Page 92 of Fade (Fighting Fate)

Struggling to my feet, I began pacing the small space, trying to get movement and blood flow to every part of my body before dragging a small wooden box into the center of the room.

This was my daily ritual. It was the only thing that made me feel like I still had any control left. I started with box jumps, sit-ups and push-ups, then moved on to jumping jacks and burpees. Then I did it all again.

I was halfway through my third set and almost to the point of being physically sick when the sound of an outer door being opened pulled me to an abrupt halt. Panting, I stumbled back against the wall and waited, a slight twinge of anxiety filtering through my blood. Even though experience told me it was just the usual food and water delivery, I wasn’t about to let myself become complacent.

Keys jangled in the lock. I tensed, sweat trailing down my temple.

The first sign that told me I’d been right to be wary was the lack of a food tray in the guy’s hands. The next was the two guys behind him. With assault rifles.

Strengthening my stance, I eyed them defiantly. The one who opened the door stepped forward, a rush of Arabic spilling from his mouth, as if I could fucking understand him. In his hands was a coil of rope and a black cotton sack.

My pulse broke free of my restraints the second comprehension came to me.

“If you think I’m going to let you tie me up without a fucking fight, you’re delusional,” I growled.

The guy reached for my arm, but I blocked him with a swift swipe downwards before shoving him hard in the chest. My entire body tensed, ready to spring and beat the ever-loving shit out of him, but before I could unleash myself, I had the end of a rifle barrel thrust within a foot of my face.

I stared down at the face on the other end, his features contorted with rage as he screamed what I assumed were obscenities at me. Slowly, I moved back against the wall again, my mind still defiantly searching for a way to tell them all to get fucked.

Time was not on my side, though. The instant my back hit the wall, I was set upon. The asshole with the rope grabbed me and spun me so my face was pressed against the wall, the rough surface scratching at my cheek.

Resistance was automatic. This was the first time they’d manhandled me, and my instinct was telling me it wasn’t good. I needed to fight.

Cold, hard metal pressed against my head, and the bastard with the rifle started shouting at me again. With teeth gritted hard, I forced my body to stop. My arms were yanked behind my back, and I felt the rope being wrapped around my wrists. A split second later, the sack was pulled over my head, and everything went black.

For the first time in my life, I finally understood what fear really meant.

I prayed that this wasn’t the end.

Chapter 49

Amy

Deployed time: 16 weeks

MIA: 6 weeks

From: Amy Benson [email protected]

To: Daniel Stephenson [email protected]

Date: Sat, Jul 30, 2016 at 2:46 PM

Subject: I love you so much

Daniel,

I didn’t know missing someone could hurt so much. I feel like huge pieces of my soul are missing from me. It hurts to breathe. It’s been too many days since you’ve gone missing. It scares me so much. Please be okay. Please come home to me. I love you.

Amy xx

Silence filled the room, the air strained with an uncomfortable, stifling energy.

Infinitesimally, I shifted on the couch, trying to ease the slight ache in my lower back, while keeping my gaze determinedly on the coffee table in front of me.

Long moments passed, the silence becoming even more pronounced. It scratched at me, calling a need to use my other senses to compensate.

In my peripheral vision, Ryan sat across from me, one leg bent, his foot resting on his other knee as it occasionally bounced. I didn’t need to look to know he was staring at me. I could feel it like little pins prickling my skin.

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