Taken (The Condemned Series Book 2)

by Alison Aimes

  Another few twists and knots—the rapid flutter of his captive’s breath across his skin making his fingers clumsier than they should have been—and he’d made a short tether connecting her bound wrists to the strongest weapon loophole around his waist.

  She’d be coming with him, with or without her cooperation.

  “Prepare yourself.” Turning to the entrance, the tether slid into place, her bound wrists only a few hands length from his spine.

  “Wait.” He barely felt the tug as she dug in her heels, but the fear and bravado in her voice was harder to ignore. “If it’s not death or rape you’re after…how…how exactly are you planning to use me?”

  Another unwelcome bolt of lust shot through him. Her refusal to be cowed impressing him, even as it baited the beast in him to respond.

  Which is probably why he gave her the truth. “You’re bait.”

  “I don’t…I don’t understand.”

  “I think you do.” No mercy, he reminded himself. That’s who he was. How he and his remaining men survived.

  Twisting, he loomed over her once more. “This Council prison camp is a fortress, buried under thousands of pounds of hard rock, guarded by drones and lasers at all potential exits, including the transport hold. We are required to work three quarters of a full Dragath rotation and allowed only a brief period to rest and eat before being called to work again. It’s a backbreaking, hellish existence and the only way out is death.” He gave a deliberate pause. “Until now.”

  “No.” She stumbled back, only to be pulled up short by his bind.

  “Yes.” The long-forgotten tang of hope tasted sweet on his tongue. “Once your precious husband knows you’re here, he’ll do whatever it takes to reacquire you—Whatever. It. Takes.”

  “He’s not my anything. I hate him.”

  So sincere. Maybe the rumor of her running away was true, after all.

  Not that it mattered.

  He took a menacing step closer. “That’s not what he thinks about you though, is it?”

  The widening of her emerald eyes told him everything.

  “Exactly. Hate him, love him. He’ll come for you no matter what.” Valdus’s fists clenched, his adrenaline spiking. “And I’ll be ready.”

  Hollisworth’s thumbprint was the key to overriding the transport hold and returning to the surface. Valdus knew because the bastard had told him so—right before making a point of saying he’d never lift a finger to get him and his men out.

  But that was about to change. Because once Valdus drew the bastard to the mines, he and his men would have the advantage. They knew every hiding place. Every ambush point. They knew where the drones were vulnerable to attack and where the caves narrowed, making it impossible to use high-powered lasers. The labyrinth itself would become their greatest weapon. They’d take on Hollisworth and his soldiers and, though they’d be outnumbered and wielding cruder weapons, they would win.

  Despite his declaration, Hollisworth would be lifting a finger to aid their escape—with or without it attached to the rest of him.

  All thanks to the breeder who would serve as bait.

  Turning back around, Valdus took a few steps forward—gratified to feel the tug of the rope as the key to his escape staggered behind him.

  No room for distractions. No space for emotion of any kind, he reminded himself.

  The completion of his plan and the survival of his remaining men depended on it.

  “You’ll want to stay alert.” With renewed determination, he slammed his face mask into place. “If the other inmates catch us, you’ll be dead before your adoring husband’s shuttle touches down.”

  8

  “Give her to us.”

  It was a mini ambush. Waiting just outside their hidey-hole.

  Over her captor’s too-wide shoulder, Ava caught a glimpse of three hard faces. She jumped backward—only to be yanked forward like a puppet on a string, the tether binding her wrists jerking her forward as her captor leapt.

  His weapon sliced through the air so quickly it was over before she could blink.

  “Dear Janus.” Her legs automatically vaulted over one body as her mind worked to process what he’d done. Without hesitation. Three men dead.

  “It’s them or us.” There was no remorse in his voice. No triumph, either. Just the same icy, ruthless tone he’d used to call her bait. Crouching down, he yanked the tattered shirt—now stained with blood—from one of the dead men’s bodies and stuffed it into his harness. He did the same twice more with brutal efficiency. As if he’d done it hundreds of times before. “Pity will only get you killed faster.”

