Author's Note: Oh my, you are all such sweet, wonderful folks. Thank you for your encouragement. Your reviews are wonderful lights in the dark corner of author panic. Thank you all for reading my tale. Onto the next chapter! I hope you enjoy it.
CHAPTER 3
The team was close, and security had grown heavier. After Adam's first attempt, guards had congregated around the targeted room, regularly sweeping surrounding halls and other areas. The faint patter of footsteps echoed from different directions, and the team readied themselves as they moved quickly and quietly.
While their arrival was clearly expected, they still had some element of surprise, and they planned to hold onto it as long as possible.
Preach and McG moved ahead, guns at the ready while Amir and Jaz hung back, keeping a close eye out for any unexpected danger.
Two uniformed men came from a side corridor, and Jaz and Amir were quick to pull the trigger before the men had the chance to raise alarm.
If everything went smoothly, this would be a breeze.
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Adam was starting to feel it deeply now. The blood loss left an overwhelming weakness behind. The pain pulsed through every limb and rib. And as the last of his adrenaline reserves burned away, the dizziness hit him full force. His head was starting to dip toward his chest, his eyes sliding to a reluctant close for a brief second.
His captor was circling again, wiping the knife as he went. While Adam listened to the man's quiet footsteps, he could feel every ache and pain with surprising clarity. His hand throbbed angrily while his ribs shifted and screamed with every breath. One forearm ached as cooling blood dripped over his skin. The red, macabre stripes on his other arm stung sharply, and hot tendrils of pain pulsed from the torn flesh of his upper thigh.
And just as Adam's blood was starting to settle, a white-hot pain jolted through his other leg.
He snapped his eyes open with a yell, gaze falling on the handle of the knife, buried just above his knee. The shock had sent a wave of movement through his form, reawakening dulling pains. In the wake of it all, Adam's body shook, engulfed in fire and hurt.
"Couldn't have you passing out just yet," the man explained, looking bored. Adam was huffing against the new agony, his ribs throbbing.
The man grabbed the handle of the knife and twisted, tearing another scream from Adam. It was getting harder to hold back. He was so tired.
But he'd fight on. He'd never give up.
His captor crouched down, hand still on the handle of the knife. At an agonizingly slow pace, he pulled the knife upward, the blade scraping against sliced and ragged nerves.
"Tell me," the man pressed. The knife continued to slowly slide from Adam's leg, sending a constant, sharp pain through his thigh. Adam's breathing was wild and shallow, hitching as he pushed through the new torture.
And still, Adam wouldn't say a word.
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Jaz stiffened at the muffled scream, hidden somewhere in the knot of corridors and storage rooms. Part of her wondered if it was just her imagination.
She looked at Amir, the two sharing fearful looks.
"Did you hear that?" he asked, his brow furrowed.
So it wasn't her imagination.
"Was that Top?" she whispered, glancing down the hallway. They'd managed to make it to the target room without incident, dropping any potential threats as they picked their way through the building. Preach and McG were already inside to retrieve the laptop.
Amir shook his head, peering down his half of the hallway. "I can't be sure."
Jaz hated to think that the pained yell could've been Adam, but what else could it be? She was growing impatient, her imagination running wild with what could have befallen their fearless leader. Amir shifted beside her, most likely thinking a similar vein of thought.
"Come on, come on, come on," Amir muttered under his breath, his frame tense with anxiety.
The sniper stayed silent, trying to push down her own unease.
McG quietly emerged from the doorway, Preach close behind. "Package secured," Preach reported, looking around. "Let's go get Top."
Amir and Jaz looked at each other, wordlessly communicating. The ex-spy took a deep breath and looked to Preach. "Jaz and I heard some kind of yell. We thought it could be Top."
McG's mouth pressed into a thin line as Preach's own expression pinched in worry.
"Lead the way."
Without hesitation, Jaz and Amir moved ahead, proceeding toward where they'd heard the noise. Preach and McG were close behind, following as calmly as they could manage.
They heard the low buzz of a voice ahead and stopped, sensing they were close. Sparing each other a brief glance, they pressed on, noiselessly approaching an open storage area.
Jaz couldn't stop the sharp inhale when she saw Adam.
The blood. The bruises. And the unnatural paleness to his skin.
Her eyes fell to the knife being slowly drawn from his leg, and a rage blazed through her body.
The torturer turned, his eyes widening at their presence. Alarmed, he pulled the knife completely free of Adam's leg, standing quickly.
Jaz aimed and fired.
It only took one shot.
The body fell sloppily to the floor, the bloody knife clattering across concrete.
The other two guards in the room turned quickly with their weapons at the ready. Preach and Amir didn't allow them a chance to fight back.
McG rushed forward as the other three swiftly scanned the area for other threats.
