Iron Willed Warrior (Last Refuge Protectors #5)

27. Brynn

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Brynn

Ryker pulled the bag away from my head. I blinked at the sudden brightness. He snapped a metal cuff onto one of my ankles before I’d even registered the movement. Then he yanked the tape away from my mouth.

“Scream all you want now. Nobody will hear you.”

Gah . That had been…unpleasant.

I rubbed at the raw skin around my mouth. My hands were still bound with the plastic tie, but Ryker hadn’t put them behind me. At least there was that.

I was sitting on a cot in a room with no windows. Cinderblock walls, low ceiling. There was a basic kitchenette across from me. A sliding door leading into a small bathroom. The place was just a step up from a prison cell. No cameras, at least none that I could see.

I bent my legs, and the metal cuff on my ankle pulled. The cuff was attached to a thin chain. The other side of the chain connected to the metal frame of the cot.

“What is this place?” I asked.

“This is the start of your new life. Time to get used to it.”

I held back my sneer. Really? He needed to work on his psychological tactics, because all he was doing was pissing me off.

It had been hours since we’d left the resort. Someone had bundled me with thick fabric, maybe curtains and tablecloths, then packed me up like cargo into a waiting van. We’d driven somewhere, followed by a transfer to another vehicle. I’d heard Ryker’s voice through all of it. Not Westwick or the others, so I had no idea where they were.

I hadn’t heard Cole’s voice either. I couldn’t think about him right now. Couldn’t risk falling apart if he was truly gone.

I’d fought like hell earlier, and it hadn’t gotten me very far. I had to come up with an actual strategy. This might be a prison cell, but it looked lived in. There had to be something here I could use.

I looked up at Ryker. He had red scratches on his face. Scratches I remembered giving him. “You have a little something here,” I said, pointing at my own face like a mirror. “Looks like it hurt.”

Ryker came at me, pushing me roughly by the shoulder. My back landed against the thin mattress. He towered over me. “I told you there were plenty of ways I could cause you pain without leaving a mark.”

Ryker jabbed his thumb between my ribs, aiming for a pressure point. My breath stuttered, and my vision swam. The pain drove away my ability to think.

“Enough of that,” Garon Westwick said.

Ryker pulled back. Westwick stood there in the open doorway. I hadn’t heard him come inside. I sucked air into my lungs, shaking off the intense pain in my rib cage.

I tried to get a glimpse of what was outside the door, but all I could see was another cinderblock wall. A hallway, maybe. And the profile of a guard in black tactical clothes with a rifle across his chest .

“Keys?” Westwick held out his palm, and Ryker set a ring there, metal jangling. “Leave us,” the head of Stillwater said.

“Boss, I wouldn’t advise that. This one is tricky. She’s already proven?—”

“ Leave . Make sure our ride is on schedule for the morning.”

Ryker stalked for the exit, giving me one last glare of warning before he shut the door.

I sat up, scooting as far back as the ankle cuff allowed me. Westwick leaned against the kitchenette counter, not yet daring to come close. He watched me for a while, eyes greedy like he owned me. He clearly thought he did.

Go ahead , I thought. Come over here and see what happens .

“You’re strong,” he said. “That’ll serve you well where we’re going.”

“Where’s that?”

“Don’t worry about those kinds of details. The only details you need to know are what your master tells you.”

“My master ?”

Fuck that , I almost said, but held my tongue. Find a way out of here . That was all that mattered.

He smiled broadly. It wasn’t like his smile in that photo with his wife and daughters. The man standing in front of me wasn’t wearing a mask anymore. “Ryker warned me you were spying on me. But I knew your agenda from the beginning. I’ve known it since the moment I met you.”

I braced myself to hear my real name. To learn that he’d been playing us this entire time, and that he knew about the Protectors. About everything .

“What do you know?” I forced out.

“That you’re attracted to power. Everyone is, but you were willing to put yourself out there to get my attention. I admire your spunk. Have to admit, you intrigue me, Brianna. You brought a knife to our private meeting. Why is that? ”

I hid my exhale of relief. He didn’t know a damn thing about my true mission. The guy probably believed he was infallible, too smart and too careful to ever get caught. Overconfident. And that was something I could use.

“I was afraid of you.” The man puffed up when I said that. He liked hearing it. “As I should have been, since you kidnapped me. That’s twisted. You’re sick.”

“I saw an opportunity and decided to take it. That’s not evil, that’s smart. You need to accept that you’re mine now. If you keep fighting, Ryker will keep punishing you. I guarantee you don’t want that. There’s nowhere to go, anyway. We’re in a secure location with an armed guard outside. Miles away from anyone else. To the outside world, you might as well be dead, and within a day or two, everyone will assume that’s what happened to you. A victim of your possessive boyfriend.”

I suddenly understood the meaning of Ryker drawing my blood. “You’re framing Cameron? Like, making sure he’s sent to prison for my murder? Ryker claimed he was already dead.”

