I do as I’m told, but I take my time. He steps in closer when I’m bent down, cuffing my legs together. He steps on the knife and slides it out of my reach. Smart man.
Still saying nothing, I lift up and the chains hang free. I clamp one against one wrist then shrug. Fuck him. He can do the other. Ty tucks my gun in the front of his pants, leans in with sturdy hands, and locks it in place, then steps back as we both turn our heads to the sound of men approaching.
Their Spanish words throw chaos into an otherwise silent room. They converse back and forth with my brother. His mouth moves and his nostrils flare. Then out of nowhere, he backhands the asshole that was here earlier with the butt of my gun. The gun busts open his cheek, and blood instantly drips over his mouth.
My brother surprises me with his raw violence. His actions are ruthless, which proves he's so far gone from reality there's no getting through to him. I’m positive about one thing, I want my damn gun back. If I make it out of here alive, that’s the weapon my brother is going to die from as I take my last step from this fucking filthy shithole.
“Get him out of there. Wrap this around him first.”
“You afraid to do it yourself?” My silence wavers.
“Nah, man. If these assholes want to be fed and keep fucking their wives, then they do as they’re told. Otherwise, they die. Then I’ll fuck their wives. Isn’t that what a good leader does, brother? They give orders, and their servants do what they say?” The slimy bastard is trying to push my buttons and make me angry. His provoking won’t work.
“Nah, man. That’s not how it goes at all. You see, in my army, in my country, we kill the enemy, not our brothers.” I’m not even going to respond to his comment about what he might do to women. That will fester inside of me until I rip him apart. His brows quirk up. I know damn well he understands my meaning when he blinks several times. His throat bobs up and down as he contemplates his next sentence to me. He may be my blood brother, but the men I serve with know what it’s like to be a real fucking brother.
“You think they’ll come back for you, don’t you? They may, but they’ll never find you. I’m going to torture you, Kaleb. In ways you’ve never heard of, never seen, and never even knew existed.” Ty is so full of hatred as he begins to bark out his disgust for me.
“Strip his clothes off,” my brother demands one of his coward followers to come near me after he unlocks the small door. I’m escorted out of the cell with my own gun aimed right at me.
The light is blinding to my sensitive eyes. The butt of a gun is shoved into my back as we walk several yards. We stumble toward a tree with a rope hanging down from a sturdy branch. Awe, shit.
He’s going to leave me out here, baking in the sun, after he fucks me up. Fuck.
His stupid subjects cut my damn clothes right off of my body, the knives digging into my skin as they do, and I continue to keep score. I can feel the blood slowly trailing down my arms and legs. Goddamn, these fuckers are going to pay.
A knife lies at the base of my throat while they unhook the cuffs from my arms. Determination courses through my veins as I look for my out. I could kill one or two of these fuckers before my brother shoots me, but I’m better off letting him bring his torture on while praying like a bitch my team is on their way back here by now. I know their training will lead them to me.
I’m standing naked in front of these bastards. My legs are still bound together by the chains as they draw my arms up tight with the rope. I will my dick to fucking tuck itself into my body and pray they don’t do what I would do if the roles were reversed right now. Fuck.
“I was one happy motherfucker when I got the call they had you. My piece-of-shit brother sniffing around in my world.” He moves in closer to my face, spitting each word at me. Come closer, asshole. Come an inch fucking closer. There's a little army here to watch the show, but he's the only one I need to focus on.
“If I gave you one call, would it be to our sweet mother? Would you call to tell her that her piece-of-shit son has you bound to a tree with your dick hanging there, lifeless, knowing your fate? Or would you call that sexy little Sniper you had with you?” My gut twists as he probes for the tiniest clue that she's a weakness. I will never show emotion when he talks about her. Thank fuck I'm experienced with this shit. I remain quiet and wait for what he has next. He may think he knows what the hell he’s doing, but he’ll make a mistake. And by god, when he does, I’ll make my move.
“Where did they take him?” He starts to pace in front of me, and I stay stone-cold. He’ll never get me to talk, and he knows this.