  Her heart slammed harder against her ribs. What would she do when he turned all that ruthlessness on her?

  She had to escape. And soon.

  The rope pulled taut and she stumbled forward.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  Silence.

  “Is it someplace Hollisworth can see me?”

  More dead air.

  The narrow tunnels all looked the same. There were worn, smooth paths in the middle, likely made by the trudge of countless boots, while the rest of the corridor was jagged chaos. Rust-colored stalagmites of sharp rock stuck out in every direction, topped by a low, spiky ceiling covered in stalactites that appeared ready to crumble with the next sneeze.

  And with every step, her distance from Bella and the rest of her crew increased.

  “What will happen to the men back at the transport hold?” She darted around a large sharp boulder. “The soldier with me?”

  No response.

  His callous detachment lashed against her skin.

  Once or twice, they passed what looked like man-made markers referencing a certain sector, but it was hard to tell, the lines unreadable through layers of red clay and grime.

  “Does this part of the mine have a name?”

  No answer.

  She swallowed down an enraged scream.

  Hollisworth hadn’t liked it when she spoke either. He preferred a silent bride.

  Which is exactly why she spoke again. “How long have you been down here?”

  Official Council channels had reported Valdus and his men executed within a rotation of their trial sentence. Their demise was celebrated as proof her husband had quashed the Resistance and reestablished the safety of the general population.

  One more lie among so many.

  But it made some sense Hollisworth hadn’t killed these men outright as he’d claimed. Her husband would have enjoyed the irony of the very Resistance fighters who’d tried to overthrow him entombed in this hellhole, forced to work to consolidate his power.

  “There were riots among the Resistance fighters after your deaths were announced.” She gambled that her current captor might be more willing to offer up information if she shared some of her own. “An unsanctioned funeral was held.”

  His shoulders bunched, the gleaming muscles in his back shifting and flexing, but he remained mute.

  “For a while it looked as if your death was the end of the Resistance, but it’s resurged once more.” She was panting as she struggled to keep up, the slight sting at her wrists a constant as the tether rubbed against her skin, but she refused to stop speaking. She needed to find the chink in his armor. The words that would get him thinking of her as more than bait. “No one know who’s leading it now, but the fighting has been intense.”

  Though she wasn’t fool enough to say it aloud, her captor and his men were lucky. More recently, captured Resistance fighters were being shipped off planet to a place that made this underground prison look like a pleasure vacation.

  Her chest tightened, the memories of the screams stealing her breath.

  She’d visited Hollisworth’s unsanctioned experimental testing lab only once: the rotation he’d forced his nanotechnology inside her. But she’d seen enough during that single visit to ensure she’d suffer a lifetime of nightmares. Enough to know that her husband’s capacity for horrific cruelty extended far be
yond what he’d done to her.

  Desperate to turn her thoughts elsewhere, she tried again. “How can it hurt to tell me your plan? Maybe it would even be helpful. Let me guess: you find a way to let Hollisworth know I’m here, he comes looking for me, and then…what? You use me as a bargaining chip?”

  “If I have to.”

  “He’ll never give you what he promises.”

  “I don’t need him, too. I just need him to come. Then, I’ll kill him.”

  She was so surprised at her captor’s matter-of-fact tone that it took her a moment to find her words. “And if you fail?”

  “I won’t.”

  “But if you do?”

  “We die.”

  “No,” she shook her head, fury and hopelessness digging like claws into her chest. “You and your men die. I’ll spend a lifetime in endless darkness and torment.”

  He paused in mid-step. Started to turn.

  Without warning, two blurred figures emerged from behind an outcropping of rocks, their red-caked fingers outstretched.

  Her throat gurgled a shocked O, her legs scrambling to dodge while her mind registered that it was too late.

  But she was wrong.

