Darkest Before Dawn

by Maya Banks

  different than the monster who’d brutalized Honor and countless others. He didn’t want to be that man anymore. He wanted to be a man Honor would have been proud of. He wanted to be worthy of her. He wanted to be like her.

  “You deserve no mercy for what you have wrought,” Hancock said in a voice that seethed with both anger and grief. “But I am better than you. And I won’t lower myself to your standards. I will not become you.”

  He turned, sparing only a quick glance at the men who’d stood guard. Who’d saved Honor. Who even now were prepared to turn their back on what he wanted to do to Maksimov and swear ignorance of his fate. Good men whom he would have dragged into hell with him if he’d carried out his vengeance.

  “Hand him over to Resnick. I have no use for this pathetic piece of shit,” Hancock spat, ignoring the looks of surprise and . . . respect. He walked past them and kept walking, only wanting to be away from this place and the memories that burrowed insidiously into his mind. Closing his eyes to all he’d gained—and lost—in such a short amount of time. A lifetime.

  “Hey, hold up,” Rio said, jogging after his former teammate.

  Hancock stopped, but all he wanted to do was just go. To be left alone.

  “Want a ride to Honor’s place? By the time we get stateside, she’ll be at her family’s house.”

  For a moment he couldn’t breathe for the pain splintering through his body, heart, soul.

  “No,” he finally said in a low voice.

  Rio shot him a look of surprise. “What the fuck, man? You’re walking away?”

  Hancock turned on him, his features savage as anger rushed hot through his veins.

  “I betrayed her. I broke so many promises I can’t even count. I don’t deserve her and she certainly deserves a hell of a lot better than me. She hates me but not more than I hate myself.”

  “Don’t do this, man,” Rio said, his eyes dark with sympathy. “Don’t do something you’ll regret for the rest of your life.”

  “Too late,” Hancock bit out, and he turned and walked away.

  CHAPTER 42

  KYLE Phillips stood in the living room of Honor’s parents’ home facing her entire family. Her mother, father, four brothers and her sister. There was stark grief in their eyes because he knew they assumed the worst.

  The news had broken just the night before that the terrorist group responsible for the attack on the relief center Honor had volunteered at had been completely taken out by a joint U.S. special forces unit and SEAL teams. Her family was fully prepared to be told that their daughter’s death, although already broadcast over the news for endless days and nights immediately following the attack, could now be officially confirmed. There’d been no survivors, according to reports, though Honor’s body had never been returned. It was through that, that her family had clung stubbornly to hope. But now? They fully expected official confirmation of Honor’s death.

  After formally introducing himself, Kyle asked them to sit and waited until they complied before he said what he’d come to say. There was no easy or delicate way to say what he had to say, and he wasn’t one to tiptoe around an issue. It was a lot less time consuming to get straight to the point.

  “Your daughter is alive,” he said, no inflection to his tone as he took in all their faces and the sudden change from resignation to wary hope.

  There was complete silence. Stunned expressions. Shock. And then it seemed to register what he was telling them. Her mother burst into tears as did her sister. Her brothers rocked forward, faces in their palms, and her father went ashen.

  “W-what?” Mandie’s voice quivered as she stared at the Marine in disbelief. “But we were told she was dead. The whole country was told she was dead. It’s all the news has talked about since the attack on the relief center where she worked. What on earth are you saying?”

  “She survived,” Kyle said quietly. “I understand this comes as a shock . . .”

  He got no further before he was bombarded with questions.

  “Where is she?” Honor’s mother said hoarsely, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “Is she all right?” her father demanded. “Why isn’t she here? Why are you here and not her? What aren’t you telling us? Is she hurt?”

  “Why the hell weren’t we informed before now?” Brad bit out angrily, his eyes ablaze with relief but also suspicion.

  Kyle held his hands up to silence the torrent of conversation.

  “I need you to listen to everything I have to tell you. It’s very important and it’s why I arrived first. She’s on her way here now. She’s not very far out, but I needed to come ahead to . . . prepare you.”

  “Prepare us?” Honor’s mother whispered, her voice thick with tears, and now fear.

  Sensing the importance of what Kyle had to say, everyone went silent and leaned forward, concern etched into their every feature.

  Kyle gave them the details—most of them—of Honor’s escape and recapture. He gave an accounting of everything that had happened. Except anything relating to Hancock. Hancock was Honor’s to either reveal or not, but he’d not take that choice from her.

  “I had to force an IV on her while we waited until it was safe to reunite you with her. She gave up,” Kyle said in a pained voice. “She was fierce. Brave. Courageous. I’ve never met her equal. But in the end, it was simply too much. Too much pain and torture and worse, the final loss of hope that had kept her sustained for so long. She doesn’t believe I’m telling her the truth, that she’s free. She believes me to be taunting her—psychological torture—delaying her eventual physical torture and death that she’d come to accept. She’s broken, ma’am,” he said to her mother.

