Fractured Refuge

by Annabelle McInnes

  Nick was missing.

  After Euan had dragged himself from the monitors, he’d showered and readied himself for the day. Exhaustion had weighed heavily upon, but he’d been jerked into alertness after entering the bedroom to dress. Kira was the only body in the bed. Wrapped in the bedclothes, her petite body pulled tight into a ball as she cuddled herself in her sleep, her singular presence spoke louder than any words could.

  Euan had been fastidious in his nightly observations. His chest grew tight as he came to the uncomfortable conclusion that Nick had intentionally left the bunker while he had bathed.

  Subsequently, he knew exactly where he would find him.

  He scrubbed his palms over his face and took the three steps down into the garden. His boots crunched on the frozen grass and he put his hands in the pockets of his windbreaker in an attempt to avoid the chill.

  He slowed as he approached the garage. The side door was open, a dark shadow against the cedar timber building. The low rumble of voices was undeniable. It reverberated from the building to be whisked away in the morning breeze, the occupants inside ignorant to the consequence that could occur if they were overheard. He shook his head in irritated annoyance.

  He moved closer. Nick’s voice was the first that reached his ears.

  ‘—woman we took from you, the brunette? She shot herself after we saved her.’

  There was no audible answer. Euan placed his hand on the handle of the open door but held himself still.

  ‘I gave her a gun,’ Nick spoke as though the effort to remain quiet cost him. ‘I gave it to her so she felt safe. But she ate the barrel and pulled the trigger. Blew out her brain, because of what you did to her.’

  ‘Because of what others did to her,’ their captive clarified, his voice deceptively calm.

  There was an audible sneer in Nick’s tone. ‘You think you’re clever? You can trick Euan with your fake fear, your pretty eyes. But I see you. I see what you’re trying to achieve.’

  The casual, ‘What’s that,’ was laced with underlying contempt.

  ‘You want this place for yourself. You brought that girl here to tempt him, to bring down his defences. Mickey-O knows the effect a tortured woman has on that man. You tell her to keep her mouth shut and play dumb?’

  ‘You don’t know anything about me, or her.’

  ‘No? I know you’re a lying sack of shit. I know you’re hiding something, and I know I’ll find it out. I know that when the time comes, I’ll be the one to kill you.’

  There was a scuffle inside. The noise of falling debris. The clattering of objects hitting a concrete floor. Profanities and grunting.

  Euan had heard enough.

  Muttering a curse of his own, the door to the garage creaked as it opened. As his eyes accustomed themselves to the dark recesses of the interior, he heard the clink of chain and heavy breathing. His eyes traversed the shelves with objects that were ordered neatly into rows according to size, height and type. He noticed a shine on the bonnets of two empty cars, the floor that had been swept clean, the neatly arranged ropes, wire and electrical cord hanging from hooks on the steel framing.

  The man had been painstakingly vigilant in his efforts to right the chaos. The lone exception was a pile of wooden slats that had been scattered in the scuffle between the two men.

  ‘I see you decided to stay.’

  His boots echoed in the quiet as he stepped onto the concrete slab. He disregarded the heightened testosterone that saturated the air. He ignored an aggressive grip on the chain, the green eyes that flashed in the limited light and the crooked snarl that warped golden features.

  Though Nick’s words had been a shocking insight into his own limitations, he remained outwardly unaffected. Mickey-O did know his weakness. A terrified boy and a brutalised woman were his kryptonite. It wasn’t a stretch to assume the devil would take advantage.

  ‘Let him go,’ he ordered.

  For long moments, neither adversary moved. Euan held Nick’s defiant stare without hesitation. In this, he would not be denied. Or disobeyed.

  Nick’s grip was slow to loosen. He turned from Euan to sneer at the man he held, each finger unhurried to disengage from the rusted iron that pulled at the man’s throat. Released, the boy straightened his spine and waited for the strike to come.

