Oscar
The first thing I noticed was the pain. Slowly I came to, disoriented with a pounding headache. I’d been hit over the head before, but this time it was compounded by the excruciating agony racing through my arms and shoulders. My hands were tied over my head, pulling my shoulders slightly out of their sockets; my feet didn’t touch the floor, just the tips of my toes. And I wasn’t wearing all of my clothes.
I peeled my eyes open and glanced down at my body. I was hanging there only in my jeans, my chest and feet bare. Wherever I was, it was freezing.
“Ah, I see you’ve finally woken. Nice to have you with the land of the living, Oscar.”
I raised my head to peer into the evil eyes of Santos Casas, The Saint.
“I wish I could say it’s nice to see you, but I’m not one for lying.”
Santos laughed, the sound akin to something out of a horror movie. His chest was bare, covered in tattoos from his neck to the waistband of his pants, his bald head shining under the fluorescent lights in the sterile room. There were no windows, no natural light coming in, and the place was blinding, it was so white.
“Where the hell am I?”
“Just one of our more discreet properties that we own around the area. This one is our most remote, however.”
“Discreet?”
“Yes; it’s one of three underground bunkers we own to conduct our more costly experiments.”
When the bad guy starts revealing his secrets, that was a good sign I wasn’t making it out of the situation alive. Of course, the cozy accommodations weren’t exactly giving off the get-out-of-jail-free vibe either.
“So, why didn’t you move Ivy there last time when you realized how valuable she was to you?”
“We were working on transport, but your team intercepted us before we could move her. Bad timing on our part.”
If they’d moved Ivy to this location earlier, we would never have found her or Cami.
“Mind letting me down from here? These ropes are a real drag on the arms.”
Santos smiled. “You’re a funny guy, aren’t you? Let’s see how funny you think you are when I’m done with you.”
That sounded pretty terrible, and it was. Santos let loose on me with enough pent-up aggression to last him a few decades. I was guessing he was spoiling for a fight. Only, I wasn’t able to fight back.
Each blow had me swinging dangerously from my hands, my feet scrambling for some sort of purchase to keep the weight off my joints, but it was no use. Santos used me like a heavy bag dangling from the rafters. When he was done with the first round, I knew I was in bad shape; my eyes were puffy and swollen almost shut, my lip was cut and bleeding profusely, the taste of my blood filling my mouth, and I was definitely worried about my ribs. Not to mention, I was certain one of my shoulders had dislocated. The simple act of hanging there felt like my arm was being ripped off.
It didn’t take long before I passed out, welcoming the bliss of unconsciousness.
When I came around, The Vicar was sitting in a chair in front of me, appearing to calmly wait until I came to. I tried opening my eyes, but the swelling was so bad, I was staring out of slits. He was dressed in a cobalt-blue suit, a pristine white shirt underneath and black studded cufflinks at his wrists. The man had a unique style, very suave, that hid a monster underneath.
“Mr. Cortada, I apologize I wasn’t able to properly welcome you to my home.”
“Your home?”
“It’s not exactly the mansion I own back in Venezuela, but it was quite expensive. Really difficult to find homes entirely underground these days.”
“Yeah, it’s a real bummer.”
The Vicar chuckled and stood, pacing in front of me. I waited for him to talk, not knowing why he was there. But since he was, I figured he had something he wanted to say or some information he wanted from me. Since I wasn’t keen on cooperating with terrorists, I doubted this would end well. The pain in my arm was blinding, and I was already struggling to stay lucid. Finding a way out of this hell would be even more difficult if I couldn’t stay conscious.
A door opened and closed behind me, and I heard the footfalls of two people. Santos was still shirtless, his grotesque tattoos on full display. Tattoos I’d just seen up close and personal. Angels on one side and demons on the other. Dark and light. Evil and good. Fitting for a man they called The Saint.
The other man was dressed in all black—black suit pants, a black silk shirt, shiny black shoes, and slicked-back, black hair. Angel Rubio looked like a cast member off the series The Mayans rather than the Angel moniker he bore.
“The entire trinity is here. The Prophet, The Saint, and The Angel of Death.” My words came out a bit slurred, but the snide tone was still evident.
The Vicar stopped pacing and lifted a brow, a smile breaking his handsome face. I’d have given anything to personally knock it off.
“The Trinity. That’s funny. I have often thought of ourselves as such, but it’s good to know we’ve acquired a godlike status in others’ minds as well.”
“There is nothing godlike about you. Demonic? Sure. But there is absolutely nothing similar to you and a benevolent deity.”
“Nonsense. Even the God of the Old Testament used plagues to wipe out unrepentant nations. It’s only fitting his messenger would do the same.”
“You’re no messenger of the most High. You’re a terrorist, and you’ll be treated as such when they catch you.”
The Vicar chuckled softly. “Yes, well, no one will be catching me anytime soon. You see, I’ve worked very hard to cover my tracks and make it entirely impossible for my plans to be thwarted. And you and your team will be unsuccessful in stopping me.”
“You don’t know my team.”