  A flash of silver and the two attackers hit the ground, their heads bouncing as they landed face up, no longer attached to their bodies, the cold, empty eyes wide open and unmoving.

  “There are always those who use rest time for things other than sleep or sustenance—and pay the price.” Crouching down, not even breathing hard, her captor ran his hands along the bodies, taking whatever ripped and tattered coverings they had, before shooting up right again. “Come.”

  Pulled along, she fought for breath. Horror and gratitude playing tug-of-war as her captor resumed their march as if nothing had happened.

  But it had.

  She cast a quick glimpse over her shoulder. Naked and still, those dead men looked harmless now, but they hadn’t been.

  The confusion of it all pressed heavily on her chest.

  She forced one foot in front of the other as they turned another corner, the bodies no longer in view. “Th-thank you. I—”

  “Here.” A leathery hide appeared in front of her nose, sloshing ever so slightly. “Drink.”

  The tantalizing scent of something brackish flooded her lungs. She’d been so distracted she hadn’t realized how thirsty she’d become. Her throat clenched uselessly, rasping against itself like sandpaper, the liquid suddenly all she wanted.

  But she’d learned not to trust such gifts. With her husband there’d always been a cost.

  She forced her hands to stay by her sides. “I’m fine.”

  “It’s water.” The barrier of the faceplate made it impossible to see his expression, but she sensed the impatience. “Dehydration is death down here, breeder.”

  The words bubbled forth before she could stop them. “My name is not breeder. Or bride. Or Ayanna Talis. I told you. I’m…I’m not that person anymore. I’ve forsaken the chosen position and all that goes with it.” Her gaze dropped to the binds at her arms as she sucked down a trembling breath. “I am Ava Davies.” She stood taller. “I am a scientist and my name is Ava Davies.”

  He shoved the faceplate up.

  Ice blue eyes bored into her.

  The hide thrust toward her again. “I won’t ask again. Drink, captive. Or I’ll pour it down your throat myself.”

  His message was clear. Trying to humanize herself wouldn’t work. Trying to get him to see her as anything but bait and captive an impossible feat.

  Fine.

  She allowed her shoulders to dip as if cowed, but inside the ember of defiance flared bright. Her escape plans solidifying.

  Step one: standing as they were, she finally had some slack in her binds. The instant he dropped his guard, she’d be ready. Slipping her hands inside her pocket and popping her pill into her mouth.

  There was nothing more important than that.

  Step two, when he lurched closer to see what she’d done, she’d grab one of the sharp, creepy animal bones off his belt and shove it directly into his thigh. Incapacitating him long enough to steal the glowing dagger off his belt and flee.

  She didn’t know how long she’d survive without this man, but she did know that once he turned her over to Hollisworth, she’d wish she was already dead. Better to take her chances now.

  Snatching the hide awkwardly with her bound hands, she tipped it back and drank, her throat working greedily, the splash of liquid pure, reenergizing bliss.

  “Not so fast.” A hand wrapped around her wrist making her flinch.

  His grip dropped away. Followed by a slight pause. “Too much at once will make you sick.”

  Was he actually explaining himself to her?

  “Here.” Something red and crumbly appeared under her nose. “Chase the water down with this.”

  Surprise ran through her. She eyed him carefully, trying to uncover his motivation.

  His inscrutable expression gave nothing away.

  She gave the crumbs a sniff. The faint tang of dirt echoed through her lungs.

  “I won’t offer again.” Impatience roughened his tone.

  She’d encountered nothing like it on the surface. Still, if he wanted to kill her, he’d have done it already.

  “O-okay.” Grasping the skin in one hand, she opened her palm and let him brush his “food” into her palm. It was spongier and softer than expected, a bit like the moss back on Earth.

  “It grows at the base of the wet rocks deep in the caves.” Her compliance assured, his shoulders relaxed and he offered his longest explanation to date. “It helps stave off the thirst.”

