Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 172

Then Natashya's face appeared over his shoulder as her arms wrapped around his neck, and she screamed. I watched in horror as she brought her mouth to his remaining ear and sunk her teeth into the tender pink flesh and cartilage. The man began to scream, loosening his grip on my throat as he started to stand, taking Natashya with him, clinging to his back like a spider monkey

Coughing and enjoying breathing again, I watched as he spun around and thrashed at the dancer, but she just wouldn't let go; she pulled her head back, and blood began gushing down his neck as part of his ear tore free from his skull. Then Chloe stepped in front of him, grabbed him by the face, pulled it back, and buried the entire blade of a large knife under his chin and up into his head. The reaction was immediate; the mercenary dropped to the ground, and Natashya fell with him. She released her grip on his ear and let out a scream, pounding on his back with her fists and cursing in a language I didn't understand.

Jon stepped past the three of us, ignoring us soundly as he made his way to the back of the large room where supposedly the other two were. Meanwhile, Shea had walked into the room and put two bullets into Baldy, ending his life. She quickly moved over the other corpses but seerned satisfied that they were dead enough until she came to Leader. Apparently, he wasn't completely dead yet, so she put one in his head.

"All clear," she called out.

A moment later, Emily cautiously peered into the room, looked around, and slipped in, followed by John. Emily looked unscathed, but John had one arm in a sling. He joined Chloe near Natashya, and the pair took some time to calm the beaten dancer down while Emily rushed over to kneel next to me.

"Marcus!" She looked me up and down and then inspected the handcuffs. She looked over her shoulder at the others, "Do any of you see keys? He has handcuffs on!"

"Natashya," I wheezed, my throat still sore from nearly having the life choked out of me, as well as all the screaming I'd done.

"She's okay," Emily said, looking back down at me. She gave me her sweet smile, her kind, red-rimmed eyes brimming with unshed tears. An involuntary sob escaped her, and she nodded. "You're

both gonna be okay."

"What did they do to her?" I asked. "She looked rough."

Emily chewed on her bottom lip and looked back at Natashya. I could tell she was torn between taking care of me and wanting to better understand how her new friend was actually doing. She looked back down at me and tried in vain to stifle another sob. "You both do, Marcus."

I could feel tears stinging my own eyes and attempted to blink them away. A few escaped, and I could feel them sliding down my cheeks-a testament to the grief over almost losing Natashya and the relief of seeing that my sister hadn't suffered the same fate.

"Thank god she's not dead," I breathed and laid my head back down on the concrete. "I thought they killed her. They said they had you. Em... I was so scared they had you." All that work Emily had done over the past year hadn't been undone in a single night. She was safe.

"Here," Shea called out. Emily looked at her just in time to see the masseuse tossing a small set of silver keys. My sister caught them in one hand and immediately set to work, freeing me of my chains. Bless her... getting those cuffs off my wrists felt better than sex. I held up one hand and examined the oozing ring of raw, red flesh. The lack of metal around my wrist didn't mean the pain was immediately gone. Both of them felt like they'd been held against a stove burner.

"We have to get moving," Chloe said and looked toward the back of the warehouse. "Sound off!"

"Clear back here," Jon said from behind a small stack of boxes. He appeared a moment later, gun still in hand. "That other door's unblocked now. Looks like they took advantage of it."

"Shit," Chloe said. "I was counting on questioning the woman."

"Who was she?" I asked.

"Let's get you back to the plane," Chloe said without answering my question. "We'll tell you what we know as soon as we get back there."

"What's the hurry?" I asked as John approached me and traded off with Emily, helping me to my feet while my sister did the same for Natashya. I groaned as John slid his shoulder under my arm and felt every single one of my ribs. Something in my shoulder popped,

and any pressure I put on my right leg was met with severe pain. I tried to put on a brave face, but any significant pressure on the injured leg elicited an involuntary hiss of pain. I really hoped it wasn't broken; the last thing I needed was three months of walking around on crutches... it wouldn't do much good for the intimidating businessman image I wanted to cultivate.

I heard Emily muttering to Natashya as she helped her upright. The dancer snaked an arm around my sister's shoulders and buried her face in the crook of Emily's neck, and I could hear quiet sobbing. My sister just held her tight and took a few moments to console her

"You alright?" John asked, looking at me.

"Yeah," I said. "I'm fine. I just got several hours of the GITMO treatment. That's all."

"You're lucky," John said as we walked toward the door. Well, he walked. i hobbled. "You could have ended up in much worse shape."

I guess," I said. "A couple of them really seemed to have it in for me. Much more than a day, and I would've been done for."

Chloe, Jon, and Shea had stepped into the hall and made sure it was clear as we approached the door. My bodyguard was barking orders like some black ops commando in a movie, Shea seemed to be completely ignoring the wound in her shoulder, and Jon had slung a couple of the rifles over his shoulder and confiscated Leader's gun before falling in line behind them.

"What do you mean?" John asked as we approached the doorway. "You've been gone nearly three days?"

"Wait.. what?" I asked, my head snapping up.

Three days," John repeated as he peered through the doorway. Our three armed companions were down the hall, and Jon motioned behind us to give the 'all clear' We followed them down the hall with Emily and Natashya on our heels.

"Em," I said, "what day is it?" I don't know why I asked her as if hadn't known..

"Monday morning. Why?" Emily said, only a little breathless despite doing half of Natashya's walking. She had several inches on Natashya, and even though she wasn't quite as in shape as the dancer, it didn't seem to be much of an issue.

"Jesus," I muttered. "Three days?"

It felt like I'd been down there less than a day. How long had I been unconscious? What had they done to me to make me so disoriented that three days felt closer to one? It didn't make sense.

I can't remember much of it," I admitted, my head sagging as I felt defeated. It was bad enough that I'd been captured and beaten around like a pinata, but to not be able to trust my own mind to keep up with the time? This whole thing was a hell of a wake-up call. Most guys think they have some kind of strategy in case they get in a situation like this. I hadn't been prepared for what happened to me, and here John was telling me I had gotten off light. I felt like a weak, naive fool.

Gunfire amplified by the smooth, concrete hallways interrupted any other thoughts of self-pity, and Chloe backed around one corner as we approached her. "Get back!" she yelled at us, bringing John and me to an abrupt halt. John leaned me against the wall and pulled Leader's pistol from Jon's back pocket. He flipped off the safety and checked behind us as the other three fired down the hallway in some sort of well-practiced pattern.

Emily brought Natashya next to me, and the three of us flattened against the wall to keep out of the way of the professionals. John walked past us, his sights trained in the other direction for any hint of danger while the other three dealt with the immediate threat. I got a better look at Natashya; her mouth and chin were coated in fresh blood as well as a healthy amount of dried blood, but aside from a split lip and severe bruising on the right side of her face, I didn't see anything that would have caused that kind of bleeding.

"Is all that blood yours?" I asked.

Her shoulders were stooped, and her face appeared grave. She met my gaze and shook her head. I watched as a fresh tear slipped from her eyes. She tried to blink it away, and she looked away from me. God... what had this poor woman suffered just because she'd been associated with me?

Despite the sadness and hurt in her eyes, a smoldering fire behind that mask of pain reminded me of Natashya's strength.

The dancer had been damaged in what was obviously some horrific ways, but she was a fighter, and I suspected she was far from broken.

I placed a hand on her shoulder and gently squeezed her, I felt her flinch ever so slightly under my touch and immediately removed my hand. Right then, I made a promise to myself that I would do whatever it took to help Natashya recover from this.