  Instead, Euan pointed at the chair that the blond had broken down in the day before. He almost smiled as the boy eyed the thing with distaste, as if the inanimate object was the instigator of his distress. He sat slowly. His skinny ass perched on the edge of the piece of furniture. Eyes the colour of arctic frost blinked back at him. The frayed edge of rage still flared. He cocked his jaw and clenched dirty hands at his knees. One leg bounced with nervous agitation. At least Euan thought it was, until he noticed the man’s lips were a shade of purple and cheeks as pale as fresh snow.

  He exhaled slowly. ‘Cold?’

  The young man waited a heartbeat before he nodded, his jaw hardened to still the chattering of his teeth.

  Before he realised what he was doing, Euan shrugged out of his jacket and handed it to the young man. He should have thought about the weather. The night-time temperature dropped significantly. It would have been a long, cold night, tethered by chain and noble intentions.

  Nick grunted angrily at his side. A hard shot of anger was sliced his way before he paced out of sight, lost to the dark recesses of the building. There was a crash as his temper combusted. Euan could only imagine the vitriol that was swirling inside Nick’s mind. In the new world, kindness was a weakness.

  Euan’s lip curled as he absorbed the change in the boy before him. In the morning light, and with a night of sleeplessness behind him, Euan catalogued the change. In Nirvana, through the heinous actions of his master, Euan had measured the men that had been at Mickey-O’s side that night. He remembered a blond man who was resilient, sturdy and steadfast. A powerhouse minion who had threatened Euan’s then gaunt figure. A true adversary despite his own training and determination.

  Before him now was a starving boy. Emaciated and withered. A boy who had seemingly suffered nothing but cruelty and starvation since that night.

  It soured Euan’s gut. If it was a ploy, at least he could acknowledge he was well and truly hooked.

  He kept his mask in place and moved until he stood tall and foreboding. The boy’s eyes flickered from his face to his shoulder. Behind him, Nick footsteps echoed until he stepped in beside him. His shoulders brushed his and together, their threatening presence would see this task come to fruition.

  He said, ‘I need you to tell me why. Why here? Why now? Then we’ll talk about what we’re gonna do next.’

  The young man nodded, twisted his lips, resigned. ‘I’ll tell you whatever you like.’ He raised those frosty blues and held Euan’s gaze. The unwavering bravado rippled in their depths. ‘As long as you tell me she’s okay. That she’s unhurt.’

  Euan didn’t flinch from his determination. He blinked, but otherwise remained unmoved. ‘Tell me why you care,’ he retorted.

  The man’s brow creased. ‘Because she’s mine—’

  The aggravated rumble that emanated from Euan’s chest had the man pausing. Nick took a step forward and Euan put an arm out to stop him jumping in farther.

  The boy narrowed his eyes. ‘I mean, she’s mine to care for, mine to look after—’

  Euan interrupted, ‘You sure?’

  A moment of sharp confusion crossed his face. As if he was asking himself the same question, and not coming up with the answer he anticipated. He licked his cracked lips that were no longer purple and rolled his shoulders, as he pulled his defences close despite his seemingly warring emotions.

  Euan answered for him, leaning in close so their noses brushed. The stink of the fetid breath stung his nose. ‘I don’t—won’t—entertain barbarity. You won’t see her, touch her, care for her until I’m convinced that your intentions are as they should be.’

  The boy sat back in the plastic chair. He inha
led deeply. Then he nodded before he ran his hands through his hair to retie the topknot, his bound wrists forcing him to take his time. ‘I get that. I just want to know she’s okay.’

  ‘What’s your name,’ Euan asked instead of the answer the boy craved.

  The response was given without hesitation. ‘Smith, John Smith.’

  Euan didn’t stop the growl of annoyance that escaped passed his lips. Nick snorted. ‘John Smith?’ he asked incredulously.

  The boy narrowed his eyes. ‘It’s what they call me. It’s what I want to be called.’

  Euan’s lip curled. ‘All right, John Smith,’ he sneered. ‘Tell me why you came here, and didn’t just keep running.’

  Smith heaved out a long sigh, but remained quiet.

  Euan’s patience evaporated. He bent, grabbed the chain that enclosed Smith’s throat. He pulled it harder than necessary and jerked the boy forward. Smith’s chest laboured in sudden apprehension. Euan’s remained steady.

