Rebecca Zanetti - Blind Faith

“You do.” Audrey gentled her voice. “Mother, the commander is a sociopath. He’s incapable of loving anyone or feeling anything. You know that.”

Isobel freed her arm. “I do know that he’s unencumbered by emotion or weakness. He’s invincible.”

“Nobody is invincible.” Sorrow and sympathy softened Audrey’s tone. “You’ve said all these years that you experimented in the name of science.” Which was somewhat true, definitely. But Isobel’s motivation was stronger than just the quest for answers. “I’ve known that your love for that man has colored everything you’ve done.” Including sacrificing her own daughter’s happiness and health.

“My entire life is dedicated to science.” Isobel patted Audrey’s hand as a commotion set up outside the compound. “Let’s go see what’s happening.” Holding her tablet to her chest, she led the way from the room.

Audrey’s shoulders slumped, and she pushed up from the chair. She followed her mother, her heart hurting, her leg hitching as she tried to keep up. She walked outside into the drizzly rain and gasped. Armed soldiers lined the area, guns all pointed at a van pulling up. One of the commander’s vans.

The door opened, and Nathan Dean stepped to the ground.

Guns cocked all around them.

His hands held harmlessly at his sides, he stalked forward, wearing only faded jeans and a ripped T-shirt.

A soldier jumped out of the van behind Nate. “He’s not armed, and we searched him for visual or audio devices. There are none.”

The commander took strong, measured steps from the building to stand before Nate. “You came in the front door,” he said, frowning.

Nate cocked an eyebrow. “You invited me.”

Audrey measured the two men. The commander had always seemed too large to be real, but now, in the murky rain, she realized Nate stood at least two inches taller. Maybe three. His chest stretched wider, and his muscles cut a sharper image. “My boyfriend can beat up yours,” she whispered to her mother.

“What?” Isobel asked, her gaze wide on the action.

“Nothing.” Audrey fought down instant panic at the sheer number of guns pointed at Nate.

Nathan’s body didn’t move, but his head tilted just enough that he could meet her gaze. “What the hell happened to your face?” he asked quietly. Too quietly.

She gingerly touched her still-aching cheekbone. “Rough night. Before I arrived here.”

The commander glanced at her over his shoulder before turning back to Nathan. “I wouldn’t hit a woman, as you know. Anybody who harmed her is now dead, I assure you.”

“That’s nice to hear.” Nathan glanced at the myriad of guns pointed at him. “This is overkill, don’t you think?”

“Maybe.” The commander’s stance widened. “When is the surprise attack coming from your brothers?”

Nate smiled, challenge filling his eyes. “They’re not coming.”

“Bullshit.” The commander stepped toward Nate in an intimidating move. “They wouldn’t let you come in here by yourself. That much I know.”

Nate didn’t look intimidated in the slightest. He looked… triumphant. “That’s true. If they’d known I was coming here, they would’ve either tried to stop me or they would’ve joined me. But. I. Didn’t. Tell. Them.” He kept the commander’s gaze, sardonic humor twisting his lip.

“The kill chips will end them,” the commander said.

Nate’s smile widened, and he shook his head. “We have the computer program and can hack the codes.”

“You do not,” the commander scoffed.

Nate held out his hands and then gingerly reached into his back pocket.

Soldiers tensed on either side of him.

He sighed and extracted a piece of paper to hand to the commander. “The program.”

A deep red flushed across the commander’s cheekbones. “Where did you get this?”

“Who cares? We have it.” Nate’s lids half lowered, and his smile disappeared. “You lose.”

The commander took a deep breath and crumpled up the paper. “Do I?” He smiled. “I have you, and I have your progeny. That’s a win, as far as I’m concerned.”

Nate shrugged. “I have mere weeks to live.”

“I can fix that.” The commander turned and nodded at Isobel. “Please post on all crucial Internet sites that we have Nate Dean, and his brothers have one day to show up and save him or I’ll cut him up to study for years.”

Isobel nodded, already moving for the door. “Standard encryption and multiple codes?”

“Yes. We don’t want anybody but the brothers to know we have Nate.” The commander clasped his hands behind his back as Isobel disappeared into the building. “Do you think they’ll discover the message before I torture you enough to find their location?”

Nate shrugged. “Why don’t we find out?”

Audrey’s knees weakened. Torture?

The commander gestured for Nate to turn around.

Nate lifted his chin, amusement lighting his eyes before he complied, hands behind his back. “Afraid of me, Commander?”

“No, but I trained you and know what you’re capable of.” The commander nodded to a soldier hovering by the building to come forward.

“You have no clue what I’m capable of,” Nate said softly.

The soldier held restraints and approached gingerly, looking ready to sprint away at any second. After he’d wound Nate’s wrists tight with chained-together cuffs, he bent and followed suit with Nate’s ankles. Then he slowly backed away.

When Nate pivoted back around, he looked… bored.

This was all so wrong. Audrey took in the soldiers, trying to make sense of how everybody could be so wrong. They looked… scared. Very alert. She shook her head. Why would they be frightened of Nate? “Nathan’s the good guy.” Her voice sounded shrill, even to her ears.

Nobody looked her way. They all kept their focus on Nate.

Why wasn’t the world exploding? Where were Shane and Matt? Audrey swallowed. They had to be coming, right? But only the sound of rain falling on concrete filled the air.

The commander smiled. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

Exactly seven hours after arriving at the commander’s Virginia facility, Nate sat, battered and bleeding, on an examination table in a lab. Thick cuffs secured his wrists to a post behind his ass, which wasn’t helping his broken ribs in the slightest. He’d spent his first hour having blood drawn and medical tests conducted—all while being bound. Every doctor and scientist had approached him cautiously, and he’d held still for each, amusement keeping him from going insane.

Then he’d fought for six hours straight.

In a training field much like the ones he’d grown up on, he’d fought highly trained soldiers. With knives, with poles, even with guns, they’d come at him—often two or three at a time.

The commander had watched while several others had filmed him and taken copious notes. After the fights, they’d brought him here. He glanced down at his bare chest and already purpling ribs. Blood and mud covered his ripped jeans and combat boots. He smelled like blood, death, and dirt.

Some doctor had taken more blood and made notations of Nate’s breathing, heart rate, and blood pressure before disappearing.

High heels clicked outside the door, and every muscle in Nate’s body stiffened.

Dr. Madison entered the room, her dark hair up in a bun, a tablet in her hands.

Great. Nate lifted an eyebrow. “Seems like old times.” Except for the tablet—she used to scribble in notebooks. Score one for technology. The woman had tended to his wounds many times through the years, although she wasn’t a medical doctor. Not once had she offered sympathy or kindness. Just Band-Aids and medical jargon.