Captured by You

by Amber Hart

  “I don’t know what will happen when we face the pack in a few days,” he says. “If we face them. But I want you to know that, no matter what, I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  My lips press into his. He kisses me with the type of passion that says we don’t know if we’ll see tomorrow, that promises nothing but gives everything, because we only have this, here, now.

  “You are everything to me, Raven,” Jospin whispers against my lips. “Everything.”

  And I believe him.

  Jospin removes my shirt, and his fingers find my bra. Slowly, he lowers me to the bed, cool air caressing us both. My skin breaks out in gooseflesh as he removes my pants too. I lose myself in Jospin’s kisses as he sheds his clothes. He kisses down the center of my chest and then over my nipples. I reach for him, his skin hot against mine. He rolls my nipples between his fingers, making me moan.

  I want to taste him. I want to wash away all the layers of dirt and sweat and blood, until there is nothing but Jospin and me as one.

  “Come with me,” I say.

  Jospin follows as I lead him to the bathroom. I turn the shower on warm and pull the curtain back. As I step in, water hits my skin, washing away the dirt that stains me. I feel Jospin against my back and move slightly so that the water hits him too. He reaches for the bar of soap.

  “Let me wash you?” he asks.

  “Of course,” I reply.

  His fingers gently separate my hair and push it forward so that it falls over my breasts. He slowly runs the soap over my back and shoulders, massaging it in. My head dips under the stream; I’ve never had a shower like this.

  He parts my legs and bends to wash all the way to my feet. And then he turns me around and washes my front. I look him directly in the eyes. He takes his time, letting me enjoy the way he makes me feel. My cracked feet hurt when he rubs them, but I’m grateful for his soft touch.

  When I am clean, Jospin kisses me deeply and hands the soap to me. I want him to know that I cherish him. That this, what we have, has taken root inside me. That I’ve chosen him too. I wash his body as if I worship him. As if I love every freckle and scar and speck that makes him. I love the core of him more than I’ve loved anything in my life, and I don’t know any other way to say it than to take my time touching every part of him, until he too is clean.

  And then I kiss him the way he kissed me.

  He gives me hope in a way I didn’t know I needed. I have this part of me that—though our lives are in chaos—is utterly calm. I know without a doubt that, come what may, he will protect me above all. I can rely on Jospin. I count on him like I count on the stars to shine, and there is comfort in that.

  Jospin gently lifts me up against the shower ledge. It is the perfect height. He adjusts the showerhead so that it no longer sprays on us but on the curtain. The sound reminds me of rain against jungle leaves.

  He kisses the drops of water off my stomach until he’s not at my stomach anymore, because his lips reach the seam between my legs. I make myself sit perfectly still, though it feels like the hardest thing I’ve ever done. All I want to do is writhe against him, but he touches me so softly—as if I am precious—that I don’t want to miss this moment. I want to let him take all the time he needs.

  “Jospin.” I say his name and close my eyes as he licks me.

  He is gentle in his caress. He holds my thighs open, and I want nothing more than to have him bury himself deep inside me. When he presses just a little harder, working me faster, I begin to move, unable to control myself.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” I whimper.

  I open my eyes and train my gaze on Jospin. He looks up and locks eyes with mine.

  His stare says something like this:

  Love.

  Always.

  Mine.

  Jospin slips his fingers into me. He is gentle and rough and slow and fast, reading my body so perfectly. He knows exactly what I need. And I explode with colors. I scream his name and lose myself in the way he makes me feel.

  Jospin stands and moves the showerhead again, so that it hits us just slightly. Two steps and he is positioned in front of me, at my entrance. With a gentle hand, I guide him in. I kiss his cheeks and his forehead and his neck. I whisper how much I love him and what it means to me that he loves me too. I moan and press into him as he begins the perfect rhythm. I pick up on the beat and ride in tempo with his hips.

  This is me showing Jospin what my heart looks like.

  This is him giving me his soul.