  He leaned in, his lip curled; malice poured like magma from his gaze. Smith swallowed audibly.

  The panic attack started in the hands that clasped the chain at his throat. His long fingers began to tremble, despite the iron hold that bled his knuckles white. His pale cheeks turned grey and his inhales were stuttered and laboured.

  As Smith’s features contorted, the facts were confirmed through layers of innuendo and half-truths. There was no deception. There was no perverse intention behind his appearance. Somebody had terrorised this boy, tortured him, maimed his soul and heart in ways Euan suspected his imaginings would struggle to envision. The tremor spread through Smith’s body until he quivered within Euan’s grasp. His firm lips trembled even as an iron will struggled to keep the terror at bay.

  Euan reduced his hold and eased Smith back into the chair. ‘Put your head between your knees, and breathe slowly.’

  His hand guided the matted hair down as Smith did as he was told. He hardened his jaw, prepared himself of an onslaught. He shifted his focus until only a blond man dressed in dark fatigues consumed his vision. But instead of the anger he anticipated, Nick’s eyes held only compassion. A resolute stance and a half-cocked smile further solidified Nick’s verdict.

  They were both now in agreement. Smith’s terror was as real and as foreboding as the apocalypse.

  ‘Just kill me,’ Smith croaked. His hoarse voice broke the shared moment between them.

  Euan remained silent. Though neither of them would draw further bloodshed, Nick still said, ‘Tempted.’

  The darkness that surrounded them created a false sense of security. The muted shadows, highlighted only by threads of light that filtered through the timber slats of the building. Dust motes hovered, the tin roof popped with the lengthening of the dawn and the heat of the sun. Gradually, Smith’s gasps became slow gulps of air.

  With his head still between his knees, Smith mumbled, ‘Please tell me she’s okay.’

  Euan let out a heavy sigh. ‘She’s okay. Still hasn’t said a word.’

  ‘She needs shoes.’

  ‘She does.’

  ‘And clothes, a bath, food.’

  ‘All taken care of.’

  Smith heaved a deep, shuddering breath. ‘Thank you.’

  Nick followed the chain at Smith’s neck to the wall and, after retrieving the key from Euan, unlocked the padlock that had kept the boy confined. He took leisurely steps back to them as he wrapped the rusted metal around his fist. He held the tether as though it were a leash to direct an animal to complete his bidding. His face was devoid of emotion, but Euan saw through the swagger to the gentle soul beneath. Despite Nick’s bluster, he was just as disinclined to intimidate and bully a frightened boy as he was.

  But they both had a reputation to uphold, and answers to gain.

  Euan crossed his arms over his chest. ‘Now tell me.’

  Smith righted himself on the chair, but his shoulders remained hunched, fear still laced icy eyes. A bearded jaw turned hard, and Smith inhaled. He held Euan’s unwavering stare. ‘You’re the only safe place. The only sanctuary, the only refuge left, probably in the entire country.’

  Euan doubted it. Kira’s brother wasn’t the only fanatic to prepare for an apocalypse. But the implications that such a thought existed had consequences. ‘Mickey-O let you leave? Or did you escape?’

  There was a weighted pause. ‘Both.’

  Nick’s regard was heavy, but his focus remained on the target before him.

  He thought back to that night in Nirvana. Of the terror he’d felt, knowing he had nothing but his starved body to protect Nick, of the hordes of men who milled and bayed, who cried for blood and pain. Men who wished for Euan’s death in a pit that had been dug for sport. In that moment, he’d been a slave to a mob, a catamite to the prince of darkness with no option other the bend at the waist and pray. They’d survived. But they’d been scarred.

  It had been horrific to endure; now it was just an agonising memory. A septic thorn that could never be extracted. To escape with their lives had been a mercy, and they’d suffered only one night in the company of Mickey-O …

  Euan jerked in surprise when there was a soft knock at the door behind them. Their concealed weapons were instantly drawn. Both Euan and Nick turned, readying themselves for the onslaught of bloodshed. Instinct had them both standing between the door and the boy sitting in the chair.

