Page 72 of Us Defiant Few

“So, you were also a prisoner in Braderhelm?” Takeshi asked, surprising himself by not ending the conversation.

“Yeah.”

Takeshi made it a point to memorize every prisoner in Braderhelm. Their strengths. Weaknesses. That was his job. And the fact that the entire group, except for Elise, claimed to have been in Braderhelm made him seethe internally.

He barely recognized the old woman, but he couldn’t remember anyone else.

Maybe this was all part of their plan to lay down clues, gain his trust, and make Takeshi believe their story.

His heart banged against his chest, not knowing what to believe. The edges of his vision started to blacken, and his body tilted to the side.

Gain control. Gain control.

Gain con—

“Hey!” Brock snapped his fingers, his sharp voice cutting through the madness.

Takeshi heaved in heavy breaths, his vision slowly returning to normal. He glanced down and noticed blood coating his palm from squeezing the blade too tightly.

“Fuck,” he muttered, trying to wipe the remnants of blood on his pants, but the cut was deeper than he anticipated.

Without a word, Brock lurched to his feet and disappeared down the hall. He appeared moments later with a towel and a white cloth. He tossed them to Takeshi, who wiped the blood and tightly covered the wound.

“You good?” Brock asked.

Takeshi nodded. He released a deep sigh, leaning his head against the door. Light snores drifted from the bedroom, and for some reason, the sound eased the tension in his muscles ever so slightly.

“If you wanted to spill a little blood, you could’ve just asked for a fight,” Brock offered.

“Anyone I fight right now wouldn’t make it out alive.”

Takeshi wasn’t bragging.

With the mood he’d been in lately, it was the truth.

Brock shrugged, standing to his feet. “Even so, I think friends are the ones you’re able to punch.”

“Is that what we are?” He slowly lifted his gaze, the word “friend” terrifying him more ways than it should.

“We’re not friends,” Brock answered honestly, walking down the hall to park himself in front of the door to his own obsession. “But sometimes, I think we could’ve been.”

19

The world waited till I breathed before drowning me again.

“Wake up, Khalani!”

She groaned into the pillow. Khalani’s body sagged on the mattress, her limbs refusing to move after a week of nonstop travel.

She wasn’t getting up unless someone was dying.

“The day is here, and it’s time for you to rise!”

The sheets were suddenly ripped away from the bed. She desperately reached out, eyes still closed, and grabbed nothing but air.

“Winnie,” she grumbled. “We finally have beds. Can’t we sleep in just a little longer?”

“No. No. No.”