“Ah, but I do. I’ve spent the last few months getting to know the players. Cade and Piper are expecting a baby, aren’t they? Wouldn’t it be terrible if something were to happen to Piper and the baby before it’s born?”
“You leave them alone.” I yanked on the chains, and piercing agony shot down my arm. I cried out, unable to help myself, and caught Santos’s grin of delight. The man was a sadist.
“And then there’s Lydia and Cruz. She works long hours at the clinic, unprotected. So easy to just slip in and slit her throat right there for Cruz to discover when she doesn’t make it home on time.”
I wanted to claw his eyes out. These were my friends he was talking about, and although I knew he was baiting me, there was little I could do to prevent my reaction.
“Of course, Ryder and Jolie. They were quite resilient against Ryder’s Russian enemies. And Jolie, what a beautiful delight in such a tiny package. I quite liked her. Wouldn’t mind having her as a companion for myself. Of course, we’ll have to do something about that husband of hers. I don’t share.”
“I’m warning you, Vicario. You are skating on thin ice.”
He laughed, amused at my outburst—and I guessed, by his standard, it seemed pretty silly for a trussed-up prisoner to be making idle threats. But I would get out of this alive. And when I did, I planned to make him pay.
“But you see, Oscar. That is where you are wrong. I have the upper hand here. As soon as your lovely wife Ivy comes to me—and she will come to me if she wants to save your life—I will have all I need to complete the antidote and have my revenge on the country that took everything from me.”
“You’re talking about killing innocent people. People who had nothing to do with taking anything from you.”
“In not doing anything to avenge me, the whole of America is to blame. Your love of capitalism and free enterprise. Your court systems that cower to power and money. The air of supremacy and superiority that is breathed in and out in this country—it will be your undoing. You think you’re too important, too elite, to ever be susceptible to any outside threats. I plan to prove you wrong.”
“You won’t succeed. We will stop you.”
“You can try. And you’ll die trying. I’ve lost too much to back down now. I will have my revenge. No matter what. Let me ask you, Oscar. What would you do to the people responsible for killing someone you love?”
Without thinking, I answered without hesitation. “I’d skin them alive.”
The Vicar laughed as if I’d just told the funniest joke. “Yes! Exactly!”
Realizing my mistake, I backtracked. “I’d make the people responsible pay. Not their country or citizens. Killing innocent people doesn’t avenge your loved one.”
“The only true atonement is that of the whole. Punishing the perpetrators won’t work if the entire system is responsible for what happened. Your country will learn a very valuable lesson. One they won’t soon forget—or recover from.”
“You won’t get away with it. Our government won’t allow it. They will hunt you down like the dog you are and put you out of your misery.”
Vicario stepped closer, his face inches from mine.
“We shall see, now, won’t we?” He grinned and took a step back. “Now, if you’d be so kind as to inform me as to whom you work for. I know that Shadow Force is an undercover agency, the MMA gym a façade, but what I don’t know is who gives you your marching orders and pays your exorbitant salaries.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The Vicar sighed and shook his head, as if my answer pained him. “I was afraid you’d say that. But I’d like to give you another moment to consider your answer.”
He could give me all the moments he wanted, but I wouldn’t rat out my team. If I didn’t make it out of this alive, they were the ones who would keep Ivy and Cami safe. I had to protect them, even if it meant my death.
“No? Such a shame.” Vicario gave a quick nod to Santos, who cracked his knuckles before he walked closer. I groaned inwardly.
This is going to hurt.
That was the last thought I had before I leaped headfirst into the land of darkness.
***
The torment was endless. My arms were killing me—although, as I started to move around, it was clear they were no longer suspended above my head. I was lying on a cement floor, the cold seeping through to my bones, still dressed only in my jeans. I tried to sit up, but my head spun, so I relaxed a moment to try and assess my injuries.
My arm was useless, hanging at my side like a dead leaf clinging to the tree at the start of winter. Dislocated shoulder, no doubt. The rattling in my chest wasn’t encouraging. I had a feeling my rib had punctured a lung, which meant if it was collapsed, I didn’t have long before I’d be in serious danger of not walking out of there. The pressure was like an elephant sitting on my chest, difficult to inhale. And the agonizing torture of just breathing in and out was enough to make me long for unconsciousness again.
The room was bare, white, cold. Nothing but a bucket in the corner, which I assumed they’d put there for me to relieve myself. Not even a cot or a blanket was to be found. So much for hospitality.
I wasn’t sure how long I’d been out, since there were no windows to the outside world. It felt like an eternity in many ways, and the way the injuries had begun to settle in my body, I had a feeling it had been several hours. Santos had either grown tired of beating me, or it had lost its fun when I’d passed out. Probably the latter.
A knock sounded at the door, before a woman with jet-black hair and pale skin entered, closing it softly behind her. She had a black bag and knelt beside me on the floor. I met her gaze, staring into the most unique eyes I’d ever seen. One brown, one blue.
“How are you feeling?” She kept her voice low, almost a whisper, and I followed her example.
“Like death warmed over.”
Her lips quirked as if she’d considered smiling, but when she took out a stethoscope and listened to my chest, it quickly faded.
