Page 20 of The Immortal's One
I will escape—I have to.
"We need to leave," Ace mutters, his voice clipped. "We're late."
The three men nod in unison, like some grotesque mirror image. Sid steps forward, his hands rough and unfeeling as he grabs my arm. Ace finally lets go of my neck, his grip shifting to my other arm.
I yank away, but the movement sends a fresh wave of agony tearing through my body. I bite down on the rag in my mouth, releasing a muffled cry. The pain in my side is unbearable. The kick earlier…it cracked my ribs. At least, I hope they’re cracked and not broken.
I close my eyes and focus on breathing, trying to block out the pain piercing me from every angle. But it’s a losing battle. The men drag me away from the street, my feet scraping uselessly against the ground as they jostle my various injuries, my body like a ragdoll in their hands.
Adrenaline starts to fade, and with it, my strength to fight. The bone-deep urge to give in, to let the darkness take over, grows stronger with each passing second.
Without warning, I’m unceremoniously thrown over someone’s shoulder. Not even the rag in my mouth can silence the shriek I release.
“Careful, Sid!” Ace hisses. “There’s going to be hell to pay if we damage her anymore.”
“Sorry, man.”
I wonder who the hell hired these men and why it sounds like I'm their intended target when the pain becomes too much. My body goes limp. My head and arms hang like dead weight.
Every bump and jostle sends fresh waves of agony through me. My chin bounces against the man’s sweaty back. Stale smoke wafts off his shirt, the stench of his habit acting like smelling salts from Regency novels.
But I don’t know how much longer I can hold on.
Terror tightens my throat at what might happen to me if I pass out.
A sharp, pain-filled shout slices through the air, yanking me back from the edge of unconsciousness.
“What the—” A second shout follows, but it’s abruptly silenced, choked off by a gurgling, wet sound.
The man carrying me curses and breaks into a frantic run, each jarring step aggravating my injuries, shoving me closer to oblivion.
With every ounce of strength I have left, I lift my head, trying to make sense of what’s happening around me.
Darkness creeps along the edges of my vision, narrowing my world to only what’s directly in front of me—a dark sedan with a cracked headlight. It doesn’t give me any answers, only a sense of growing dread.
Out of nowhere, a figure drops from above, crashing violently onto the hood of the car in a bloody heap.
If it weren’t for the rag stuffed in my mouth, I’d scream. But instead, I can only stare in horror.
“Fuck!” the man carrying me cries. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” He keeps running. The ache in my ribs intensifies. His breath is ragged, and his voice trembles with panic. “Ace? Joe? Where are you?”
There’s no answer.
My neck muscles give out, and my head falls forward. As my vision blurs, I see him reach into the back of his waistband and pull out a gun.
The jostling stops. The man grunts, then slings me roughly over his shoulder. I hit the ground with a hard thud, my body flopping awkwardly, but there’s an immediate sense of relief. The pain in my ribs is still there, but it’s muted now, a dull throb that pales in comparison to the brutal agony of being carried.
My eyelids flutter. It’s a battle to stay awake to see what happens next.
The man above me widens his stance and holds his gun out in a firm grip. This isn’t the first time he’s wielded the weapon. His head scans around us, searching for the mysterious threat.
Every muscle in my body screams in protest as I reach up, my fingers trembling, and pull the filthy rag from my mouth.
I gasp for air, my body weak, my lungs burning with each strained breath. The sharp, acrid scent of car exhaust and diesel stings my nostrils, but it’s a welcome relief compared to the suffocating cloth that had smothered me.
My chest heaves, and my ragged breaths catch my abductor's attention. His shifty eyes turn to me, his lips curling into a sneer when he spots the discarded rag. "What do you think you’re do?—"
Before he can finish, something shifts in the air.