"Clear," Jaz announced in a rough voice. Her throat felt tight as she lowered her rifle, letting her eyes fall on Adam.
She was frozen in place, appraising the team leader carefully. He looked awful. Spent. Blood was dripping on the floor from both arms, and one of his hands was unmistakably broken. She winced as she traced the purpling blossoms on the back of his hand. Clearly, pain was the goal.
Preach was already cutting the zip ties around Adam's wrists and ankles, McG pulling piles of gauze from his kit. Amir had found Adam's discarded gear in the corner of the room and was stuffing what he could into his pack.
"We gotcha, Top," Preach muttered, gently removing the zip ties. Thin lines of bruising were already cutting into Adam's wrists, a testament of his fight against the restraints.
"Did you…did you get the package?" Adam asked wearily, his voice husky and torn. Jaz thought she heard his breath hitch, and a dark, angry cold seeped into her bones.
"Really, Top?" McG huffed, tearing open packets of gauze. "That's the first thing you ask?"
Adam's head dropped forward, his eyes heavy.
"Hey, Top," McG pressed, gently tapping Adam's face. "I know you're tired, man. But you've got to stay awake. We still have to get you out of here."
Adam sat up straighter in an attempt to stay alert, only to grunt in pain as he held his breath.
The medic caught on quickly. "What? What is it?"
Adam shook his head but stopped abruptly with a wince. "Ribs…jus' broken ribs."
Carefully lifting Adam's shirt, McG pressed his lips together. One side of Adam's rib cage was already covered in an impressive bloom of purple bruises. Jaz looked away, her own chest aching at the sight.
McG swallowed a curse, dropping the shirt and hastily pressing gauze against the bullet wound on Adam's thigh. Adam cried out in pain, gasping when his ribs shifted.
The medic swiftly handed Preach a few packets of gauze, his eyes roving over Adam's many injuries. Eager to help, Jaz moved forward, grabbing gauze on her own and moving to Adam's side. Amir did the same, quickly working on the deep stab wound on the team leader's forearm.
With her gaze falling to the deep lines of crimson in Adam's arm, Jaz ripped open one package. Three long lines ran from bicep to wrist, clean and precise. Nausea swirled in her gut as she briskly pressed gauze against his arm. A small sound of pain fell from Adam's lips with the pressure, and Jaz did her best to block it out.
Looking at his face, she could tell he was trying to stay strong. To prove that he was still in control. But, hell, he looked so exhausted, and every breath scraped his lungs with a shallow rasp. Jaz returned to her task, eyes tracing the thick red lines as she pulled out more gauze.
She swallowed thickly when she came to his wrist, spotting a glimpse of bone in the cut. Closing her eyes, she hurriedly hid the wound with fresh bandaging.
As the team worked, Adam occasionally let out a weak cry, his breath stuttering with every new bandage. Each grunt and gasp cut them all deeply, proving that Adam wasn't as invulnerable as they wanted to believe.
At least he was alive.
Finished with his own task, Amir moved to help Jaz secure the bandaging around Adam's arm. Adam was beginning to fade, his head down, his eyes closed.
McG patted his knee with an urgent quickness. "You still with me, Top?"
It took Adam a few seconds to answer, and the silence was suffocating. "…Yeah."
The medic took a deep breath, taking Adam's chin in one hand as he inspected the developing bruise against the team leader's cheekbone. Hell, no matter how many times McG did it, patching up teammates would always be one of the hardest things he ever had to do.
"Okay, Top. We're gonna have to get you up and out of that chair," McG muttered as Amir and Jaz secured the last of the bandaging. "On the count of three." He took a hold of Adam's uninjured bicep as he shifted positions. Preach quickly moved to Adam's other side, taking the team leader's good hand. "One, two…three."
Preach and McG pulled Adam up from the chair, tearing a harsh growl from the injured man's lungs. The sound grated on their ears as cold shivers burned down their backs.
"Alright, steady," McG coached. He slid Adam's arm over his shoulder, mindful of the bruised, broken hand and ribs. Preach did the same on Adam's left. The blond breathed heavily through the movement, squeezing his eyes shut at the pull against his ribs. It quickly became clear he couldn't stand on his own, the wounds to his legs too painful and deep. He hung heavily between his two supports, struggling with even that.
The team set out, navigating the threads of hallways as they maneuvered around fallen guards. Adam's breathing was erratic, punctuated by sharp gasps of pain. It unsettled McG, and he wished passionately for a quick, smooth escape.
Jaz moved expertly ahead of them while Amir covered their backs. There was an anxious look in their eyes, their posture stiff. Preach and McG were swiftly moving with Adam between them, the team leader trying to walk a little to be less of a burden.
As they wandered further down the halls, Adam let out a small grunt or two, grimacing against the pain in his legs and chest. They were close, and the door was quickly approaching.