  In a quiet voice, he told them what they had already deciphered for themselves. “Your daughter is not the same young woman she was when she left here, and I want to prepare you for that. She’s retreated deep inside herself. She’s starved. Refuses to eat. I had to force the IV or she would have already died. She’s wounded in multiple areas, in multiple fashions. She’s going to need your love, support and, above all, your patience. She needs medical care. But most of all, she needs a reason to live.”

  “Oh my God. Oh my God,” her sister said, her sobs echoing through the room.

  “She’s alive!” one of her brothers exclaimed. “She’s coming home!”

  “We’ll help her,” her father vowed. “Whatever she needs. Whatever it takes. I will not have the miracle of my daughter back only to lose her again. I won’t let it happen.”

  “There is nothing I won’t do for my baby,” her mother said fiercely. “Nothing.”

  Kyle nodded. Yes, he thought. Her family would bring her back. He could see the love and resolve in their eyes. They were fierce. He could well see where Honor got it from.

  But who would save Hancock?

  • • •

  HONOR cautiously opened her eyes and then slammed them shut again, fear shuddering through her fractured mind. Hope—something she’d been denied time and time again until she’d refused to allow herself to even entertain it—was insidiously creeping through her veins, accelerating her pulse until she was nearly breathless. She shook her head. No. Not again. Never again. She’d given in to hope one last time and it had destroyed her completely. Some lessons were learned the hard way.

  When the SUV turned onto Oakwood Street, she lost any and all of her carefully constructed control and burst into tears. Her hands flew to her face, covering the guttural sobs tearing from her throat. She rocked back and forth as they drew closer and closer to . . . home.

  “Stop!” she cried. “Oh God, please stop!”

  The driver immediately slammed on the brakes and Honor bent over, putting her head between her knees as she struggled for breath, panic scraping her insides raw.

  Kyle Phillips, who had returned to their “waiting” point and slid into the seat beside her, giving the driver the order to go, put his hand on Honor’s back and rubbed up and down and then in gentle circular motions
.

  “Honor? Are you going to be sick? Are you all right? Come on, honey, you have to breathe for me.”

  “I can’t go in there,” she wept.

  She lifted her tear-drenched gaze to Kyle’s surprised one.

  “I don’t understand,” he said, clearly puzzled by her reaction. “They know you’re coming, Honor. It’s why I made you hang back. I wanted to prepare them. I didn’t want to just spring you on them.”

  “They can’t see me this way,” she cried. “Look at me!” She made a sweeping motion of her emaciated body, the still-healing wounds, the fading burn marks and the still very vivid gashes on her wrists, a match to the ones on her ankles, but at least those were hidden.

  “This will kill them,” she whispered. “I can’t do this, Kyle. Please, if you have any compassion, any mercy, you’ll tell them I’ll talk to them on the phone. And I’ll see them. After I heal. I’ll eat. I swear it. I’ll do whatever you tell me to do. But please, God, don’t make me go in there like this.”

  Kyle looked gutted, his eyes swamped with so much sympathy and understanding that it spurred another round of gut-wrenching tears.

  Gently, he pulled her upward and then into his arms, hugging her to his chest, rocking back and forth in a soothing manner.

  “I understand how you feel, Honor,” he said quietly. “I swear to you that I do. But, honey, they know what to expect.”

  “You told them?” she asked in a horrified voice.

  “Not everything,” he said even more gently. “Only what pertained to your physical and psychological condition. I never mentioned Hancock. That is yours to tell or not. But think of this from their point of view, Honor. They’ve just been told that the daughter they thought was dead is very much alive and will be home shortly. Of course they’re upset and angry that you endured so much. But what they want, what they need most right now, is to see you. To hold you. To have proof that you’re alive. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

  He tugged her away from his chest so he could cup her chin. He rubbed his thumb over her cheek and forced her to look into his eyes.

  “Now, show me the Honor Cambridge who escaped and evaded capture by the most powerful and ruthless terrorist group in the Middle East. You will not walk into your home ashamed with your head down. Your family is overcome with joy. They are even now counting the seconds and watching for our vehicle to pull into their driveway so they can see you. Touch you. Hold you. And tell you how very much they love you. Would you deny them that?”

  “No,” she choked out. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. You were kind to me, but I learned that betrayal follows kindness, and so I wouldn’t acknowledge you. I couldn’t. It was the only way I could survive because I couldn’t allow myself the one thing that had the power to completely destroy me. Hope.”

