God, my head… That was the first thing that came to my mind as I came to. I struggled to open my eyes, my vision blurry and fading in and out. I groaned, my head throbbing heavily with pain. I tried to rub my forehead, where the pain was at its greatest, but I couldn't—my hands were bound together and secured to the handlebar in front of me. The bastards must have knocked me out as soon as I sat down. I should have been more careful.
Although my vision wasn't the clearest, I could tell that some light was present—I could barely make out the crags and indents of the rocky walls around us. I grunted and wriggled in my seat, trying to free myself from the bindings.
"Now, Lara," said the woman in her thick Spanish accent. I turned my head slowly to the left, my aching neck making any sort of motion difficult, and saw Rosa sitting two seats away from me beside one of her mercenaries who was driving the transport. "You would be wise not to try and escape. It wouldn't end well for you."
"Go to hell," I spat through a bloodied mouth, but just as I finished speaking, the butt of a rifle rammed the back of my head. I let out of a loud groan, wincing from the pain, mentally cursing my inability to fight back.
She chuckled smugly, her rose-red lips curling over her teeth; she seemed to take pleasure in my helplessness. "It would appear we've already reached that destination, wouldn't it?"
Her men did a real number on me, but I must have put up a good fight—a simple blow to the head wouldn't have left me this battered. I tried, unsuccessfully, to blow my fringe out of my face. I lowered my head, trying to think of how the hell I was going to get out of this situation.
The transport bumped and rocked as it traversed along the rocky path. We were still inside the cavernous tunnels, but I assumed we must have been getting close to reentering the main portion of the temple: vases, pots, and Marabic lettering began appearing more frequently. The sound of ceramic pottery breaking echoed throughout the caverns as the transport ran them over without remorse.
My head shot up as I realized I had no idea where my partner in crime was. I hadn't heard him speak, so I thought perhaps he was just knocked out in the one of the rows of seats behind me. I strained, turning my neck as far as the pain would allow it, but there was no sign of him. "Where's—"
"Not here," Rosa interrupted, knowing what I was going to ask before I asked it. "And you won't see him again."
"What did you do to him?" I said threateningly. My lips curled upward, my eyebrows furrowed. If my hands weren't bound together, I'd have delivered Rosa's arse straight into the hands of Mara. "If you hurt him, I swear to god…!"
"Don't be stupid," she scoffed. "We haven't killed him—yet. Drake's a big boy. He can handle a few fists to the face."
"What's the point?" I questioned. I was fuming, wanting with every fiber of my being to kill these sons of bitches and find Nathan. He'd been in worse situations before, surely, but I couldn't help feeling like it was my fault we were separated.
"The point of what?" Rosa said, sounding uninterested.
"Taking us to… wherever you're taking us," I mumbled. "Why not just kill us now and get it over with?"
Rosa laughed softly, her black hair bouncing gently as the transport bumped over the rugged terrain. "You're not entirely useless. Once you help us locate the Jewel, then we kill you."
I squinted through strands of my fringe that dangled in front of my line of sight. "But you've got the journal," I said regretfully, loathing the fact that I'd lost possession of it. "What more could you possibly want from us?"
She snarled, her upper lip raising slightly. "We don't have that damned journal."
…What? I looked to my right to conceal the smirk that crawled across my face—a smirk that was growing into a smile. Nathan managed to hide the journal? I felt the slightest bit relieved, knowing that we still had a shot to beat these bastards. I didn't know how we'd escape this time, but we always did. We were still at a disadvantage, though, with me tied up and Nathan being god-knows-where.
"Then… you want what from us, exactly?" I asked again, though I knew exactly what her answer would be.
"Don't play stupid, girl," she snarled again. "You're the next best thing we have to that journal, and since we don't have it, you're going to help us find what we're looking for."
"What the hell makes you think I'd ever help the likes of you? Of Trinity?" I said coldly. "I've seen what you do. You'd stop at nothing to gain control of the world, even if it means killing innocent people or destroying remnants of history in the process. I'm an archaeologist—I don't destroy history. I preserve it."
Rosa laughed wickedly. I glared at her, wanting desperately to knock that red-lipped smile off her face. "You act like you have a choice in the matter," she said. "But the fact is, you don't have a choice. You either comply, or die. It's simple, actually."
I mulled it over for a moment. I didn't actually want to help Trinity, but she was right, I didn't have much choice in the matter in my current state. One misstep and I'd be tossed into the Gates of Doom. If I pretended like I might help them, perhaps they'd loosen their grip on me and I'd have a little playing room—a chance to regain the upper hand.
"Alright," I nodded. "I'll help you, but on one condition."
Rosa scoffed. "You know, Miss Croft, you're being terribly picky for a woman on the verge of death."
I ignored her comment. I was so sick of being called 'Miss Croft' like some sort of noblewoman. "Don't kill Nathan. Don't even touch him."
She narrowed her eyelids and pursed her lips. "Fine," she said, finally. "We won't lay a hand on him… for now. Not until the Jewel is in our possession. Then, after we release you both, we'll see if you survive. The choice is yours."
I smirked, thinking about all the times I'd narrowly escaped death, but still managed to be the last one standing—I had the scars to show for it. We'll see who survives when I'm through with you lot, I thought confidently.
"Hmpf," was all Rosa said before she pulled out her radio. She pressed the button and spoke into it, using various codenames and shortened words. She was signaling for the rest of her team to ease up on Nathan, and I could tell she was not happy about it in the slightest. "All right," she said sternly. "He's is in the clear—for now." She put up her hand, informing the driver to stop. "We'll rest here. Pitch the tent. We leave again at 05:00."
I sat, still tied tight to the handlebar, and watched as Rosa and her men got out of the transport to settle into their tents and sleeping bags. Rosa turned and smiled just before she retired to her tent and uttered, "sleep tight, Miss Croft. Don't let the bugs bite."