“You have a collapsed lung. I need to fix it.” Her eyes were compassionate. “It’s not going to feel good.”
“At this point, I’m not sure there is anything that you could do to me that would make this any worse.”
I tried to smile at her, but the wheezing in my chest turned into a violent cough. When I removed my hand, there were flecks of blood spattered on it. Great. Just great.
The woman’s eyes saw the blood, and she went back to her bag, digging around urgently. She lightly touched my shoulder. “Lie back. Take a deep breath and try to relax.”
I did as she asked, but relaxing was out of the question. Instead, I closed my eyes and thought about Ivy. She loved me, had agreed to give our marriage another go. I’d just had everything I’d wanted for the last eleven years right in my grasp, and it was torn away from me. Again.
I imagined her on our wedding day, beautiful in her white dress, her mother walking her down the aisle. I recalled the pictures she’d sent of herself growing round with Zachary in her belly.
The pressure was unbearable, my breaths jagged and shallow as I tried to keep hold of those images of Ivy and tune out the torturous spasms in my chest. I turned panicked eyes to the woman, who placed a hand on my chest, giving me a reassuring smile. She was like an angel, sent to me in my time of need. Perhaps that was it. Maybe I was dying, and this woman was a heavenly being. She was beautiful, stunningly gorgeous—and yet, I preferred Ivy’s golden-brown hair and hazel-sea-green eyes.
“Ivy.” I managed to get the word out as the woman worked with instruments at my side. Her gaze jerked to mine as I said her name.
“You know Ivy?”
I nodded. “She’s my wife. Tell her…” I coughed, the torment shooting through my body like nothing I’d ever experienced. “Tell her I love her.”
I closed my eyes as something cold and wet touched my ribs. A sharp, blinding pain pierced my side, and my eyes shot open. The sharp prick was immediately followed by relief of the pressure in my chest. The woman smiled down at me. “Tell her yourself.”
She continued to work on me, even though I wasn’t sure what she was doing. I was growing more and more tired, ready to give in to the peace I felt in the darkness. I struggled to stay awake, feeling it important to find out all I could about the one ally I had in hell. “What do you do here?”
It took her several seconds before she answered, and I almost thought she wasn’t going to. “I’m a doctor.”
“You don’t seem like the kind of person to work for these demons.”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“Everyone has a choice.”
Tortured eyes turned to mine. “No, they don’t.”
I knew she was holding something back. Something important. She shook her head and then swept her gaze around the room. Finally, she said, “They’re holding someone close to me. I’m responsible for him. If I don’t help them, they will kill him.”
“Your boyfriend?”
She shook her head. “I’ve said more than I should. You need to get to a hospital.”
“Doesn’t look like that’s going to happen soon.”
She listened to my chest again. “Your lung needs attention. I’m afraid if you don’t get to the hospital soon, you may die.”
“I know.”
Resolution is a strange thing. I’d known the moment I’d been hit over the head in that alley that my chances of survival had plummeted. I wasn’t stupid. They were using me to get to Ivy. My only peace came from knowing that my brothers, my team, wouldn’t put her in harm’s way. They’d keep her safe. I could rest knowing that she was safe. That she wouldn’t suffer at the hands of these barbarians anymore.
The woman dug back into her bag and pulled out a syringe. She held it up to the light and tapped it. “Antibiotics. I’m hoping they’ll ward off any infection, but you need medical attention, as soon as possible.”
The door banged open, and The Angel walked in. He watched as the woman gave me the shot.
“What are you doing in here?”
“He might be of use to us. If you’re hell-bent on bringing Ivy back, it won’t help if he’s dead when she arrives.”
“Ivy? No! Leave her alone!”
The fierceness of my reaction sent agonizing fire throughout my chest and body. I tried to stand, but my head was fuzzy and my balance off. The woman touched my hand, trying to pull me back to the floor.
“I gave you something for pain before I relieved the pressure in your chest. It will help you to rest, but you’re going to feel pretty out of it for a while.”
“Why did you do that? They’re going to bring Ivy here. No. No. I have to help her. Have to keep her safe—” My head was spinning, the words coming out in spurts, not making much sense even to me in my addled state.
The woman leaned down, touching my arm lightly. “I’m so sorry.” Her beautiful mismatched eyes were filled with tears as she rushed out of the room leaving me with the Angel of Death.
“Relax, Oscar. Soon you’ll be reunited with your bride. For a little while anyway, before you have to say your goodbyes permanently. Angel crouched down by my side, his hands resting on his bent knees, his head dipped low. There was a look of pity on his face, and had I been in better shape, I would have knocked it off.
“Bastard! Leave her alone.”
“I’m afraid we can’t do that. She’s too important to our cause.”
“No. She must be safe—love her—”
I couldn’t focus anymore, the world spinning in circles, a low hum in my ears. Angel split into two and then three.
“Don’t worry. We’ll take good care of her.”
I reached out, trying to grab him, to make him promise me they wouldn’t hurt the woman I loved, but my strength was gone, the drugs too powerful in my weakened state. Finally, I gave in to the night that pressed in on me. My last thought only of Ivy and my love for her.