Blood Lands (Savage Lands #5)(86)

“Ahh... of course they are.” Killian clicked his tongue. “You do have quite the harem, Ms. Kovacs.”

Warwick held out his arms in a “right?” expression.

I glared at him.

“Um, I was actually brought here against my will.” Scorpion lifted his hand.

My glower turned to Scorpion. He winked back at me before he broke the link, disappearing.

“What the hell are you guys talking about?” Tracker’s aggravated tone snipped in the darkness.

I flicked my chin at Warwick, telling him to leave.

A low vibration came from his chest before he leaned forward, his fingers sliding through my hair as his mouth crashed into mine. His lips claimed mine with a fierceness, marking me, owning me, and then he was gone. Leaving me stumbling on solid ground.

“Asshole,” I muttered.

Bang. Bang. The hollow echo of pounding metal was followed by Tracker yelling. “Hey!” He kicked at the door again. “Hey! Open up! I have to piss.”

“What are you doing?” I hissed.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Tracker replied like duh.

“Stop it!” I exclaimed. What the hell did he think? That’s how it worked down here? There would be no repercussions for this? Tracker was arrogant, but I never believed it outweighed his common sense. He was top tier in Povstat. You didn’t get that far being stupid.

His boot continued to kick at the door, and I heard commotion stir down the hallway.

“Hülye fasz!” Dumb fuck. Killian shot at him. “Shut. Up.”

It was too late. The lock on the door clanked over, and it swung open, making me flinch with the light from the passage. A handful of guards stepped in.

“What the fuck?” The lead one had a bald head and ripped arms. Again, I recognized none of them. What had happened to all the guards I knew?

“I have to piss, asshole.” Tracker lifted his head, glaring at them.

“Oh, do you? What’s wrong with right here” The guard shot a look at Killian and me, making sure we were watching before he reached down, clutching Tracker’s shirt, yanking him to his feet as far as the chains allowed him. “Maybe I’ll make it easier for you, get you to piss on yourself right here, or break your dick so you have to piss out of a tube?”

I saw no fear on Tracker’s face, his gaze centered on the guard. “I have to use the latrine. Now!”

I flinched, expecting the first hit.

The bald guy let go of him, hesitating longer than I thought he would before he struck Tracker, crashing him back down to the ground. The guard’s boot kicked him in the stomach. Spit sprayed from Tracker’s mouth. “You want the latrine so bad? Okay, we can do that. Little field trip, huh, Tracker?” Baldy stepped away, something in his tone dropping lead into my gut. “Uncuff him,” he ordered another. A young kid, all of about seventeen, jumped forward, unlatching Tracker’s chains. Three other guards gathered around him, grabbing his arms and hauling him to the door.

Fear seized my chest, understanding if Tracker was taken from this room, he wouldn’t come back.

“No!” I shouted, lunging forward, my cuffs cutting into my wrists and ankles. “No! Please!”

Tracker wiggled and yelled as they dragged him out, the door slamming back on us. His cries echoed and howled all the way down the hallway. Then he went quiet.

The sudden silence felt like a bomb. Shock rendered me still, taking in what had just happened.

Neither Killian nor I spoke. I couldn’t. A certainty in my gut told me he wasn’t going to return. Maybe I wasn’t close to Tracker, but it didn’t take away from the trauma of losing another person so mercilessly. Another to brush under the rug, to lock away in a box until the day I would have to face all the death, pain, and sorrow head-on.

It was building up, overflowing, and swelling. I feared the day everything would explode, raining down bloody bits of my soul.

“They might not kill him,” Killian finally spoke.

We both felt and heard the lie. This place didn’t give reprieves. Those were saved for the victims Istvan wanted to torture with even crueler deaths.

Tracker was nothing but a number.





Time ticked on and on. With each passing hour Tracker didn’t return, the heaviness of his fate burrowed down on me. Hunger, pain, boredom, and grief were sinking me further into myself.

“Brexley?” Killian had called my name several times now. “Talk to me.”

I didn’t want to give up hope, but I was losing the battle within. The truth stared me boldly in the face. No one was coming for us. So many were dead. And since I didn’t see a way out, many more of us would follow. Maybe it would be a blessing. If Istvan found the nectar, this country, and probably the world, would be hell on earth anyway.

“Don’t give up on me, Ms. Kovacs. Not now.”

“What’s the point?” I hated the pitiful break in my voice.

“What is the point of all of it?” he responded. “Remember what your uncle said the one night in the square? Love, friendship, and family. They are the reason to fight for all of this. The single true point of life. The rest is bullshit.” He quoted Andris’s sentiment.

My head dropped to my knees, tears burning behind my lids, my mouth pinning together to keep my sob back. The memory of my uncle was sharp and raw. A cruelty no torture could touch. My father’s death had destroyed me, but there was a purity in that pain, a hole I could fill with his memory.