  “I,” I say, panting, “love”—he groans—“you.”

  He presses faster and harder. The cool tile of the shower against my back is a euphoric contrast to the warmth of the water hitting my legs.

  Jospin tugs my nipples with his teeth. He squeezes my hips to the point of pleasurable pain. He rakes fingers over my skin and grips me tight.

  I clasp my hands behind his neck and bring his face to mine as the wave comes to carry me away again. I hold it off as long as I can, waiting for him to finish with me.

  I feel him begin to stiffen as I clench around him. He pounds into me relentlessly, and I beg him for more. I am absolutely at the top of the world, and in one, two, three seconds…

  I am free-diving off.

  And in four, five, six seconds…

  Jospin is there to catch me.

  Chapter 46

  Jospin

  We’ve been waiting two days for details, and so much has crossed my mind in that time. I fear that the officials will come back with bad news. But when they enter the office to find Raven, Clovis, Mattius, and me waiting for them, they have only a few words for us.

  “We have organized an armed group of fifty men,” Mr. Patterson says.

  Today he is dressed in a suit that reminds me of Father’s usual attire. His expression is serious—he means business. Raven sits tall next to me. She hears their decision just as I do, and she smiles. Because our evidence was enough to get them to act. And because I don’t have to turn myself in.

  “You will lead our men, as you offered,” he continues. “Are you still okay with that?”

  “Yes,” I answer.

  “Well,” he says, sitting on his desk. He takes a moment to look each of us over. “I wish you the best.”

  —

  The men around us are fully strapped with weapons—guns at their waists, their arms, their legs, hidden in boots. A belt of bullets hangs across each chest. They are camouflaged in jungle colors.

  It took us a week to get back to the part of the jungle that Father calls home. Today it is alive with colors and sounds. Birds hoot and lizards scurry and the sun slips through the trees. It is too beautiful a day to be filled with what is to come.

  The armed troop will use a megaphone to announce our presence. They will ask Father if he wants to come out, but I know surrender is not something Father knows how to do.

  “Mr. Tondjii, you are surrounded,” the commander says in French through the megaphone. “Come out peacefully.”

  Father does not like to take orders.

  “I repeat,” the voice says again. “Come peacefully.”

  Beside me, Raven does not move. We are up in a tree, one that offers us the best vantage point. From here, I see Clovis to the north and Mattius to the east, in surrounding trees. I see men on the ground below us too.

  But I can also see Father’s men approaching the gate, guns drawn. The task force waits—knowing what is happening.

  “Keep your head low,” I tell Raven. I pause to smile at her. “Be brave.”

  A bullet slices through the air.

  The task force is quick to react, and they are deadly with their aim. Dressed from head to toe in bulletproof armor, they are better equipped. Father’s men fall until there are no more guards approaching.

  “Those men were merely distractions. Many more wait inside. Be careful,” I say to the commander, who is crouched directly below us. He nods and gives the signal, leading the men as they swarm
into the compound. Only a few wait with us on the perimeter, to keep stragglers from escaping and perhaps to help protect us.

  We watch as the group approaches the double front doors cautiously. We have been told in no uncertain terms that we cannot participate in the raid beyond leading the men here. This is difficult for all of us, especially Mattius, who is determined to take revenge on his father—and mine. Instead, they have loaned the four of us bulletproof vests, and told us to wait outside. I am glad for the vest. But there is nothing to protect our heads, and Father has perfect aim.

  We watch as soldiers fire bullets into the door until there are so many holes that they are able to kick in the lock, forcing their entrance. They crouch and clamber through. Shots echo off Father’s fortress like animal calls off the bark of trees. But we stay put. Bullets graze the tree we’re in, and a man on the ground below us falls. He is on our side, but to move now could be fatal. Instead, we fire back. I manage to hit a sniper and two men who are attempting to fire at us from the compound wall.

