Broken but not lost

Chapter 35, BRIAR

"What are your names?" The maroon-haired man asks, gesturing between Flynn and I.

My side hurts, but I'm so overwhelmed by anger that it doesn't even matter. I spit in his face.

The man closes his eyes in frustration, wiping away the saliva. "Wrong answer." He grabs my wrist and yanks my arm forwards. I wrench my hand, pulling it out of his grasp but he holds firm.

The other man behind me jerks me against him, drawing more blood on my throat. I stop moving.

The leader straightens out my arm, palm up, then traces the tip of the knife gently along my forearm.

The anticipation makes my breath hitch.

Starting at the crease of my elbow, he slowly pierces the skin and glides it down my arm, drawing thick blood that dribbles down my arm. I clench my jaw, attempting not to show any fear or pain, but still trying to tug my arm away from the blade.

Stopping at my wrist, he pulls the knife out of my skin and I gasp out at the motion.

I glance over, seeing Flynn now standing with two men holding him back, a gun still to his head. He fights them, anger washing over him as the accented man wipes up my blood.

He grabs my face and jerks my head, forcing me to look at him. "What are your names." He repeats, no longer a question.

"Go fuck yourself."

A hard smack across my face, causing my head to turn to the side. He once again grabs my head by my hair, giving a look to the man behind me which results in him stepping back, but taking hold of my wrists and holding them there.

Another tall, dark-skinned man promptly walks up with rope in hand, then secures my hands behind me; I wince when the rope makes contact with the fresh wound.

They step back.

The leader yanks my head back, exposing my throat. He looks down at my fallen strap, then proceeds to drag the knife along my collarbone, over to my opposite shoulder and lets the other strap slide down.

"Bastard, keep your fucking hands off her!" Flynn screams, his voice raw. The two men struggle to keep him in place.

The man in front of me ignores Flynn's shouts, only staring at me. He leans in closer, his breath fanning my lips. With his hand securely fisted in my hair I can't pull away even an inch. "Give me both of your names before I tell my men to put a bullet in your boyfriends head." He whispers it so gently I can barely hear, but the words alone stop my heart in my chest.

We stare at each other a moment longer, I fight every bone in my body not to speak.

"Fine." He waves his hand and the sound of the trigger being pulled and a bullet ringing through the air was the worst sound I'd ever heard.

My knees give out and I start to fall to the floor, tears welling in my eyes, but he holds my hair taut, keeping me from falling.

I keep staring at the man, afraid to look behind him.

Afraid to see Flynn's dead body.

"The next bullet..." he starts, taking his knife and holding it against my cheek, "won't be a warning shot."

I gasp in relief at the words, I take a look behind him and see Flynn bent over in pain. They must have punched him the same time the trigger was pulled. They put a cloth over his mouth and yank his head back up, now he couldn't even answer for me.

He digs his knife into my cheek, drawing blood, waiting for my answer.

I can't lose him.

Weak.