Jaz pushed the door open, holding it as Preach and McG dragged Adam over the threshold. The team leader was quickly losing strength, the agony and torture catching up to him. He still did his best to walk, but the pain was too much, and the energy it took was overwhelming.
Amir quietly closed the door behind them, and the team moved through the shadows. They made it to the edge of the property, weaving through the brush.
"Command, we're free and clear and making our way back to transport," Preach whispered. Adam's weight was heavy, the team leader losing more and more strength with every step.
"How's Dalton?" Patricia asked, her firm voiced edged with worry. Most likely, she'd seen some extent of the damage through their body cams. Perhaps she was looking for a positive reassurance.
Preach looked at McG, catching the medic's own grim expression. "Alive but in bad shape."
There was a tense silence on the other end, abuzz with an overwhelming anxiousness.
"I'll get a better look when we get back to transport," McG reported, painfully aware of Adam's huffs and grunts. Looking up at the road ahead of them, McG grimaced at the distance. "Just hold on a little longer, Top."
Jaz looked back, her expression pinching as she watched Adam stumble onward.
People like us don't do powerless very well.
Her own words echoed in her head as she was left to simply watch him suffer. Crimson had already seeped through various bandages, a stark reminder of his injuries. And until they were in the truck, heading back to safety, he just had to plow on.
The team moved silently toward where they'd abandoned the truck, Adam's breathing turning into pained wheezing. He was determined to push himself onward, pressing past his limits.
Finally, the truck came into sight.
They quickly cleared the last few hundred feet, Jaz running ahead to pull the tailgate down. Adam was sagging wearily between McG and Preach, too tired to go on anymore. His feet managed a halfhearted stumble, and Preach ended up dragging the team leader for the final few yards as McG jumped into the bed of the truck.
"Careful," Jaz muttered, her large eyes watching worriedly. McG reached out to take Adam, dragging the leader up into the back as carefully as he could. Adam let out a whimper, scrunching his eyes shut as his ribs screamed in protest. He looked positively drained, sitting uncomfortably on the edge of unconsciousness.
Jaz blinked harshly and bit her lip. She knew he shouldn't have gone in alone. They all did.
"Get in the back, Jaz. McG could use your help."
She looked at Preach, knowing exactly what he was doing. Without hesitation, she climbed into the bed of the truck, closing the tailgate with a forceful pull. Preach was already stepping up into the passenger seat, and as soon as everyone was situated, Amir smoothly pulled the truck out onto the road.
Adam was still. Small pitiful grunts fell from his mouth with every bump and rumble, and his eyes fell shut as he did his best to breathe past the spikes of discomfort
"What can I do?" Jaz asked, desperate for a distraction from the pale hue of Adam's face.
McG held out more gauze. "Put some pressure on that leg."
She immediately did as she was told, grabbing the bandaging and leaning her weight on the wound. Adam gasped painfully, too tired for a sharper reaction.
Jaz thought back to her own captivity, her eyes trailing Adam's bloody bandages. She remembered the pain, the injuries. But while every wound was painful, Adam's were different. Deeper. Bloodier. The result of a brittle, deep-set rage. A different kind of inhumane.
How he could even take a step at all was a mystery all on its own.
Jaz's mind flashed back to the initial entry, the sick image of a red-glinted blade pulling slowly from Adam's leg.
She shared a look with McG, her own eyes full of anger and sorrow. He frowned, holding her gaze as long as he could before refocusing on Adam's broken hand. "You alright, Jaz?"
"Yeah, fine," she muttered, her voice strangely hoarse. There was a pause, the squeaks and rattles of the old truck filling the quiet night. Jaz looked down at Adam's arm, seeing the bloody stripes in the gauze. Adam would say it's part of their job. That they agreed to all the pain and injury from the moment they accepted the position.
In a way, it was. But that didn't make it any easier.
McG cupped Adam's face as he took a hard look at the team leader. "Looks like he passed out."
Looking at Adam, Jaz recognized the slack expression of unconsciousness. She moved her eyes to McG and watched him manipulate the bones in Adam's broken hand. Just watching was painful, and she couldn't hold back her own heavy grimace. But if there was a time to do it, it was now. No doubt, resetting a broken hand was incredibly painful—and there was no better painkiller than the bliss of unconsciousness.
But damn, she could hardly stand to watch. She should've gone with him. She should've insisted.
Just imagining how his hand had been broken was unbearable.
Jaz looked back down at her own hands, black gloves pressed tightly against the bright white of gauze. The wind whispered through the darkness, the truck bouncing lightly over rough roads. Everything was still in the middle of the night. But in the back of an old, beat up truck, there was silent chaos.
And yet, the rest of the world kept turning.