Fractured Refuge

by Annabelle McInnes

  Nick instantly jerked in his hold, but Euan would not relent.

  He would never have Nick’s internal shadows pull him from the truth of their love. He would never have Nick underestimate his primal need to protect and revere. It did, and would continue until the last breath left his lungs, it override all other considerations.

  Unrepentantly, Euan forced his tongue past Nick’s tight lips. Nick retaliated and bit the invasion with his front teeth. Euan sneered and answered the man’s aggression with violence of his own. He moved both hands until they fisted in Nick’s clean, blond waves and yanked without remorse.

  It was Nick’s turn to grumble in displeasure. But as Euan’s lips, tongue and intentions began to chip away at the blood lust that had overridden Nick’s usual optimistic nature, the tension left his body. It flowed from his muscles like water, until a green-eyed young man was left in the monster’s wake.

  Euan inhaled, taking in scent of earth, pine and man into the marrow of his bones. It cleansed his soul for the violence that was to come.

  He used Nick’s hair to pull him back once he was convinced he understood his intentions. ‘Love you. Never forget it. Won’t let you lose yourself in this, yeah?’

  As Nick’s gaze cleared, his mouth firmed in an agitated line, but he agreed with a jerk of his head. Euan broke their eye contact, content in Nick’s state of mind, and clutched his rifle. He positioned the stock of the weapon against his shoulder for maximum visual and tactical impact and took a deep steadying breath.

  Fate would have no hand in this. He alone would drive the direction. He alone would see this to its completion.

  He, alone, would carry the scars on his soul.

  Chapter 3

  The wind blew. It whistled through the trees. Long, elongated branches groaned, a voiceless moan of grief. The mist swirled and dissipated. The forest inhaled and held its breath.

  Euan rose to his feet. The lacings tight on his combat boots. His protective vest constricted his breathing. He raised his rifle high and rested his finger on the trigger. His joints creaked with the cold. The heady scent of earth and woodland filled his nostrils and the rich oxygen fuelled his blood.

  His eyes narrowed as the dense undergrowth parted. His focus remained steadfast with every step. The sharp brushwood scratched at his waterproof fatigues, gnarled fingers eager for purchase. Nick rose from his location behind him, a warm presence that was closer than a shadow, a phantom waiting for a command.

  Together, they moved from the gloom and into the light.

  The intruder’s shoulders fell as he huffed. It was the only physical alteration he gave, his eyes clear and unsurprised by their presence. It was obvious that though he may not have known they were had been hiding so close, he had expected they would come.

  Euan stopped when he was clear of the undergrowth. Only rotting logs and leaf litter now hindered his path. Every sense was attuned to his surroundings. He waited until Nick was at his side.

  Both men tightened the grips on their weapons when the intruder parted his feet and spread his arms wide. His palms faced toward the sky in supplication, but Euan was not fooled. The woman retreated to the scrub, and the man twitched. Nick blew out a long, slow breath.

  Euan’s attention flickered. Ratty, dark hair was visible through the branches. Sunken eyes were uncertain and glittered with fear in the morning light. The iron ball in his stomach expanded. It took up residence, settled, and began to nauseate him. He swallowed the saliva that pooled in his mouth.

  He scanned the area around them and searched the murky shadows. He couldn’t shake the thought that this was a planned manoeuvre, that there were masked men hidden in the trees. A hush fell over the grove. He waited and watched.

  ‘I beg for your help,’ their adversary stated simply, no emotion lacing his voice. But his face implored for clemency.

  Euan narrowed his eyes, frowned and scanned the trees once again. He spoke only after long, tense moments. ‘I want you on the ground, facedown, hands outstretched.’

  The man nodded and moved to do as he was bid. It was a difficult exercise. The leaf litter, fallen branches and numerous stones that covered the earth hindered his intent. As they observed, he managed, until his body was stretched out as if to be crucified on the pungent earth.

  ‘You’re dead,’ Nick muttered, teeth gritted as he shoved past Euan to where the pliant man lay. He pushed the barrel of his weapon into the back of his skull where greasy blond hair hid the tip of the barrel. Nick forced the man’s face further into the dirt and cut off his ability to breathe.