  Eventually, the air grows quiet. I’m anxious to know whether they’ve caught Father. Is he alive? Perhaps he’s another body laid to rest at the compound that he always swore to protect. Or has he escaped? Could he possibly be waiting his turn to ambush us all?

  I can’t help but think of Mother, hoping she’s okay in there. Has he protected her, at least? A memory comes, quick as a flash flood.

  —

  I’m seven. Mother is sneaking me into her room because Father is gone. I’m not supposed to be up here, but Mother knows Father won’t be home for hours. She shows me a drawer full of chocolate and tells me to pick whichever one I want. Then she lets me snuggle in her bed for a movie. It is one of the only times I don’t have to be Father’s son.

  —

  And then she appears, led out of the compound by two soldiers. At first I think it’s the memory, that I’m only imagining her. But then I hear her sob. I drop to the ground and run to her, regardless of whether it’s safe. I hear Raven’s footsteps behind me, but I don’t stop until I reach her.

  She is crying into her hands.

  “Mother,” I say in tribe dialect so the guards will not understand. I try to keep my voice even, but there is a catch in my throat.

  She stops. Her hands slip from her face. And then she’s hugging me and sobbing harder. And for a moment I feel nothing but relief, that she is safe, that she is unharmed.

  “Jospin,” she says over and over again. “You’re alive.”

  I want to hold her like this until her tears dry. But first I need to know something.

  “Where is Mr. Tondjii?” I ask the commander over Mother’s shoulder, careful to not call him “Father.” It might not matter, but I still don’t want to give away exactly how well I know him.

  He is not being led out by the guards. Which can mean one of only two things: He has escaped, or he is dead.

  “We didn’t find him,” the commander replies, much to my disappointment.

  “He’s been gone,” Mother whispers in tribe dialect, her voice sad. “He went without me.”

  I want to ask why she was left alone. But there’s no time.

  “Mother,” I say urgently. “You need to go with one of these men, okay? They will take you someplace safe. You are not safe here.”

  “What has your father done?” she whispers. Her face is haunting in its despair.

  But she knows exactly what he’s done. She’s always known his business. And she’s never been one to argue. But that doesn’t mean she agreed with him. It means she loved him enough to stay quiet.

  “You need to go,” I say. “Now.”

  It takes all I have not to break into a million pieces when I see Mother’s agony, because she is pretty much the only good I have ever known until I met Raven.

  “Come back to me,” she whispers before being led away.

  I don’t watch her go. I don’t look back at all. I keep looking forward, because if I look at her, I will lose my resolve. Already I feel a pinch in my chest. I miss Mother to the point of pain, but her safety is more important.

  Mattius and Clovis join Raven by my side. I could kill Father for leaving Mother to die alone. My body shakes with adrenaline, with the thought of doing just that.

  “If he is not here, where is he?” one of the men asks, approaching me.

  “The warehouse,” I answer.

  The place he loves the most.

  Chapter 47

  Raven

  There is blood everywhere. It’s exactly like my painting. The task force has eliminated Mr. Tondjii’s guards, but he is nowhere to be found.

  There are men all around—in the trees, on the ground, atop rocks. And for the first time, I truly feel as if we stand a chance. I always hoped before. I painted it. I desperately wanted the pack to fall, but they were stronger than I had imagined. Yet here, now, I feel like we can win.

  We take the uninjured men to the warehouse, not wanting to lose any more time. But here, Mr. Tondjii has the advantage. There are no windows. There is no back-door escape. We have to walk into his lair—moving targets for his waiting men.

  Jospin insists on accompanying the men inside this time. I think seeing his mother affected him more than he is letting on. Of course, once the commander agreed, he didn’t stand a chance of keeping the rest of us out.

  The moment we enter the building, a bullet flies past my head. I drop down immediately, narrowly avoiding another one cutting the same path. With the warehouse doors open, sunlight illuminates the room, the rows upon rows of canned goods, and the guards firing at us. I fire back. One runs, as if he has a chance, but there are too many of us. A soldier to my right shoots repeatedly until the guard falls. Another pack member charges at us, and he lands two solid punches to the face of a soldier and a kick to the face of another before a bullet from Jospin’s gun hits him in the back of the head.