  An unexpected longing to explore this unfamiliar realm shot through her.

  It was so different down here. Horrible. Terrifying. Bleak. But full of surprises she’d never expected. Useful compounds and plants she’d never have found while scouring the surface. Along with her precious, essential ore.

  “Finish it.” The rough command jerked her from her thoughts and reminded her that such discoveries would have to wait. First, she had to escape.

  Tongue darting out, she scooped up a small portion of the crumbled plant cupped in her palm and tried not to notice the force of his stare.

  Like its scent, the plant was fairly tasteless, but the tiny burst of liquid as she bit into it and the faint salty aftertaste were more than welcome. She popped the rest into her mouth. “It’s good. Thank you.”

  His eyes widened infinitesimally.

  Had he expected her to cast aside his offering? Disparage it? She supposed many Council would take such gifts as their due, years of entitlement warping them into ungrateful creatures. But there were many more like her who’d been humbled by their positions long ago.

  Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she studied her captor studying her and wondered if this was her chance.

  “Drink more.” He gestured with his chin toward the skin, his voice raspier than before. “But not too fast.”

  Though she hated bowing to his will, she did it. Telling herself it served her purpose, not his.

  The painful burn in her throat eased with each swallow. Her energy returning as the water settled in her stomach. Her confidence growing as well.

  Until some sixth sense had her gaze lifting.

  Gone was her captor’s mask of indifference. Instead, hot, hooded eyes were locked on her mouth, his nostrils flaring at the sight of her lips wrapped tight around the rim of the hide.

  Ice slid through her veins.

  She recognized that look.

  “I’m done.” Movements jerky, she thrust the skin at him, then skittered back as far as the bind would allow. Her breath a painful pant as she braced for the grab. Old bruises throbbing as if they’d happened yesterday.

  But her captor surprised her.

  “Then, we move out.” Expression blanking, he hooked the skin to his belt, and, turning around, resumed his march.

  As if what she’d glimpsed in his s
tare had never been.

  Her wrists jerked forward. Her boots next.

  He returned to his inhuman pace, giving her no choice but to follow or be dragged.

  And, yet, he’d left her alone. Untouched.

  Why? He could have easily dragged her into the dirt and taken her, but he hadn’t. Because he was waiting for a better opportunity? Or because he truly meant what he said earlier about not wanting her? Her husband had never denied himself when the mood to rut was on him, but he’d never given her food or water without expecting something in return, either.

  Chest tight, she pumped her legs to keep up, questions about the nature of her new captor’s character buzzing through her brain, one after another, confusion and wariness and curiosity battling for dominance—until it dawned on her that he’d discomforted her so much she’d lost her chance to grab her pill and stab him.

  Then, she was just pissed.

  9

  They’d been close to sprinting for a while, the twists and turns growing narrower. The consequences of her failure battering her with every step.

  She’d panicked. Failed to keep her cool and now the nanotechnology had kicked into high gear, overstimulating her hormonal cycle, building the heat.

  It licked along the insides of her thighs. Plucking at her sensitive breasts. Swelling her clit. Each step an agonizing friction that throbbed with the mocking thought that her captor was right. That she was nothing more than bait and breeder and bride. Nothing more than exactly what Hollisworth had made her.

  Calm down! She forced herself to take deep breaths.

  After all, this was not the first time she’d been in this position. A few times while on the run, her pills had run out before she’d been able to find a supplier she could trust. During those gaps, finding a sperm donor had been surprisingly easy.

  Declare you required sex and there were Council and non-Council men aplenty willing to comply. Some hadn’t needed much more than her admission, bending her over and spreading her wide before she’d taken off her clothes. Others had insisted on taking their time. Pawing at her breasts, groping her in some cursory rote map of hand here, mouth there, rotate and squeeze, they seemed to expect would elicit noise and excitement—as if she wanted those things. As if those rough, cursory fumblings did anything but swell her disgust.