  The bushes parted and Euan jerked. His heart thundered as his weapon swung towards the noise. His palms were greasy as his finger squeezed the trigger. But it was the wraith who dashed from the trees.

  Unrepentant, unafraid and silent, she forced Nick’s gun from the man’s head and covered his prone body with her own.

  Three men swore. Nick was forced to retreat.

  A muffled admonishment came from dirt. But she was undeterred. Matted clumps of dark hair spilled over the broad shoulders. Naked white knees and feet covered only in a pair of olive green military-issued socks were pressed tight against her wasted frame. The man disobeyed the order of compliance and gripped her calf in his fist. His knuckles were as pale as her skin.

  Euan breathed through his displeasure and tried not to growl. His lips formed a firm line and his jaw solidified into granite. Nick’s interference meant he had no other option. He shouldered his weapon and bent. He wrapped his arms around the woman’s middle and pulled her from her protective duty.

  Christ, she was skin and bone. She struggled in a desperate, silent wiggle. Under his palms, her ribs were as prominent as if snakes held her chest together. Her arms that pushed against him were no thicker than the oak saplings that surrounded them and her legs that kicked held no more muscle than his forearm.

  Euan’s heart constricted inside his chest. A flash of memory blindsided him. Another half-starved woman under his care, listless over his shoulder as he ran through long grass for his life.

  ‘Please don’t hurt her,’ the blond man pleaded from the ground. His voice was muffled, his hands were held up in entreaty, his body vibrated with the need to protect.

  Euan ignored his plea and forced the disturbingly silent woman towards Nick. ‘Take her inside. Now.’

  When they passed the woman between them, their eyes met and held. Nick felt it too. The protruding bones, the malnourished frame, the weakness. Nick was gentle as he held her against him. When he pulled her close, it was for nothing more than to share the heat of his body.

  But as he passed, he spat at the man on the ground.

  Euan cocked a brow but didn’t comment. He folded his arms across the large expanse of his chest. ‘It could be a trap,’ he told Nick. ‘She could be a trap. Take precautions, yeah?’

  Nick nodded. His features were contorted in anger. His eyes were bright with the desire for justice. No further words were uttered as he turned his back on them and stalked awkwardly out through the creaking trees. The wretch squirmed in his arms.

  It was a number of silent heartbeats before Euan directed his focus back to the man on the ground.

  ‘Roll over,’ he ordered.

  The prisoner was slow to comply. The sound of his panting was loud in the quiet. Euan’s heart slowed, the immediate threat of death had dissipated, but not the unease that clogged his senses. The unknowns were still insurmountable and his instincts implored him to be wary, cautious.

  As the seconds stretched into minutes, the man’s gasps for air rapidly escalated. His muscles trembled as he struggled to obey. Euan was patient and waited until the artic eyes finally saw the sky.

  The man had changed significantly since the last time Euan had seen him. The solid lines of his face had hollowed and the innocence of youth had been eviscerated. But it wasn’t just the corporeal changes, despite the indications that trauma and malnourishment had changed the man irrevocably. No, it was the
slash of visible terror that contorted his young features. His chest puffed underneath the torn sweater and a jerky hand moved to clasp the fabric at his throat.

  It was obvious and yet still surprising.

  A panic attacked had castrated the man. He was vulnerable, defenceless, weak. No weapon. No muscle, and held immobile by fear.

  ‘I should just kill you,’ Euan sneered.

  The man nodded in agreement. Euan’s sneer turned into a smirk.

  He returned his focus back to the trees. ‘This a trick?’

  The man trembled and shook his head. In the sea of ice visible through the mist, Euan saw the truth. His helplessness was debilitating, and he knew it. Unable to protect himself and his woman, he’d been forced to give her away. An irreplaceable treasure handed over without argument to two fortune hunters. His tangible panic crippled him. Vicious in the takeover of his body, he was unable to stop the oncoming train of fate.

  ‘Please—’ he breathed through his dread.

  Euan shook his head in disgust. ‘Get up.’