  There is no one left upstairs. I glance at Jospin. Face drenched in sweat, he grimaces—because he’s realizing the same thing I am. Our eyes go to the basement door. It’s the only place left for his father to hide.

  A soldier tugs it open.

  The light doesn’t touch anything past the first few steps. Mr. Tondjii has cut the power, I realize—below us is nothing but darkness. We do the only thing we can and rush down the stairs. The soldiers illuminate the room with their flashlights, and I am stunned.

  There is no one in the room. There are no weapons on the ceiling, like I remember. Only metal tables sit here. And then I notice something else, a square illuminated by a faint light.

  Tick tick tick

  A red button blinks.

  Tick tick tick

  “Run! Run now!” I scream, turning back to the stairs, dashing through the warehouse and out the doors.

  Some make it, but for others it is too late.

  The ground shakes and suddenly I am airborne, thrown by the force of the explosion. I land roughly on my side. For several minutes, all I can do is lie dazed on the ground. Then, though it hurts like hell, I push myself up and look around. A dust cloud hovers, making it hard to see. I search desperately for Jospin, and find him on his back, struggling to breathe. After a few seconds, he slowly sits up and winces.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  “Yes,” he says. He stands and wobbles. Blood drips from his right ear.

  I go to that side and whisper, “Jospin.”

  He doesn’t turn to me. He doesn’t say, What? And that’s how I know he’s lost hearing on that side.

  “Jospin,” I say, louder.

  “What?” he replies. And then his face falls. “Shit.” He reaches a hand to his ear. It comes away bloody.

  “It might be temporary,” I say. I can only hope it is. “We have to find your father. Can you make it?”

  “Of course,” he says, squaring his shoulders.

  We look for Clovis and Mattius. We don’t have to look far. Clovis is sitting up.

  “Where’s Mattius?” he asks.
>
  “Right here,” Mattius says, approaching from behind. Blood flows from a gash in his forehead. He wipes at it continually to keep it out of his eyes.

  Clovis stands. We look at the remaining soldiers.

  “What do we do now?” I ask.

  “We need to split from the soldiers,” Clovis says. “Mr. Tondjii will know if a large group of us are coming through the forest. We are better in smaller numbers now.”

  I couldn’t agree more. So we take off while the soldiers are distracted. I double-check my guns, making sure they’re loaded, and begin jogging through the ash and dust. Jospin, Clovis, and Mattius follow. It doesn’t take long to pick up on a trail. Twigs are broken over moss. Trees have marks on them.

  “It’s too easy,” I whisper.

  “Mr. Tondjii would never be this careless,” Clovis agrees.

  “He wants us to find him,” Mattius says.

  I can’t help but think he’s right. All this time, we thought we had the element of surprise, but perhaps Mr. Tondjii has been planning for this—maybe from the day we stole his evidence.

  “We don’t have a choice but to follow it,” Jospin says.

  And we don’t. If we choose to walk away, Mr. Tondjii will remain. He will rebuild or, at the very least, get away with his crimes.

  “There are four of us,” I say. “Let’s each pick a direction to watch; that way we have eyes everywhere.”

  “North,” Jospin says.

  “South.” Clovis.

  “West,” Mattius says. It’s the hardest; he turns almost completely around to watch our backs.

  “East, then,” I say. I’m looking directly forward, facing any oncoming danger.

  I walk through brush thicker than trees, over rocks and logs and so much vegetation. The track disappears for a bit, but we manage to pick it back up. Three sets of footprints.

  I pause. There’s something different about the air here. It’s quieter, as if the forest knows there’s a predator near. The others notice too. And then I do what I’ve seen the three boys around me do many times. I tip my ear to the air and listen.

  Whoosh.