crazy. “You argue with me about everything. You hate when I take control. And you have this frustrating habit of always being right.”
She had laughed, but there were tears in her eyes.
I’d flipped open the small box, revealing the diamond ring I’d spent months agonizing over. “But I love you, and I don’t want to spend another second of my life without knowing you’re mine. Marry me, Cherise.”
She had stared at me, completely still, the ocean air whipping around us as if time itself had stopped.
Then, without warning, she had launched herself at me, sending us both sprawling onto the deck.
“Yes,” she had whispered, her lips pressing against mine. “Yes, you overbearing, insufferable man. I’ll marry you.”
I had slid the ring onto her finger, watching as it caught the last rays of the dying sun, and thought—for the first time in my life—that I had everything I could ever want.
But I never made it down the aisle. Now, trapped in this godforsaken hellhole, I realize I never will.
He drags the blade up, pressing just enough to let me feel the sharp bite of steel. “Tell me what I want to know, and I will make your death quick.”
I chuckle, a rough, broken sound. “I’d rather you work for it.”
His eyes darken, his grip tightening. I brace myself for the pain, for the last cut that will end this, but then… the world explodes.
Gunfire erupts from the jungle outside, rapid and merciless. The crack of automatic weapons cuts through the humid air, followed by the distant roar of an engine—a chopper.
The man's head jerks up, his expression flickering with panic. Another burst of gunfire rips through the night, and then the whole goddamn roof shakes as a deafening blast detonates just outside.
I don’t hesitate.
With the last reserve of strength I have left, I lurch forward, catching the man off guard. My legs are weak, my body screaming in protest, but I grit through it. I twist my hands, ignoring the pain as the rope slices into my skin, and hook my boot around his ankle.
He stumbles, and in that half-second, I strike.
I slam my bound hands against his throat, crushing his windpipe with the sheer force of my body weight. He gurgles, his knife clattering to the ground as he claws at his throat. I kick him hard in the ribs, sending him sprawling, and snatch the blade from the dirt.
Even though my hands are still tied, it doesn’t matter.
I drive the knife into his neck.