Take (Deliver 5)

With the glide of his finger, he curved the razor along the side of her face. His gaze followed the movement, and his breathing picked up.

She held still, paralyzed beneath his deadly touch. “You don’t want to do this.”

His eyes flicked to hers and tapered with warning.

It was a powerful, overwhelmingly desperate moment when the mind recognized that death was only seconds away.

“I can give you something.” She swallowed. “Something no one else has offered.”

“Don’t be naive. You’re smart enough to imagine the range of pleasures women offer me.” He scanned her body with zero interest on his face.

“Not that.” She organized her thoughts and carefully chose her words. “I get the feeling you’ve suffered things. Unspeakable, horrible things that left a deep impact on your life.”

His expression emptied, giving nothing away.

Was she digging her own grave? Her hands slicked with sweat, her lungs shriveling on the cusp of hyperventilation. “Maybe I’m just projecting. When Van Quiso took me, I experienced my own trauma. Whatever happened to you, I can empathize. I don’t forgive you for kidnapping me, but I’m capable of compassion.” She softened her voice. “Surely, that means something to you?”

“Compassion?” He laughed. “I’ve heard of it, but not in this world. Not where joy is nonexistent, and integrity is a luxury.” He hooked the blade under her throat, skyrocketing her pulse. “In this world, the weak are crushed.”

Her chest heaved, and her entire body convulsed with overwhelming horror. Oh God, she didn’t want to die. Not like this. She wasn’t ready.

But what hope did she have? There was no ransom, no way to locate her, and no white knight riding in on a horse.

What if death was her only escape?

“Okay, Tiago.” She wheezed, eyes wide and burning. “I’m scared. Is that what you want? I’m fucking terrified. But I won’t give you the pleasure of watching me fall apart. You want to kill me? Go ahead.” She raised her chin and pushed against the blade, shaking violently. “You have my fear. You’ve taken my freedom. I have nothing left to lose.”

“That’s not true. There is something.”

The blade retreated, and he folded it shut. Her heartbeat reeled as he pocketed it and pulled out a phone.

“I have something you and Lucia want.” He unlocked the screen, tapped it a few times, and met her eyes.

“I don’t understand.” Or maybe she did, but denial was easier to swallow.

He turned the phone and showed her the screen.

A live video of a nude man streamed across the display. He stood in a shack with his back to the camera and a sponge in his hand. He was bathing, using water from a bucket at his feet. Even more crude was the shackle connecting his ankle to a chain that snaked along the dirt floor.

What was on his back? She leaned closer to the screen.

Holy fuck.

Blood pounded in her ears, and ice skewered her veins.

Who would have the stomach to carve up that man’s back so gruesomely? Her gaze shot to Tiago, her thoughts spiraling to the razor in his pocket.

Dread hardened her gut as she returned to the screen.

The mutilation spanned from the man’s shoulders to his waist, the cuts welted and red, but not fresh. Not only that, there were pink scars on opposite sides of his arm, as if something had been recently stabbed straight through it.

God, the pain he must’ve endured… She couldn’t imagine it. Couldn’t take her eyes off the video. She pored over his brown hair, his muscled mid-twenties physique, and the unfinished tattoo on his bicep.

Her breath hitched. Oh, please, no. She knew that tattoo.

“As it turns out…” Tiago’s deep voice broke through her. “Lucia fell in love.”

“No, no, no.” She shook her head, denying the truth even as it forced itself upon her. “That’s not Tate. It can’t be.”

“It’s him, and the man holding the camera has been instructed to kill him, if I don’t call in…” He tilted the phone to check the time. “Five minutes.”

Her heart catapulted to her throat. “Call him!”

He regarded her, head canted and expression composed, as if he had all the time in the world.

Everything inside her snapped. She thrashed and spat and went fucking feral as he watched her with a sick kind of curiosity.

“Please!” She kicked her legs, bucking beneath the straddle of his knees. “What do you want? I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?”

She looked at the phone, at the brutality marring Tate’s back, and her stomach sank. “Lucia loves him? And he loves her back?”

“Yes.” The corner of his mouth bounced. “They risked their lives to be together, and if they’re lucky, they’ll die together.”

“What are you saying?”

“I have a weakness for tragic love stories. It’s the only reason I didn’t kill them immediately.” He shut off the phone, a scowl darkening his inextricable eyes. “Lucia will find him, unless you fuck it up.”