by Stasia Black
The rush of adrenaline at finally having the single thing Eric cared most for in the world—fuck, it felt good. It felt really, really good. More satisfying than even getting rid of that weakling of a President and installing himself as President instead.
Travis pulled his long, sharp knife from the sheath on his belt and bent down, pressing his blade to her throat. She was still gagged, so she couldn’t say anything other than making horrified little squeaks.
“Just the smallest bit of pressure, and your life is over,” Travis whispered with a grin. “Just give me an excuse. Please. I beg you.”
He could see her pulse fluttering in her throat like a terrified rabbit’s. He laughed. “Wow, I really would have thought Eric’s daughter would have a little more fight in her. But that’s okay.” He bent down and whispered. “When I rape you, over and over until you have no tears left, it won’t have mattered if you fought in the beginning or not.”
Her eyes flashed furiously up to him. She had her mother’s eyes.
Travis had hated that bitch. She’d been the first one to steal Eric away from him. So even though he hadn’t intended to mark the girl yet, the tip of the knife pierced her neck, drawing a small prick of blood that began to spill like a tiny waterfall of red down her neck.
Travis had always been fascinated by blood. It was so bright and chaotic. When you cut into a person, the blood tended to spray so messily.
And the screams, Travis liked those too. He liked to draw it out for as long as he could. How many cuts, how much blood could drip and spray and congeal and then drip and spray the next day, and the next, and the next, before a person’s eyes finally went distant, their soul finally separating from their suit of meat?
Travis lifted the flat of the blade to his tongue and licked the bead of her blood caught there.
Her eyes widened in horror and Travis smiled because that was part of the fun, too. Slowly breaking down the mind along with the body until they admitted you were their god, the only determiner of their life and death.
“We’re going to have a lot of fun together, honey,” he whispered, grinning down at Eric’s terrified daughter.
But just as he was about to order one of his guards to start dragging her behind him as they left for his villa, movement out of his periphery had his head jerking up.
Right in time to see the man, Jagger, running straight toward him.
Travis laughed as the man tackled him to the ground, several feet away from Eric’s daughter, immediately grappling with him for the knife.
He was strong, Travis would give him that. When he slammed Travis’s wrist to the floor, it almost even hurt.
But there was no fucking way that, this close to what he wanted, Travis would be cheated out of it.
Travis held onto the knife with a death grip. And seconds later, his guards were pulling the man off of him.
Two other guards held Eric’s daughter immobile, her mouth dropped open in a shocked O of surprise as she watched them pull Jagger off him.
“I’m sorry, Sophia,” the poor bastard said, voice stricken. “I’m sorry. I knew he recognized you. As soon as he saw you, I knew he recognized you so I was trying to find the best way to—”
Enough of this sappy bullshit.
Travis flipped his knife around and sank it into Jagger’s guts, hilt deep.
Chapter Twenty-Three
SOPHIA
“No!” Sophia screamed, fighting against the arms holding her and trying to get to Jagger. He stumbled several steps backwards, his hands dropping to his stomach as Travis ruthlessly yanked the knife out.
Travis’s guards were immediately there, grabbing Jagger’s arms so he couldn’t lunge at Travis again.
Jagger hadn’t betrayed her after all. He’d just seen what she hadn’t. Travis had recognized her somehow. She didn’t especially look like either of her parents. But he’d still known— Duh, he hated Dad. It would have been easy to run surveillance on him… and his family.
Stupid. She should have thought of that possibility. So Jagger had done the only thing he could think to—pretended he was selling him the daughter of his enemy so he could take a chance at killing Travis himself.
Except he’d failed.
He’d taken his chance when Travis had that knife out. It had been desperate but he had to know it might be his last time in a room with Travis. And Sophia hadn’t realized what was happening until too late. She hadn’t believed in Jagger. She’d thought he was just another Henry and that there really was no one she could trust.