  The man struggled, his anxiety overriding the control of his muscles, body, faculties. He briefly considered it a blessing to take the man from his misery. A single bullet wouldn’t cause prolonged distress.

  But he needed answers.

  Everything about this made no fucking sense.

  He bent to assist the man to his feet with a grip at the filthy clothes at his nape and grunted in annoyance. The shove forward was unnecessary but satisfying. ‘Last time I saw you, you stood by Mickey-O who threatened to kill what’s mine. You threw me into a pit to see me die for sport.’

  The man’s knees shook as he looked over his shoulder to meet Euan’s gaze. ‘It was necessary.’

  Euan growled, ‘Necessary?’

  ‘It’s complicated,’ he wheezed.

  ‘I bet it is,’ Euan muttered as he pointed the rifle in the direction of the house. ‘Walk.’

  As he marched, the man’s shoulders twitched constantly. He stumbled and slipped in what should have been easy enough terrain to navigate. The morning lengthened, the shadows reduced and the light increased, yet he still struggled. His raw palms clenched and unclenched with every step.

  It was almost impossible to comprehend how he had ended up in this forest, unmolested and intact, when even the compassionate side of Euan contemplated euthanasia. Only horrors he had endured at Mickey-O’s side could destroy a soul at completely.

  Euan needed answers, but as they emerged through the trees towards the homestead, the thought of inflicting further pain on the lowlife sat uncomfortably in his gut.

  The silence between them was broken with a plea. ‘Please don’t hurt her.’

  Euan grunted. ‘She’s no longer your concern. You should worry about yourself.’

  The man turned his head over his shoulder, an expression of entreaty frozen on his face. Euan cocked a dark eyebrow and pushed the barrel of his rifle between shoulderblades that continued to tremble. The vulnerable body was compelled forward. Euan held no regret.

  Chapter 4

  The garage was a separate building to the house. It still accommodated two cars, no more than dusty aluminium shells. Everything of use had been stripped years before. The building itself had become an extended storage and drying room since Euan and Nick’s arrival. The smell of dried lavender, herbs and spices accosted them as they entered to wooden structure.

  Euan immediately moved to the side wall where a number of looped lengths of rope hung in the ordered chaos.

  ‘Hands out.’

  The man kept his eyes trained on his adversary. There was no audible answer as he stepped forward and did as he was bid. Bloodless knuckles were visible under layers of filth as his two fists were bound with the rope. Euan savoured pulling the cord unnecessarily tight.

  He kicked out a plastic chair, stained yellow from exposure to the weather and pointed. ‘Sit.’

  The man swallowed. His uncertain gaze flickered between Euan and the chair. His chest had ceased its hard-won grasp for air. His cheeks flushed with relief when the object took his weight.

  A burning ember of unease was lodged in Euan’s throat. Various elements of the pair’s intrusion made the searing lump sizzle and grow, but one particular component was causing him the most discomfort.

  ‘She didn’t cry out,’ he reproved. ‘Not a sound. A scream, beg. Nothing.’

  His blond hair was held in a topknot. It bobbed as the man nodded. His corded throat worked in effort to draw down moisture into his dry mouth. Blue held brown when the whisper came. ‘She’s mute.’

  Silence reigned between them. The chill of the air whistled through Euan’s nose and filled his chest. Neither man blinked.

  A muscle in Euan’s jaw ticked. ‘Mute?’

  His question was followed by an audible swallow and a tongue that wet cracked lips. ‘Trauma,’ he stated without elaborating.

  Euan let a feral grin split his features; he knew his teeth were visible through the onyx beard that covered the lower half of his face. He squatted on his haunches, so that he was at relative eye to eye with his captive. ‘You wanna know why I’ve only tied your wrists?’

  The man was clever. He answered only with silence and narrowed eyes.

  Euan finished regardless. ‘I could kill you with just the pressure of my two palms.’ He held up his hands for emphasis. ‘Crush your skull using only these. You’ve seen what I’m capable of. I could outrun you, outmanoeuvre you, outwit you, overpower you. You’re defenceless. I’ve got your girl too, and to get the information I want, I’m not afraid to use anything I have in here to make you talk.’

