Taken (The Condemned Series Book 2)

by Alison Aimes

  The big man barely spoke, much less raised his voice, which meant something was very wrong.

  They nearly collided round the next corner.

  “What’s happened?” Valdus could barely force the words out. Somehow, he knew.

  “They’ve taken her.”

  41

  Ava woke with a gasp, her mind fuzzy, her limbs sluggish.

  With a groan, she fought to lift her chin. Bile rocketed up her throat, her temple throbbing as if her head had been the chew toy of a sabanther.

  “Rise and shine, breeder.”

  Recent memories clicked into place.

  Palms flat on the dry, hard ground, she rolled right and dry heaved until her throat was raw.

  “Such drama.” The tip of one massive black boot nudged her hip.

  Numerous menacing chuckles rolled through the room.

  Snarling, she looked up and up and up.

  Draeke loomed above.

  This close he was even more terrifying. His massive bulk blotting out everything else. His arms thicker than her thighs. His neck so wide she doubted she could wrap both hands around it. His eyes, two swirling black holes that sucked in all the light.

  “Valdus will find me.”

  “Not fast enough.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  He kicked her thigh. A warning more than anything. Still, it stung.

  She stifled a gasp. Monsters like Draeke and Hollisworth relished pain. She refused to give either the satisfaction. Instead, she tried to count the number of men at Draeke’s back. Had to be at least thirty.

  Against one. Not great odds.

  But Valdus would be coming. His men, too. She had no doubt. The plan might have shifted some with her capture, but as long as she could keep herself in the belly of the planet and draw Hollisworth to her, the end result would still be the same: war.

  “You were harder to catch than expected.” Her new captor’s smug voice interrupted her plotting. “But I knew I’d get you in the end. A pardon is worth any sacrifice. Don’t you agree, soldier?”

  The nearby smack of flesh against flesh drew her attention.

  A muffled groan sounded from the corner.

  Turning, her eyes widened with horror.

  Pratt was strung between two rocks, his arms spread wide. A crowd of Draeke’s enforcers surrounded him, their fists raised, their expressions twisted with sick pleasure. Near the front was Yellow Eyes from the transport hold, his stare locked on her. As if he’d been waiting for her all this time.

  Goose bumps rose on her skin.

  “Let Pratt down.” She surged upward.

  Draeke’s heavy boot landed between her two shoulders. She smashed to the ground, chin first.

  “No one told you to rise.” The pressure of his heel dug into her back, increasing until she couldn’t breathe. Until she was sure her spine would snap, her ribs crumble.

  Her nails dug frantically into the rock looking for purchase.

  Without warning, the pressure lessened.

  She sucked down a sharp breath.

  There wasn’t a part of her that didn’t ache. But she’d been here before. Been molded and reformed to withstand exactly this kind of monster.

  “He earned this punishment.” Draeke resumed his initial conversation, his heel resting casually on her back. “I gave him explicit instructions. Knock you out with the sleeping agent. He chose to use his fist instead—and risked losing me my chance at a full pardon.”

  “Th-that was my fault. I refused to take it.”

  “Refused?” He laughed. “Refusal means you have a will to refuse with. That was his first error, allowing you that belief. He won’t make that mistake again.” The pressure of Draeke’s boot increased once more. “Neither will you.”

  She pressed her lips together to keep from crying out.

  Then, miraculously, the boot left her back.

  She was just drawing in a relieved breath when rough hands tangled in her hair and wrenched her to her feet.

  Stifling a whimper this time proved impossible.

  Hands flying to her roots to lessen the pressure, she scrambled to stay upright.

  Even dangling on her toes, she barely reached the monster’s chest.

  “Lucky for you both,” he continued, “you seem none the worse for wear.” Like a puppet on a string, he turned her face to the right and then the left, her efforts at resistance no match against his superior strength. “Your husband will be pleased.”

  “Whatever he promised you, he won’t deliver.”

