Page 89 of Fade (Fighting Fate)

Darkness.

That’s all I knew.

I had no idea where I was, or what day it was.

It had been some time now since I’d stopped wondering if my team members were somewhere close by, looking for me. I knew the chances of them still being in Raqqa were almost non-existent. I just hoped they’d all made it out okay.

Shifting on the hard concrete floor, I let out a hiss as pain ripped through my left shoulder, a lingering reminder of the dislocation I’d discovered when I’d first woken. I’d managed to put it back in, but it had taken an enormous amount of willpower to do it. That shit fucking hurt.

I’d passed out again not long after that, and when I woke again, I was lying on some kind of blanket I didn’t remember seeing before.

Unease had lingered in the pit of my stomach from that moment on. I wanted to know where the fuck I was, and who the fuck had put me there. Common sense told me it was most likely not friendlies. The locked door suggested the same. But hope was ever present.

The first time I’d heard sounds of someone approaching, I’d prepared myself for the worst. It had almost made me physically sick, but in that moment, I’d said my goodbyes to Amy and the little life we’d created together, praying they both knew just how much I loved them.

But instead of a sadistic fighter coming through the door, like I’d expected, I faced a small man in a white robe, who appeared neither hostile nor friendly. As he’d stepped inside the small, darkened room, he’d watched me with deeply wary eyes. Then, with slow movements, he’d placed a tray of food and water on the ground beside the door and left.

I’d kicked myself when he quickly slipped back through the doorway again and closed it behind him. I’d been so caught up in needing to protect myself from an enemy attack, I didn’t give myself the chance to consider what I might need to do if one didn’t come.

As I stood against the wall, listening to the sounds of movement on the other side, I tried to be more prepared. The second the man appeared, I stepped forward.

I met his gaze with determination. “Where am I?”

His eyes narrowed with caution, his hands tightening on the tray he was holding to his stomach.

I tried again. “Who are you?”

The rush of Arabic that followed confused me. I shook my head. “I don’t understand. Do you speak English?”

A flicker of clarity sparked in his eyes before he shook his head, more Arabic flowing in explanation.

Frustration made me take a small step forward. “I need to get out of here,” I said, pointing to myself before pointing out the door. “Can you help me?”

The man’s eyes na

rrowed, leading me to believe he wasn’t happy with my request. He shook his head and barked out something in a sharp tone.

I watched him for several moments, trying to determine his role in my situation, before deciding it didn’t matter. The only way I was going to find out if he was an enemy or friend, was to try to leave.

Striding for the door, I tried to mold my expression into one of someone not to be messed with, but the man was quick to block the door, a flurry of harsh Arabic exploding from his mouth. His body language was definitely not friendly.

I considered pushing past him. He was only small, and I knew I could most probably overpower him, but before I could decide if that was a good idea, another man appeared beyond the door, the rifle in his hand making the words I couldn’t understand suddenly very clear.

Something that resembled panic started pumping through my veins. “Who are you?” I demanded again, anger seeping through my voice. “Why are you holding me? Am I a prisoner?”

The man barked at me again and bent to drop the tray on the floor. Straightening, he pointed at me and waved his hands up and down, while spouting more incomprehensible words. Then he stepped through the threshold and slammed the door shut.

Clenching my fists at my sides, I tried to make sense of what just happened. I had no idea if they were preventing me from leaving to keep me safe or as an enemy. My frustration levels jumped up a few more notches. I hated that my only consolation was the fact that I wasn’t wearing an orange suit. Yet.

Sinking back down on the dirty blanket, I rested my head back against the wall and sighed, then I let my mind drift to the only thing that would make this tolerable. Amy. Thinking of her and the baby was the only thing that would get me through these long, dark minutes of solitude. I just hoped I would get the chance to see her again.

Chapter 47

Amy

Deployed time: 11 weeks

MIA: 1 week

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