Page 45 of Undying Resilience
I do, keeping my hands up and my gaze on Wren. Her eyes are squeezed shut, and her entire body is shaking.
I’m sorry, princess. You deserve better than this.
The other two men grab my arms, and then they force us out of the room and downstairs. Just as I did when they brought us in, I absorb as much as I can—the open kitchen and living room, the hallway they take us down, the closed doors we pass, and then the stairs leading downward.
In the basement, they shove us into a smaller room that looks like a cellar. I recognize it as the scene of most of the videos Jordan sent us.
No. Goddammit, no.
They force me into a chair that’s on the far side of a large trough full of water. While they secure me, Jordan zip ties Wren’s hands behind her back. She sniffles from where she’s kneeling in front of the trough.
Jordan waves his men away. “Leave us. I’ll call for you when I’m done with them.”
“Wren,” I say, and when she looks at me, the terror in her eyes is like a knife twisting in my gut. “Wren, you can do this. I know you can.” I try to bust out of the zip ties holding me to the chair, but it’s no use.
“Shut up,” Jordan snaps at me. He kneels behind Wren, his body caging her against the trough.
“Oliver,” she whispers, the sound barely carrying to my ears. I can see in her expression just how hard she’s fighting to stay calm. She’s terrified, but she’s trying to reach inside of herself to find the will to hold on for one more round.
I love you, I mouth.
Her lips part, like she’s about to say something back, but then Jordan grabs her chin and wrenches it to the side. He leans forward so he can look into her eyes. “I bet you regret ever getting mixed up with these men, don’t you?”
She spits in his face.
It’s a stupid move, but I can’t help but be proud of her. If the way she finds her strength is by acting on her hate for Jordan, then so be it.
Jordan grabs her hair, forcing her down until her head is submerged in the water. In the videos he sent Elliot, he always watched her. But now his eyes are on me, a sick grin on his face.
“This is your fault,” he yells. “Yours. You killed my brother. You fucking shot him!”
I twist my wrists, trying to see how much wiggle room I have in the restraints. Not much. “Let her up. You’ve had her under for long enough.”
“I don’t think so,” he says.
I jerk my arms, trying to break free, but I can’t get enough momentum. “Let her up,” I shout.
At this point, my only hope is that having a strong enough reaction will satisfy Jordan. If I give him what he wants, then maybe he won’t drown Wren for as long. It could have the opposite effect—my distress could fuel his hatred—but I have to try something.
“Please, Jordan,” I beg.
He yanks Wren up by her hair. Water streams down her body, soaking her clothes while she gulps in air. And while she’s mid-breath, Jordan shoves her underwater again.
“No,” I yell, still struggling against my restraints. “Stop!”
“If you didn’t want this to happen, then you shouldn’t’ve murdered my brother,” Jordan replies. When Wren tries to lift her head out of the water, he shoves her down harder. “I told you three that you’d pay. This is only the beginning.”
“You’re going to burn in hell for this,” I growl, and fuck, I don’t even believe in hell.
When Jordan lets Wren up, she can’t stop coughing, and the breaths she manages are short. The amount of time he held her under for was concerning. I’m panicking, and I know that has to be affecting my judgment, but I’m pretty sure he’s going for longer than he did in the videos.
“Wren,” I say. “Wren, I’m so—”
Jordan doesn’t let her hear the rest of my sentence. He pushes her under again, slamming an elbow into her back when she starts struggling.
I’ve been trying to get out of these restraints, but all I’ve managed to do is scrape my wrists raw against the zip ties. There’s nothing I can do to stop Jordan, and for the first time today, I realize that maybe this plan was stupid.
What if they can’t get here in time?