  “P-please master…set me…free.” Pratt’s pleading echoed through the room.

  Despite what he’d done, her heart broke for the man.

  “Yes, please.” She didn’t bother hiding the shake from her voice. “Let him go and I’ll cooperate.”

  “Oh, you’ll definitely cooperate.” The hand in her hair lowered to his thigh, forcing her to bend at the waist, her eyes even with his cock. Jutting out from a nest of black curls, it was as massive as the rest of him.

  Her hand slipped from her hair to her thigh, creeping toward her pocket. She’d cut that thing from his body before she let him shove it in her mouth.

  But before she could act, he jerked her to his side and started forward.

  Any relief she might have felt at her reprieve tempered by his next ominous words. “But, first, it’s time to set your little friend free. As promised.”

  Nothing about his phrasing sounded comforting.

  Dragging her feet, she fought to stand up right, dread rising. “No!”

  It didn’t make a bit of difference. Her captor didn’t even slow, yanking her along as he used her hair as a leash, keeping her bent at the waist as she stumbled to keep up. Her limited vision allowing her to glimpse a handful of boots and then the flash of an ax as it was passed between Yellow Eyes and Draeke.

  Her fear grew.

  The weapon disappeared from view and she knew her captor had raised it high.

  “Oh, Janus. No. Please.” Snapping her chin upward, ignoring the painful rip of hair at her scalp, her gaze locked with Pratt’s.

  Relief glittered in his gaze.

  He knew what was coming. Craved it.

  Because he didn’t know anything else was possible. Because he thought death was the only way to end his suffering and be set free.

  She’d been like that once. Before Valdus had shown her the stars. Before he’d shown her that there was so much more to live for than escape through death.

  Had she really considered throwing that away for a freedom that would mean nothing without him by her side?

  She fumbled once more for her pocket.

  The silver head of the ax flashed, burying deep in her colleague’s lungs.

  “No!” She sobbed, even knowing it was too late.

  Blood bubbled from his mouth, soaking the ground.

  “Pratt! Oh, Janus.”

  He jerked in his bonds and, though she wanted to turn away, wanted to close out the horror and slip away as she had so many times before, she didn’t. Because the woman she was now didn’t run from the horrors of monsters anymore.

  Her eyes remained locked with Pratt’s until the light left his.

  Then, mercifully, he was still. Silent. Finally, at peace.

  Around her, a feral roar of delight shook the room.

  “Too fast.” Contempt sharpened Draeke’s voice. “He was always weak.”

  “You bastard!” Sickened, she fought to weaken the monster’s hold, her scalp protesting with every vicious yank. But cold logic had returned and she knew better than to draw her weapon now. Not without an escape plan or a clear kill shot. Valdus had warned her. “You didn’t have to do that. He…he wasn’t a threat to you.”

  “He was weak—and the weak are always a threat.” He shook her once. Hard enough to set her teeth rattling. “Enough! Unless you want to join him, you’ll shut up and come quietly.”

  She didn’t really think he’d kill her, but another wave o
f nausea made it all too easy for him to pull her deeper down the corridor, the ax stained with her colleague’s blood dragging behind in Draeke’s other hand, the discordant sound of metal clanging against rock a sickening dirge for the dead man they were leaving without a backward glance.

  Her heart twisted.

  She forced herself to focus on those she could still save.

  Because she was standing her ground this time around. Eradicating the sickness that was her husband before he destroyed anyone else. For herself. For the man she loved. For those who mattered to him. For all those who couldn’t fight for themselves.

  A welcome sense of calm descended.

  No matter what happened next, her husband would never encounter the frightened, broken creature she’d once been. That person had died in the belly of Dragath25 and been reborn, shaped by the furnace of hell into something far more resilient.

  She would survive what was coming. And she knew, without a doubt, that she wouldn’t have to do it alone. Somehow, someway, Valdus would find her.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  Silence.

  Sadly, she knew this drill well.

