Victoria felt her stomach turn over with worry as she heard the gunshots. She had been scouting out the back of the compound,
hunting for a back entrance. There was none, but the sound of fighting had drawn most of the guards away. It was difficult to resist the urge to rush to Malcolm’s aid, but she trusted him to handle himself. She had seen his martial skill on the plane, and she had no worries. Her mission was to find his daughter.
As she carefully approached the building, she saw that a door was left ajar. She slipped inside and glanced around cautiously. More cacophonous gunshots echoed in the air, each of them causing Victoria to flinch involuntarily. Shaking the feeling off, she walked through the compound, toward the south of the building.
The sight before her made her stop dead in her tracks.
Malcolm was being escorted in by three men. His strong face appeared to have been bashed in, and his nose was clearly broken from where she stood. Blood ran down his face profusely and Victoria felt overwhelming rage building up inside her chest.
A hand on her shoulder caused her head to snap toward the sensation. It was a guard who looked at her with stern authority. Victoria didn’t give him a chance to move before unleashing a harsh kick to his stomach. The man crumpled quickly, but another saw the struggle and rushed to the aid of his fellow soldier.
He swung at Victoria with a powerful right hook, but Victoria easily got out of the way. She was in a heightened sense of awareness. It appeared as if his fist was traveling in slow motion as she dodged and countered with several lightning-quick strikes to his face. The feeling of flesh compressing around her knuckles was exhilarating as she dispatched her trained assailant with little effort.
Free from a fight, she looked around, searching for Malcolm. She finally saw him sprawled out on the lawn, hundreds of feet away. She watched in horror as the three men approach the compound; they hadn’t spotted her yet. She could still attack them if she remained hidden. But could she free Malcolm? Her eyes glanced over to the two unconscious men, and a smile crossed her lips. Thank god for kickboxing, she thought quickly. Who knew it would come in this handy?
Malcolm was only a few dozen feet away when she felt her phone vibrating. She pulled it out of her pocket quickly and answered in a hushed voice.
“Get out, Victoria,” said the panicked voice of Dominic.
“But I can save him,” she said stubbornly, “he’s close!”
“That’s the problem!” Dominic explained, on the verge of hysterics. “I was able to tap into the guards’ communications and overheard them saying Brantford was going on his way. He just needed confirmation that Malcolm was in custody before flying in. Mal let himself get pinched on purpose! It’s part of his plan. Trust me! Get out, now!”
She took a deep breath, struggling with the news as she angrily hung up the phone. That motherfucking bastard! Victoria thought to herself bitterly. How dare he go and get himself captured! He better not die or I’ll kill him myself. She was tempted to save him out of spite, but she had far too much respect for the reckless asshole. The last bit of her fleeting urge to save the man she loved was dissipating. With great effort, she was able to shove aside her fear and anger to focus on the task at hand.
She would have to trust him. No matter how much she hated letting the enemy take him away from her, yet again. Just come back to me, Malcolm, she prayed as she exited the building. I’ll never forgive you if you don’t.
THE STEPS toward the huge house were difficult to take. Malcolm felt as if his feet were weighed down by a ball and chain. Tilting his head down, he kept his eyes on all of the other guards watching him getting escorted in. He hadn’t wanted it to happen this way, but it seemed like the best option given the circumstances.
He needed to kill Brantford. This was his best and possibly his only chance.
The guard dragging Malcolm forward paused as the radio on his hip went off. He stopped to listen and paused to respond in Spanish. Trepidation gripped at Malcolm’s stomach as he saw the guard’s smile turn upward into a twisted grin. He was worried for a moment that Victoria had also been captured, but he did not hear her name spoken.
The guard saw Malcolm watching him, and he spat on him. “I’ve never gotten to beat on a billionaire before,” he said scornfully. “Too bad you don’t bleed money. I guess you’re just as mortal as the rest of us.”
