Redemption (Men of Honor Book 2)

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Redemption (Men of Honor Book 2) Page 17

by Michelle Horst


  “They’re innocent. Please, let them go,” Josh cries out as he tries to free himself from the restraints.

  “Innocent.” The word is spit into the air, and my eyes dart in the direction it came from. Boots scuff on the concrete floor.

  I see a pale skinned man, and my eyes widen with fear. It makes sweat bead along the back of my neck.

  His neck, jaw and cheeks are covered with rubbery skin that looks like a burn wound. The burned skin makes his left eye drag downwards. He’s tall and skinny and seems to be walking with a limp.

  My skin crawls at the sight of him. His dark eyes find mine and he gives me a malicious grin that makes my stomach sink to the floor.

  That’s when I think of it for the first time … death. This man wants to kill me and he’s going to enjoy doing it.

  All I can hear is my thundering heart and short, panicked breaths.

  My whole body goes numb with a suffocating fear as he continues to stare at me.

  “There’s no such thing,” he spits the words out, and for a sluggish moment my brain struggles to understand what he’s saying.

  The man turns his cruel eyes on Josh and then he says, “How does it feel, Mr. Woods?” He throws his arms wide and sneers hatefully, “Your family is at my mercy.”

  “Let them go, Volkov,” Josh says. It sounds more like a hopeless whimper. “They have nothing to do with this. Your business is with me.”

  The man nods and he actually looks deep in thought, as if he’s considering Josh’s plea. But then he shakes his head again.

  He snaps his fingers. “Dmitri!”

  A man dressed in a crisp, black suit walks towards Josh. It’s only then that I notice the other two men as well. They all have heavy looking guns tucked into a strap that rests under their left arms. They look professional and calm.

  Dmitri stops in front of Josh. He’s carrying a cracked old bowl.

  The scarred man, who I now know is called Volkov, seems to be the one in charge. He flicks his wrist, motioning to the bowl. “I’ll give you something you never gave me, Mr. Woods. You were a coward when you bombed my daughter’s wedding. You show no remorse for taking her life, for taking the life of my son and wife.” He covers his mouth, needing a moment to compose himself and I can see the grief clearly etched into the lines of his face.

  Josh hurt this man?

  My big brother … my hero took people’s lives?

  Horrified, my eyes dart to Josh. The last bit of spit in my mouth dries up and my tongue feels heavy. I take in a shuddering breath and feel the chain bite into my neck. It reminds me of the horrible position I’m in, of the hopeless situation my family is in – all because of something Josh did to this man.

  Before I can try to process what my brother has done, the man continues, “You will find four items in the bowl, Mr. Woods. Choose one.”

  Josh shakes his head. “I won’t choose,” he sobs.

  Dmitri shoves the bowl into Josh’s face and growls at him.

  “Choose, Mr. Woods, or your family will die the same way mine did.”

  A hopeless sound escapes Josh’s throat, and in horror I hear him whisper, “Blade.”

  My left foot twists painfully as it gives way. For a frightful moment the chain rips the breath right from my lungs. My fingers dig into the steel as I try to pull it away from my throat. A hoarse cry escapes my lips but I finally manage to find my footing again, giving myself the precious inch I need to suck in the life-giving air. My left foot is burning with a sharp pain, but I force myself to remain standing on it. I don’t want to be suffocated again.

  I’m so confused and scared. It feels as if my perfect life has been blown apart and I can’t make sense of all the pieces left in the chaos.

  I’ve forgotten about the huge man who hit me until he comes from somewhere behind me. He walks towards Dad and then the gleam of the knife in his right hand grabs my attention.

  “Please don’t!” Josh starts to beg. “Kill me anyway you want to, just please … don’t hurt them.”

  “No,” the word is a harsh breath over my lips as the realization hits hard. The man is going to kill Dad.

  I once heard that hope is the heartbeat of the soul. Whoever wrote that is so very wrong.

  Hope gives you a false sense of security.

  Hope lets you live in denial.

  Hope sets you up for the fall.

  Hope only prolongs the suffering.

 

 

 


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