She could kick herself, though, for not trying to help once she did realize what Jagger was doing. She could have helped him hold Travis down, or tried to get the knife sooner, or caused some sort of distraction so he could—
But she hadn’t and now Jagger had a bleeding abdominal wound, blood seeping down his shirt as he covered it clumsily with his hands.
The blood was so bright. Sophia could only stare on in shock. It was so bright. This couldn’t be real. Blood wasn’t really that bright red, was it?
Arnold Travis couldn’t really have her captured, could he? She hadn’t walked right into this horrible trap, had she? Dear God, what had she done?
“Tie him to a chair,” Travis ordered sharply. “And get me a fucking camera. Now,” he shouted when his guards didn’t move fast enough.
The guards not holding her began scrambling to obey Travis’s orders.
Sophia could only weep as orders were repeated over walkies and more guards appeared at the door with both a camera and rope, plenty of rope.
They tied Jagger to a chair without doing anything to address his wound. His head hung groggily but he was still conscious. Oh Jagger.
She’d done exactly what she’d sworn she wouldn’t after all—she’d forced another person to sacrifice their life for her.
Travis could have ended Jagger’s life easily with the knife. But it was clear he meant for Jagger to suffer. Sophia cried harder. What had she done? What had she done?
She fought when the guards came for her. But she was no match for three grown, trained men. They picked her up and carried her to where Travis pointed. To the bed.
She screamed into the gag as they tied her spread eagle to the four posters of the bed.
Travis took off his shirt. Then his jeans.
He came toward the bed in just his boxers. She knew he was only as old as her dad, but he looked far older. His hair was mostly silver with bits of brown whereas her dad’s was the other way around. And Travis was muscular but lean and brutal looking, like a jackal.
Sophia tried to calm her breathing. She was fucking hyperventilating. She couldn’t— She had to— He was about to—
Travis grinned down at her, then he looked up to one of his men. “Are we recording?”
Sophia spun her head to look at the man with the camera, right as he nodded.
“Eric, long time no see,” Travis said, and Sophia’s whole body went stiff at hearing him say her father’s name. No. Oh God, no.
“I had a visitor today. You’ll never guess who.” Travis smiled into the camera and then gestured down.
Sophia squeezed her eyes shut, knowing the camera was panning down to her.
“Oh don’t be shy. I’m sure Daddy wants to see all of you.” Travis slapped her and her eyes popped open with the blow.
Then he pulled the gag out of her mouth. She wrenched her head away from him the second he got it off, turning her head away from the camera.
Travis just laughed some more, a noise she knew would haunt her until her dying day.
He skirted his hand up her thigh and Sophia struggled against the ropes tied at her ankles, no matter that doing so only made them chafe and burn.
“Get off her, you sick fuck!” Jagger yelled.
Travis just climbed on the bed, jerking her skirt up and exposing her to the camera. “That’s her erstwhile defender you hear shouting. Go ahead, get a shot of him.”
The cameraman swung toward Jagge
r who continued shouting epithets and fighting against the ropes the guards were still securing around his arms and legs in spite of his wound.
“Stop, Jagger,” Sophia cried, her throat thick with tears. “Stop.”
“Isn’t that sweet?” Travis mocked. “She’s so concerned about her man.” He shook his head. “But gotta say, he’s not in the best shape.”
Then Travis looked back down at Sophia as he climbed in between her legs. “Your little girl here, now, that’s another story. She looks very, very good. Mighty scrumptious, actually.”
Travis bent down and ground himself against her and she turned her face away, shuddering in disgust at the feel of him on top of her.
You can do this, Sophia. It would be like earlier with the ‘inspections. She’d close her eyes. Pretend she wasn’t here. That this wasn’t her body. She’d get through it. Stay alive for another day. Another opportunity to kill Travis.
Travis pinched her nipple until she couldn’t help but cry out. Then he did the same to the other.