Westwick shrugged. “By now, Cameron will be dead. Ryker’s men took care of it. He doesn’t have to be convicted of killing you for the world to believe it.”

Rage filled my throat. I wanted to scream. And more than anything, destroy the man sitting beside me.

Cole couldn’t be dead. Please , my heart begged.

He reached out to stroke the back of his finger down my cheek. I managed to keep still. Not react.

“I understand your initial shock at being taken. But I don’t think you’re going to give me any more trouble. You’re wiser than that. Especially when there’s a guard with an assault rifle right outside this door. You’re a practical girl. Aren’t you, Brianna? ”

His hand moved lower, skimming my shoulder down to my side, where I ached from Ryker’s pressure-point jab.

Westwick continued along my leg, leaving goosebumps of disgust on my skin, until he reached my ankles. He produced a small folding knife and cut the plastic binding my ankles together. I imagined plunging that blade into his heart, but I didn’t move. He reached for my hands and cut the plastic tying those as well. The metal cuff remained on my left ankle, securing me to the cot. But otherwise, I was free. If the word free had any relevance to my current situation.

Westwick folded the knife and placed it back in his pocket. The same pocket where he had the keys Ryker had handed him. “There’s still plenty I can offer you. If you behave.”

I lowered my eyes. “Why should I believe you?”

“Because I’m ready to give you what you wanted all along.”

“Which is?” I spit out.

Westwick stood up. He fit his hands into his pockets as he walked around the small room. “Your lifestyle brand wasn’t a bad idea, but it was missing the point. Real power isn’t about followers on social media or selling a cheap product. It’s access. You knew that, deep down. That’s why you wanted to get close to me. And it’s what I’m giving you. Access to rich, important men. If you’re good to them, they’ll be good to you.”

I looked up at him, letting conflicted emotions play across my face. “Sleeping my way to the top? Are you serious?”

“Completely serious. If you’re smart about it, you’ll eventually be moving in the most powerful circles in the world. All from the shadows. Which is where true power always lies. But you’ll actually be working for me . Gathering secrets and reporting back.”

“I have a choice in this? ”

“No, you don’t. Brianna Waverley is dead. If you want to live, it’ll be on my terms. But this is still an opportunity.”

I pretended to consider, as if his argument made any kind of sense.

This guy truly was twisted. I had no idea if his offer was real, or if he was just playing games with his food before he sank his teeth in. But it didn’t matter. For now, I would play along.

“Ryker said something about Eric Masterson. The future senator. That I’m…a gift .”

“That’s right. Masterson invested in a venture of mine, and I want to keep a close eye on him. I believe you can help me with that.”

“Spy on him for you.”

“Yes. But first, I have to know you’ll do everything I ask. You have to impress me. Do you know what I mean?” He waited. The tension in the room crackled. Westwick thought he had me hooked. That I was some kind of trapped prey that he’d almost tamed.

But he had no clue what was about to happen.

I sagged against the wall behind the cot. Like all the fight had left me. “I understand,” I said softly. “I’ll be good.”

“I know you will.” Westwick came toward me. One expensive leather shoe in front of the other. He sat beside me on the thin mattress and rubbed a lock of my hair between his fingers.

Adrenaline numbed my body, my emotions, everything but the singular knowledge of what I had to do.

When he sat close enough to grip the back of my neck, I launched myself at him. My arms cinched the man’s jugular in a brutal chokehold. He fell onto the mattress, kicking and grunting as he tried to get away.

I used another vicious burst of speed to twist my free leg around him, pinning him. The metal cuff on my other ankle pulled hard on the bed frame. My mouth opened in a soundless scream. Rage and fury for what Westwick had done—to my best friend, the others I’d gotten to know in Hartley, the countless victims of Stillwater. And Cole. From the beginning, Cole had wanted Westwick to suffer for his crimes. I’d tried to stay more objective. More practical . As Westwick had just accused me of being.

But right now, I wasn’t level-headed Agent Somerton. I was just a woman who wanted vengeance against the monster who’d hurt the man she cared about.

There were a few thumps as Westwick kept struggling. Nothing loud enough to alert the guard outside. The lack of oxygen and blood flow to Westwick’s brain weakened him with each second that passed.

Finally, he went limp. Unconscious. That wasn’t enough for me. I wanted him dead.

Yet I had to force myself to stop.

I let go of the man, panting to catch my breath. My skin felt dirty everywhere I’d touched him.

Cole and I had agreed we would take Westwick alive so that we could deal a final blow to Stillwater. My mission wasn’t finished. Even if Cole wasn’t here . I shoved down the feelings that tried to rise up in my throat.

Finish the mission. Get out of here. Wherever here was. Then, I could find out what had happened to Cole. And all the while, I’d be praying that he was okay. Because if I didn’t see his grumpy frown again, or hear him argue and lose his temper, or feel his warm, rough hands on my face…

Stop .

There would be time to wallow later. Right now, I had to move. Ryker could return any second. Especially if there were hidden cameras in here and the Stillwater guards already knew what I’d done.