Malcolm wrinkled his nose. There was no way he would allow his daughter to remain anywhere near this man for long. He seemed capable of anything. Malcolm needed to find an escape from this mess. His backup men weren’t going to be showing up to save his ass; it was all on him. The handcuffs limited his movement, and he knew it was better to stall instead of fight. His only hope was Victoria. With her cleverness and moxie, she could be worth more than an army. “Looks like this is the end of the line for me,” Malcolm said gloomily. “Can I at least see my daughter?”
The guard shook his head. “Absolutely not. That was the boss’s only other order besides keeping you breathing. You’re going into a hole where you’ll never see daylight again, you filthy dog. There will be plenty of fleas and rats to keep you company, and I’m sure you’ll feel right at home.”
Malcolm narrowed his eyes and fought his temptation to destroy the guard. With a gun to his head, however, he complied with the man’s demands. As long as he kept his calm, an opportunity would present itself.
“Then lead the way. I want this done with.”
The guard needed no more motivation, and viciously shoved Malcolm. Grunting, Malcolm stumbled forward further than he needed to, just out of fighting range. He didn’t want to anger the trigger-happy brute any more than needed for the moment. If Brantford was coming for him, intending to invoke the Blood Duel, it offered Malcolm a temporary level of protection; at least he wouldn’t be dead before Brantford put a knife through him. He just had to bide his time.
He was humiliatingly led through the halls of the home. Malcolm could at least appreciate some aspects of the life his daughter was living. He saw books and toys that had been left out from previous play sessions. It made him sad to think that he had missed all of this, but it only built his determination to make sure he never missed another day of her life.
A picture of her was resting on the fireplace. Malcolm saw her young face through blurry eyes, but he knew he was looking into the face of his angel. Time seemed to stop for the few seconds he could steal to stare at the picture; he seared every aspect of her face into his memory. The thought of this photo being all he ever got to see of her for the rest of his life tore at his heart. I won’t let you down, Claire, he thought to himself with determination. Daddy loves you. I’ll fight with everything I have so we can be together again.
They finally reached an elevator that seemed to lead down into a subbasement. Malcolm watched closely as the guard scanned his hand against a biometric scanner and then punched in a six digit code. He never let his gaze leave the fingers of the guard as the man pressed each number, and he committed each to memory. The trip was longer than he expected it to be and he wondered just how deep this rabbit hole went.
A few moments later, the doors opened with a small ding and Malcolm was shoved inside. The guard was right: there were no windows or doors save the elevator in this room. It was a pit. To add insult to injury, Malcolm noticed that Brantford had left a chew-toy and dog collar lying on the ground.
“Have fun licking your own ass, mutt,” the guard said with a sick smile.
“You won’t be seeing another living person for a while.”
He slammed the door, leaving Malcolm in complete darkness.
The pain began to burn in his chest, and Malcolm clenched his fists in disbelief. He could almost hear Brantford’s voice and mocking laughter inside his mind. But why would he choose to shove him into a pit like this?
Was he going to be tortured?
No. Worse.
Realization struck Malcolm like a ton of bricks. Brantford intended to keep him down here until the seventh day. Until he was so dehydrated and starved that there was no way he could fight back. He wouldn’t be able to overpower a guard and escape. He was going to be utterly alone until the very end. “I won’t let this be my fate,” he said resolutely. His mind raced to think of a solution.
Malcolm had pulled through with worst odds stacked against him in the past. There must be a way. There had to be a way. He knew that if he dug deep enough in his mind, he could find the solution.
Nothing came to him.
In desperation, Malcolm slammed his fists against the metal doors in frustration. “Victoria!” he shouted brokenly, knowing fully well that no one could hear him. He slumped against the wall in defeat. All he could do was hope against hope that the woman he loved was safe, and that unlike him, she had avoided getting captured. He had faith in her; he knew that even if he perished, she would carry his torch and finish his mission. She would find Claire. And maybe, someday, they could all be together. If only he could manage to survive, escape, and win.
But for now, all he could do was wait.
It was going to be a long six days.