  “Shhh, you will not apologize. I would serve with you any day of the week, Honor Cambridge. You have the heart of a Marine, and that’s a fact. Now, can I tell Anthony to resume driving?”

  She smiled and then impulsively hugged him, craving what she’d long been bereft of. Human touch. Contact. Comfort. Not since . . .

  No, she wouldn’t go there. What she’d shared or rather what Hancock had taken from her didn’t count. Because it wasn’t real.

  As if sensing her need for that contact, humanity, he hugged her back ever so gently but no less encompassing and for long moments he merely held her, allowing her to clutch at him while she collected herself.

  Finally she pulled away and braced herself, and allowed hope and relief to flood the very depths of her hollow soul.

  Excitement began to burn as she caught sight of her house at the end of the cul-de-sac. She half expected her entire family to be on the front lawn waiting, but Kyle had said he’d gone ahead to prepare them, which likely meant he’d told them how fragile she was.

  When they pulled to a stop behind her mother’s familiar minivan, Honor sat, frozen to her seat as she hungrily drank in the sight of what she thought she’d never see again. Uncertainty gripped her and her palms grew sweaty, and she recognized the signs of yet another impending panic attack.

  Kyle reached over and took her hand, squeezing reassuringly.

  “I’ll be with you the whole time,” he said quietly.

  She smiled at him. Really smiled, and he seemed delighted.

  “Thank you,” she said sincerely.

  “Forgive the corny thing I’m about to say, but it has truly been an honor to know you, Honor Cambridge.”

  She squeezed his hand back and then drew in a deep cleansing breath, the wheeze floating away as her lungs opened fully, allowing her to breathe easy once more.

  “Let’s do this,” she said.

  CHAPTER 43

  CYNTHIA Cambridge threw up her hands, despair radiating from her eyes as she faced her family—minus Honor, who was holed up in the library, her sanctuary. Everyone had gathered. Brad had come from work, no questions asked. Keith had secured release from fall training from his team the minute he’d received the news of Honor’s return home, and he had yet to return. Tate and Scott owned multiple local businesses and both made their homes nearby so they had been there in minutes. Mandie, like Keith, had yet to return to her job.

  They all looked to their mother—wife—worry tight in their chests. Cynthia looked worn and haggard, so much grief in her expression that they all feared the worst.

  “This has to end,” Cynthia said, near tears.

  Mike, her husband, pulled his wife into his arms, his distress as great as hers, though he held it tightly reined because he sensed just how close his beloved wife was to her breaking point.

  “She’s not getting better. She’s sick. She won’t talk about it—anything.”

  “We knew this wouldn’t be easy, Mom,” Brad, her oldest son, said.

  He was in uniform and had come when his father had called, telling him he was needed at home. His deputies could hold down the fort in his absence. Family—his sister—was more important.

  “She’s recovering physically,” Tate said cautiously. “A breeze would have knocked her over when she first came back. She’s gained weight. She’s eating.”

  “I agree with Mom,” Mandie said firmly. “She’s recovering from her wounds, her injuries. In fact, you can barely see them. Except her wrists,” she added with a frown.

  The Marine who’d brought Honor home to them had said that her wrists and ankles had been so tightly manacled that the metal had to be pried from her flesh. But there were underlying wounds. Cuts that had been stitched. They didn’t know, but they suspected . . . However, no one ever mentioned it because it meant acknowledging just how bad it must have been for Honor to have tried to take her own life. And it was more than they could bear to have it confirmed that she’d been so desperate as to try to end her misery.

  “But she is sick,” Mandie continued. “Something’s wrong with her. She can’t keep anything down. She’s pale and so fragile. I’m worried. Really worried. I think we should take her to the doctor.”

  Her father sighed. Honor had refused to go back to the doctor after the preliminary examinations, treatments and vitamin regimen she’d been placed on. She’d refused counseling, even though all of them urged her to talk to someone, because she wasn’t talking to them. And if something didn’t give soon, she was going to shatter, and he wasn’t sure they’d get her back this time. If his wife and daughter planned to take Honor to the doctor, they were going to have one hell of a fight on their hands.

  “We’ve all been careful with Honor. Maybe too careful,” Cynthia acknowledged. “But now we have to present a united front and give her no choice. Mandie and I are taking her to the doctor. I’ve already called the clinic, and they’ll see her today.”

  “And you wanted us here for the extra muscle,” Keith said wryly.

  “No. For support,” his mother corrected. “We love her and I refuse to let her waste away into nothing. She may hate me, but at least she’ll be aliv
e to do it.”

  “I will never hate you, Mom,” Honor said quietly from the doorway of the kitchen.

  They had been so absorbed in their discussion and concern, they hadn’t heard Honor enter the kitchen.