  She tried again. “I know Hollisworth promised you freedom, but he’s lying. He’ll never let you live. Not with all you could share about this place. About his developing technology.”

  “What? You mean I can’t trust him?” Draeke’s hold on her hair tightened as if punishing her for such stupidity. His men, following closely behind, laughed like jackals.

  He jerked her along faster.

  She stumbled, hurrying to keep up.

  “Then what’s your plan? You want to feel the air on your skin one more time, is that it?”

  He jerked her upright, his hot breath wafting across her cheek. “I want a lot more than that.” Fierce determination glittered in his black gaze. “I’m not dying down here. No way. No how.” He shook her again. “You’re not the only one with dreams of freedom, breeder.”

  She studied him. Saw the flare of intelligence in his gaze and realized that even a monster like him had a story. A past. A hope for his future.

  But it wouldn’t matter in the end. Not against her husband. “So, you’ll die up there instead?” she asked, her voice weary.

  “I’m not dying, period.” He resumed his march, jerking her back down again, like some kind of dog, indifferent to the bruises he was leaving in his wake.

  She stifled a scream.

  “I saw how you saved the Commander and his men. Your husband can’t kill me as long as I’ve got you as my shield. Once I’m close enough,” he squeezed the handle of the ax still stained with Pratt’s blood, “I’ll thank him the same way I did your weak friend. Then, you and I will have the time to really get to know each other.”

  She forced herself to think past the fear and pain. He clearly didn’t know it was possible to neutralize the tracker or he would be demanding the serum. At least Pratt had kept that much from his killer. “You don’t think Hollisworth has planned for just that kind of attack?”

  “Then I guess we’ll just see who wants it more. Him or me?” The grim determination in Draeke’s voice was terrifying. Like so many down here, he had nothing left to lose. “But my money is on me. Council has grown fat, lazy, entitled. While I’ve had to scrounge for everything. Build myself up from nothing. Unlike him, I deserve to be on top.”

  She eyed him anew. So this man aspired to take Hollisworth’s place. To be not just the ruler of the dregs of Dragath25, but all of New Earth as well.

  It was a good reminder. Even after one tumor was destroyed, there’d always be others clamoring to take its place.

  The fight would never end.

  “Here we are.” Draeke’s pronouncement jarred her from her thoughts, her scalp stinging anew as he jerked her onto her toes once more.

  Panting hard, she looked around—and recognized the place instantly.

  The first corridor. With the transport hold.

  How fitting. She was back where it had all begun. The big cavernous hall with its stained red rocks and huge steellike doors. Where she’d first tried to run from Valdus.

  Now, she prayed with everything in her that he’d find her once the time was right.

  A loud whirring sound vibrated through the room. Its origins, the elevator shaft.

  From out of nowhere, four droids zipped through the air to ring the doorway.

  Her heart slammed against her ribs, an acrid tang rising in her throat despite her earlier calm.

  Or maybe it was simply the stench of primal fear oozing from the big man next to her. A scent that grew stronger as more and more droids arrived, until there were at least twenty all buzzing round the entrance, their guns turned on the waiting crowd.

  “There’s still time to run,” she whispered.

  The big man stood taller, his chest puffing wide. “I’m done running. But don’t worry,” bravado lit Draeke’s dark gaze as he yanked her hard against him, his weapon rising to her throat, “you’ll be a widow soon. And I’ll be exactly where I was meant to be all along.”

  The doors slid open.

  42

  A line of Council guards marched forward, their bodies encased in the latest grey security technology, their advanced laser weapons held high.

  Beside them, Draeke’s ragtag group of barely dressed men with axes looked awfully ill-equipped. Yellow Eyes cursed low.

  She was suddenly thankful Valdus and his men weren’t with her.

  Another line of Council soldiers appeared behind the first line. Then another.

  Hollisworth was taking no chances.

  The sharp prick of the ax edge dug deeper into her neck.

  Draeke was taking no chances, either.

  “Anyone shoots and she dies.” His big voice boomed through the room.