  But even as Euan’s finger kissed the trigger to his Glock, he spied the betraying white-blonde hair, the petite figure that was as delicate as an elf and the beautiful features that were twisted with fear. His body gave in involuntary lurch. Nick swore at his side and their captive pulled at his iron chain.

  ‘We have a problem,’ she whispered into the gloom.

  Euan’s reflexes were in control as he consumed the space between them in three strides. Kira’s eyes were bright with outrage, her cheeks flushed with exertion, her eyes steady and unrelenting.

  Euan disregarded it all.

  ‘Get behind me.’ He used force to direct her small body to do his bidding, but it was Nick at his side who placed a gentle hand on his shoulder to ease the sudden burst of nauseating fear. That solid hand calmed the raging torrent, it eased the way for rational thought and Euan found he could breathe again.

  They instantly fell into formation. Two months of training became reflex. Kira and Smith were sheltered by a wall of muscle and two firearms. Reflexes became instinct. Man became animal. Euan moved as though he were an alpha wolf protecting his pack.

  At his side, Nick muttered, ‘You better have a good excuse, Pix.’

  ‘I checked the surveillance system before I came up.’

  Euan growled, Nick cursed.

  ‘I looked everywhere.’

  Nick said, ‘Not an answer.’

  ‘She’s gone.’

  Euan shared a quick glance with Nick as an anguished cry resonated from the shadows. Smith surged forward, and it was only Euan’s fortuitous location at the door and his greater bulk that kept the boy from escaping.

  Smith fought as though he were not on the cusp of starvation. His reaction was that of a caged creature, impulse and need that drove his excessive reactions. His fist was wrapped in the steel chain and glanced Euan’s ribs as his elbows embedded into his stomach. His legs kicked, his teeth bit and in the end, it was both Euan and Nick who were forced to use their superior strength to conquer him.

  ‘Easy, John, look at me,’ Euan said as he used his bulk to hold the kid down on the cement.

  A shudder. ‘They’ll find her.’

  ‘They won’t.’

  A hitched breath. ‘They’ll hurt her.’

  ‘Who? Mickey-O? I won’t let him. We’ll get to her first.’

  Smith shook his head. In defiance, in agitation, Euan didn’t know.

  He turned to Kira. ‘How did she get out?’

  Nick had moved to her side, but it was obvious that their girl had rebuffed his coddling. Her pointed chin was held high, her eyes flared with rig
hteous fury, agitation. She almost spat the answer. ‘It’s not hard to get out. Only hard to get in. All she had to do was pick the lock to her bedroom door.’

  Euan tried to hold in the irritation that burned inside his gut.

  He’d been careless. So fucking thoughtless. Now not only was there an unprotected and vulnerable woman scampering about in the forest, they also had her protector struggling against him in an effort to escape and save her.

  Plus if she was captured, she knew their location.

  His mouth was tight. ‘She take any weapons, supplies?’

  Kira shook her head, her face twisted. ‘You shouldn’t have locked her in the room.’

  He inhaled, ignored her assertion, even as the truth stung. ‘Boots?’

  Kira’s eyes narrowed. ‘I don’t think so. I couldn’t find anything else missing.’

  Fear was a considerable motivator for escape. So was rage. But it was hopelessness that would force a woman to leave a place of refuge without supplies or a weapon. It communicated her intentions. A single aim that didn’t require sustenance or protection to see it to fruition.

  The air escaped from his lungs in a rush and his gaze returned to the tempting fairy. Even in her ire, her features were guileless. She performed every task without artifice, malice or deception. She smiled readily, and despite the anarchy that surrounded her, she maintained the untainted loyalty of a woman who had never experienced horror. Real, true, soul-destroying terror.

  Terror he knew that the silent woman had seen and endured.

  Memories could warp the mind, lengthen shadows, bury inside a conscious so deeply that friend became foe, truths were twisted into lies and safety was an illusion.

  She’d fled in fear, to do something likely very foolish.

  They had to get her back, and soon.

  ‘I know where she’s gone,’ Smith voice was devoid of emotion as he held himself rigid in Euan’s arms.

  His focus shifted to Nick. The green-eyed man pulled a reluctant Kira inside the safety of his embrace, and despite her stiffness, the crease between her brows lessened.