  “I’m sorry I’ve worried you. All of you,” she added, sweeping her glance over each family member, sorrow and apology bright in her eyes. “If going to the doctor will ease your worry, then I’ll go. I’m sure it’s just a stomach bug or something. After everything else I’ve had happen, this hasn’t even registered on my radar,” she said honestly.

  Brad’s features darkened into a mask of hatred at the mention of all his sister had suffered. He was the sheriff, sworn to uphold the law and seek justice. By the book. But by all that was holy, if he could have gotten his hands on the bastards who’d tortured Honor, he’d have killed them in cold blood and suffered absolutely no remorse.

  “I’m going too,” Mandie said, sliding her arm through Honor’s and then offering her sister an affectionate squeeze. “No way I’d leave you to Mom’s mercy alone. She can be ruthless. She’ll probably have the poor doctor stammering his way through the exam.”

  Honor smiled. Mandie could defuse any situation with her wit and humor. It was one of the many reasons she loved her sister so dearly. She loved them all, and she realized, to her shame, that she wasn’t the only one suffering. She’d been selfish and self-absorbed while her family were clearly at their wit’s end.

  “I am sorry,” Honor said, sincerity ringing in her voice. “I didn’t mean to be such a burden to you all and worry you so much. I’ve been selfish.”

  Her mom rounded the corner of the island and caught Honor in a fierce hug.

  “You are not a burden. You are not selfish, and I won’t have you saying so. You’re our baby, Honor. The heart and soul of this entire family. Always the peacemaker, always the first one to smooth things over. The first to offer a hug. You’ve always known what everyone needs and given it without hesitation. You have the most generous heart of anyone I know. Of course we worry. Because of all people you didn’t deserve what happened to you!”

  Tears fell freely and Honor could no longer tell if it was her mother hugging her or Honor hugging her mother.

  And then Brad gently pried them apart and enveloped Honor in his arms. Always the big brother. Her protector. She’d been his shadow since the day she learned to walk as a toddler, and he’d never minded, had never been too busy for his baby sister. How she loved them all. She’d missed her family. The closeness. The unconditional love of a tight-knit family unit.

  “I’m angry,” he said in a low voice against her ear. “I see shit every day and nothing compares to what was done to you. Goddamn it, you of all people didn’t deserve this. You are everything that is good in this world, Honor. Not one of us could have done what you did. Give selflessly of yourself to help people no one else would help, knowing and accepting the risk, knowing it could mean your life. Burden? You are a gift, baby girl, and don’t you ever forget it. I love you above all others. I always will. From the day you were born, I knew you were something special and that you would accomplish great things. I just never imagined the sacrifices you would have to make in order to answer your calling.”

  Honor’s eyes watered, when she hadn’t cried since the first time she’d come home to her parents. She knew they worried that she was in denial. That she wasn’t dealing with her demons and only suppressing them. But the truth was, she was numb and grieving for what they knew nothing of. God, if only the torture and abuse were all she had to deal with. But she’d never get over Hancock and his betrayal. God help her, but she loved him still. After everything he’d done, the promises he’d broken, making love to her and making her believe he felt for her what she felt for him. She couldn’t bring herself to truly hate him, and that made her angry. Furious.

  “If we’re going to make the appointment, then we need to get moving,” her mother said briskly, wiping away her tears and slipping into mom mode. “I’ll expect the guys to take care of dinner tonight since my daughters and I won’t be back until late. They’re working her in as the last appointment of the day.”

  Tate gave a lazy grin. “I think we can handle that.”

  • • •

  TWO hours later, Honor walked numbly back into the waiting room where Mandie and her mother sat. Her mom hadn’t been pleased that Honor had insisted on seeing the doctor alone and so wasn’t privy to the doctor’s diagnosis. But Honor knew that her mom would have harangued the doctor and they would still be in the exam room if Honor hadn’t put her foot down and made her mother and sister wait outside.

  Her mom and sister immediately picked up on Honor’s somber, shocked demeanor, and they both bolted from their chairs and surrounded her immediately.

  “Baby, what’s wrong?” her mother demanded.

  Honor held up a shaking hand. It was all she could do to keep what little control she had in check and not shatter in front of the entire waiting room.

  “Please, not here,” she whispered. “Please, let’s just go home. I’ll tell you everything there. But not here. Please.”

  Her mom’s mouth set into a mutinous line, but Mandie, sensing how dangerously close Honor was to breaking down, wrapped a supportive arm around Honor’s waist and began walking out of the clinic and into the parking lot.

  “You drive, Mom,” Mandie said firmly. “I’ll sit in the back with Honor.”

  Honor squeezed Mandie’s hand when she slid into the backseat with Honor and offered her a silent thank-you that she knew held unshed tears.

  Mandie squeezed back and then whispered as their mother started the engine,