  The sea of soldiers parted.

  Hollisworth swept forward between them, his fine alabaster silk robe billowing behind, a perfect accompaniment to the white-blond hair that glowed like a halo atop his head, two shocks of purity against so much bleak grey and crimson red. His too-sharp cheekbones and regal nose leading the way as he moved, as hard and cold and perfect as ever.

  Was it any wonder the desperate wanted to believe he was their savior?

  She could still remember the first moment she’d seen him. How she’d trembled with gratitude to think that she’d been chosen by such a being to bear his offspring. Those around him had spoken of him like he was a God. One who would bring New Earth back from the edge of destruction and save the deserving. One who’s perfect beauty extended all the way to his interior. It had taken less than a single rotation in his presence for her to glimpse the dark, twisted monster lurking at his core.

  “Hello, bride.” Triumph tightened every too-beautiful line of his face. And in his hand, a familiar, twisted birch cane.

  Her stomach twisted. His punishment stick.

  Unlike Valdus, who’d toiled over a weapon meant to save her, Hollisworth had commissioned a lash reserved specifically to hurt and control her.

  Their gazes locked.

  She snapped her spine ruler straight. “You look smaller than I remember.”

  Fury swept across his face, turning his cheeks beet red and blotchy. A bad combination with his too-white hair.

  The unfavorable look on him gave her immense satisfaction.

  Even better, Draeke chuckled, his hold loosening a fraction.

  Hollisworth’s men, on the other hand, were clearly not amused. Tension crackling in the air as they shifted in their boots, their holds on their weapons tightening.

  Poor lackeys. They had no idea how to deal with such flagrant rebellion. No one on New Earth said such things to the Supreme Council and lived.

  But this was Dragath25.

  And she had some new rules.

  “Paler, too, I think.” She struck exactly where she knew it would hurt her vain husband the most. “That’s saying something considering I’ve been stuck down here.”

&nbs
p; Rage turned his skin purple.

  There was nothing he hated worse than others’ refusal to cower.

  Probably why he hated Valdus and his fellow Resistance fighters so much.

  “Silence!” The choked word flew from him. Spittle, too. More ugliness leaking out.

  “I don’t think so.” Had it always been this easy to subvert his will? All that time, true freedom had been within reach all along.

  “You’ll remember your place soon enough.”

  She thought of Valdus. Of the stars. Of all he’d shown her. “I know it already.”

  Hollisworth flicked a hand in her direction. “Bring her to me.”

  “Wait.” Draeke scurried back a step. “You want her? The exchange doesn’t happen until we’re on the surface.”

  “No.” Her husband didn’t hesitate. “You give her to me now. Then, we deal.”

  His front line of men kept coming.

  “No.” Despite his bravado, Draeke’s grip was increasingly slick with sweat. “Tell them to stay where they are or she dies now.”

  “Kill her and I can promise you, everything you’ve suffered until now will seem like child’s play.”

  “M-master?” Yellow Eyes sounded unsure. One heartbeat from abandoning his post.

  This was not how she needed this to go down.

  “It’s not up to him.” Taking charge, she wrapped her hands around Draeke’s weapon, pressed it deeper into her own skin. “We go to the surface. Now.”

  Whatever happened next, she already felt as if she’d won. As if she were free. And it comforted her to know that no matter what happened, she’d neutralized the trackers and given Valdus and his men a critical tool necessary to escape.

  Unlike Draeke and his men, her crew wouldn’t be dogged by the droids and unable to fight back. Instead, they’d be free to unleash all the hell and fury they had inside.

  Even if she wasn’t here to see it.

  “What are you doing?” Draeke’s surprised jerk sent the weapon deeper into her skin.

  She stifled a curse. Warm liquid rolled down her neck to pool in her collarbone.

  Hollisworth’s nostrils flared, his gaze locking on the splash of crimson. “Stop.” His order froze his men in place. “You want to negotiate, bride? Fine. We deal here.”