“You hear that, Eric?” Travis shouted over her. “That’s the sound of your little girl screaming because you aren’t here to help her.”
“Come closer,” he waved to the cameraman. “See your daughter’s cunt, Eric? See how close I am to it? She’s tied up. She can’t go anywhere. I could fuck her all day long. You can see how hard I am for it.”
Sophia had her eyes squeezed shut and she wished she could shut her ears to the disgusting, foul things he was saying.
She could feel Travis through his boxers. He was hard. And large. It would hurt.
It wouldn’t be like earlier with the inspections, either. She wouldn’t be able to pretend she wasn’t here. Not while he was defiling her with that.
And he meant to send this to her dad. Oh God, please, she begged, though she didn’t know what she was even asking for. Still, she couldn’t stop begging. Please, please.
“Are you seeing this, Eric? See how easily it’ll be for me to destroy your little girl’s cunt? I won’t be gentle about it, either. If I’m going to turn her into a brothel girl to sell to the highest bidder, I’ll need to break her in good, won’t I?”
Tears poured out Sophia’s eyes, listening to her future detailed so horribly.
Any second, he’d push his boxers down and shove inside her.
Any moment now—
But to her shock, Travis backed away and climbed off the bed.
“Of course, friend, you could save her from that fate. I’ll offer you a deal—for old times sake, let’s say. If you walk through my door within 5 days, I’ll let you exchange yourself for her. She’ll go free, completely untouched.”
“No!” Sophia shouted. Oh God, this was worse than anything Travis could do to her. No, she couldn’t let Dad die for her just like Mom did. “No, Dad, don’t!”
“Oh shut up, you dumb whore,” Travis said, turning and slapping her again. Unlike his first slap after the camera had turned on, this one had all his weight behind it and she was quickly stunned, pain exploding all over the left side of her face.
She blinked in confusion, Travis’s voice coming from far away. “Five days. Don’t be late. I’ll barely be able to stop myself from fucking this sweet, tight little cunt in the meantime, so if you don’t show, then it’s open season on your little girl.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
JAGGER
“I need to see Eric Wolford,” Jagger gasped, shoving the truck door open at the rebel checkpoint outside Cleborne.
“Hey, stay back.” Two soldiers in green fatigues raised weapons on him and several more came running toward the truck.
Jagger put his arms up. Or tried to, anyway. He stumbled and fell to his knees, a hand clutching his stomach where he’d been stabbed in the gut.
The world tipped sideways and then swam back into focus.
Hold it together. Fucking hold it together. Just a little longer.
She was back there. Sophia was back there with that monster and Jagger had to let them know. He had to get her help.
Travis’s men had put him in a truck an hour and a half ago and sent him south with Travis’s message and Jagger hadn’t been sure he’d be able to make it ten miles, much less forty.
But he had. He was here. So close to finishing his mission.
He fought through another bout of faintness as he reached into his pocket.
“Hands where I can see them. Now or I’ll fucking shoot!”
Jagger pulled out the tablet loaded with Travis’s video message.
“Take this,” Jagger heaved for breath. “Eric Wolford.” Spots danced in his vision. “His daughter.”
Sophia’s face flashed before his eyes and then it was only blackness as he crumpled to the ground.
Chapter Twenty-Five
ERIC WOLFORD
What do you mean, you thought she’d be here?” Eric yelled at Finnigan Knight. The boy who’d run off with his daughter two and a half weeks before had come back half an hour ago and Eric had only just been notified about it. He’d had the boy brought immediately to him.
The boy who had somehow lost his daughter several days ago.
“I mean,” Finn said, pacing back and forth in the trailer they were currently using as Command Central, “that we got intel that Travis has an army of mercenary ex-Southern Alliance soldiers and you’re even more outnumbered than you thought.”
“What?” Drea snapped. “How many?”