  Despite the frigid air, sweat began to bead on the man’s brow. ‘You’ll kill me as soon as I talk.’

  Euan nodded solemnly. ‘Probably,’ he agreed. ‘Tell me why she’s mute.’

  The man closed his eyes, hung his head and nodded. It was long moment before a response came in the form of two wet tear stains that bloomed on the faded and worn fabric of his fatigues.

  Euan hardened his jaw and forced his consciousness from feeling compassion.

  ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me …’ His labouring wheezes became increasingly aggressive. ‘I can’t... I can’t even breathe!’

  Euan retreated when the man lurched from his chair. He was prepared to pummel the agitated captive into submission until he realised the attack was not directed at him.

  The man’s bound hands moved to the mass of greasy, matted hair on his head. He pulled on it viciously until it was wrenched out of its topknot. The weight accumulated around his bony shoulders. Trapped, he faced an adversary twice his weight. It made no difference. He tilted his face towards the low ceiling, and bellowed a cry of anguish.

  The horror behind the wail had Euan take a step back.

  His concern rose as the young man spun around. In a single step, he was before Kira’s wooden workbench. Sobs accompanied violence. He tore and ripped. He destroyed the remnants of Kira’s outdoor escapades. He pulled bunches of drying lavender from the rafters, scattered bowls of seeds, threw tools and wire, nuts and bolts. His chest heaved and moans of torment wracked his body. He kicked at mechanical spare parts and planks of wood that leant against the walls with boots that had holes where his toes poked through.

  Euan avoided the flying debris. A deep crease embedded in his brow as the man disintegrated before him. Realisation came slowly. What he was witnessing was not an act. This rage was a mask to hide an abundance of terror and anxiety that was playing out as physical rage. Feelings of torment, abandonment, mistreatment and grief were layered behind walls of fury that this man probably didn’t even understand.

  Even more disturbing was that Euan had seen this heightened level of instinctual emotion before. When men suffered severe abuse beyond their ability to cope … this was the result.

  Finally, the man’s cries diminished, and his aggression subsided. His entire body trembled with fatigue and lack of nourishment.

  ‘You do
ne?’ Euan asked once all the strength had melted from the man’s body. Even his bound hands could no longer clench.

  At Euan’s words, the man’s blue eyes scanned the destruction. His chest continued to heave. A look of remorse flashed across wan features. He nodded.

  ‘Sit,’ Euan demanded again, pointing his chin at the chair that had been kicked over.

  The man righted the chair and sat, shoulders still shuddering as he did so. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, elbows to knees, in a desperate attempt to hold his emotion at bay.

  Euan surveyed the mess but dismissed it when the dam finally broke. In a chair made of plastic, dressed in clothes that sat loosely on a ravaged body, the nameless man began to purge his demons.

  Silent tears and shuddering breaths. Lips were wet from what ran from his nose. Whatever had brought him to Euan’s door had torn him irrevocably. If he’d been at Mickey-O’s side for any length of time, there was no doubt in Euan’s mind this was an inevitable reaction for any man with a soul.

  Euan approached when the sobs subsided. When sniffles replaced tears, he knelt. The arctic eyes that met his were red-rimmed and bloodshot. Euan swallowed. The pain that was visible radiated out powerfully. It hit him in the chest. The face that held those traumatised eyes was young, too young for the soul to be this scarred.

  ‘How bad they hurt her?’ he asked, keeping his voice low, uninflected.

  Blue eyes held his. ‘I don’t know. But I know they hurt her family. In front of her.’

  Euan’s gut twisted. The scents were more powerful now. The herbs were more pungent. Lavender and rosemary, thyme and mint. They reminded him of Kira. Her guileless features untainted innocence. It was a precious and rare treasure. The mute woman was now the norm. ‘And you came here.’ It was not a question.

  The man answered anyway. ‘I followed you after you left Nirvana. I was ordered to watch you. When, when she became … when she was …’ Euan knew the man struggled to articulate the concept of sexual slavery politely for him.