Drea, Eric, plus several of her top commanders including David, Jonathan, and others were crowded in the living room of the trailer area discussing their planned assault on the capital. The trailer park in Cleburne was only forty miles outside Fort Worth. They had maps of the city, of the old tunnel systems underneath the city and the strategic points where they thought they had the best chances of breaking through scattered on tables set up throughout the room.
“You’ll be outnumbered three to one.” Finn looked back and forth from Drea to Eric.
Drea swore and looked to her commanders who immediately began talking heatedly amongst themselves.
“What does that have to do with my daughter?” Eric asked Finn impatiently. Ever since Eric made the decision to go help Drea instead of follow his daughter three weeks ago, he’d been haunted wondering if he’d done the right thing. Drea had needed his help immediately, he’d told himself. And she had. She would have died if he hadn’t shown up in the eleventh hour. So he couldn’t bring himself to regret his choice.
But when he’d gone looking for his daughter after the dust had settled and they’d taken San Antonio, she was nowhere to be found. Once he realized she and Finn had taken one of the Jacob’s Well trucks, he knew going after her would be a fool’s errand. They could have gone any one of a hundred different routes to get to Santa Fe.
And Sophia was of age, as much as he’d wanted to deny it. She was a grown woman who could make her own choices. Something Drea regularly reminded him of. Sophia wasn’t helpless, and Eric had done as much as possible to teach her to defend herself. Plus, she had Finn. Eric hadn’t known him well, but the little he did reassured him that Finn was a reasonable boy who knew something of the real world. Surely he’d keep Sophia from getting into too much trouble.
Except here was Finn. Without Eric’s daughter.
“When we woke up and found Sophia gone, I was sure she’d come straight here to warn you.” Finn dragged a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know where the hell else she and Jagger would go if not here.”
There was a brief knock at the door and then a soldier stepped in without waiting for a reply. “Sir, there’s another one.”
“I said not to disturb us,” Eric snapped.
“I know, sir, but you were also mad when we didn’t bring him,” he pointed at Finn, “to you right away. And well, there’s another one. Says he knows your daughter and has a message from her.”
Eric and Finn looked at each other. “Where is he?” Eric demanded at the same time Finn asked, “What
’s he look like?”
“Never mind,” Eric said. “Just take us to him.”
“Eric.” Drea reached a hand out to him, concern etched in her features.
“It’s fine,” he said over his shoulder as he hurried after the soldier. “Stay here. I know you need to deal with the new intel.”
They were on the eve of their assault and what Finn had told them could change everything. But Eric couldn’t care much about the war right now. He’d have to leave that to Drea.
Ever since he’d gotten back from Afghanistan eight and a half years ago to find his wife left for dead in the Death Riots and his little girl hiding in a closet upstairs, he’d sworn to devote his life to protecting Sophia. He’d built Jacob’s Well township for her, so she could have a safe and happy childhood. And when the time was right, it was meant to be a place for her to marry good men and create a family apart from the ugliness and violence of the outside world.
Eric expected the soldier to lead him to the border defense line, but instead he took them toward the infirmary trailer.
“Why are we here?” Eric asked.
“The fella was in bad shape. Near passed out right after he got here and said his bit about finding you.”
“What do you mean, bad shape?” Finn asked as they jogged up the stairs and pushed the trailer door open.
“You’ll have to ask the doc. All I know is he was bleeding from his stomach, soaked his bandage through and—”
“Jagger?” Finn exclaimed as soon as he got through the door. He rushed forward to the man on the cot in the center of the room. “Where’s Sophia?”
“Back,” said a medic who tried to block Finn’s way. “Hey, get back. This man’s going to die if we don’t operate. Now.”
Eric stared down at the man in the cot. His shirt was off and he had an ugly, inflamed stomach wound. Not a bullet wound, but maybe a knife? And it looked like he’d lost a lot of blood.
And Finn had called him Jagger. This was the man who’d supposedly last been with Sophia. But Sophia wasn’t with him and he had a life-threatening wound.