seen her.
The only difference: there was a thick, heavy spear clutched in her hand, a troubling match in size and weight to the object that had slammed into the back of his head. Even more telling, its tip crackled with a golden glow that looked a hell of a lot like surging electricity.
Realization dawned. He’d tried to save her and she’d served him up on a platter to 223’s gang using some kind of weapon he’d never seen before.
So much for his rescue. So much for her helplessness.
Everything went dark.
2
He would only have one chance.
The manacle circling Grif’s neck rubbed his skin raw as he yanked the stunted plant from the cracked clay and shoved it into the bag at his feet. Sweat poured down his chest, muscles pulling tight after another full morning of work and his last beatdown.
Six rotations as a slave in 223’s gang’s hellhole and he hadn’t learned to play nice. Not by a long shot.
Beneath hooded eyes, he surveyed the wired perimeter, looking for weaknesses.
The lead guard, who Grif had christened Bully, loomed two arm’s lengths away, his fat paw caressing Grif’s stolen rope. The bastard loved to use it as a whip whenever he got the chance. Three other guards: Scar Face, Big Ears, and the Giant—still nursing a grudge over their first encounter—stood nearby.
All the fuckers were pure evil. Nothing gray about that, just the way Grif liked his lines.
They were supposed to be overseeing the working prisoners, but their attention kept straying behind the massive boulder that marked the outer rim of the slave work area. The cries and grunts making it clear what the off-duty guards were doing with the slaves they’d dragged behind there.
“Our turn soon.” Scar Face grabbed his dick, his gaze shifting back to the working slaves.
Jaw clenched, Grif moved to stand in front of Hope and Melody, the youngest prisoners trapped in this shithole, no regard given to their age or sex.
He couldn’t help what had happened to the girls before his arrival, but he would damn well control what occurred from here on out. Didn’t matter that he was chained like a fucking animal, or beaten to a pulp, he was never letting them be dragged behind that rock while his heart still beat in his chest.
It was bad enough their mother was over there servicing 223’s men while he let it happen. But she’d gone “voluntarily”—drawing the guards’ attention so her girls wouldn’t—and he refused to let that sacrifice be in vain.
The stem in his hand snapped in two.
“Twist it as you pull it from the ground.” Melody’s soft instructions coaxed him back to attention. Stick thin with tangled brown hair and freckles, her voice was young and innocent, even if her eyes weren’t.
“With these meaty paws?” He wiggled his fingers and forced a smile. “I’m lucky I can pick anything at all.”
Her lips tilted upward even as she ducked her head and returned to her task. He took it as a victory.
He was determined to give Melody and her sister more to smile about soon, which meant getting them out of here as soon as humanly possible.
Also, he wanted his fucking whip back.
“Tyson.” Grif swiveled to his right. A flurry of activity near the rock had caught his attention.
“Right here.” His friend popped up, his blond, bearded face lined by its usual scowl. “What’s up?”
He and Tyson had become conspirators the rotation Grif had gained consciousness in the gang’s slave camp with cracked ribs, two eyes swollen shut, a bruised jaw and kidney, a sprained arm, and a mass of bruising. His worst beating in a long while, and that said something.
He’d been trying to figure out his next move when Tyson appeared, ripped apart his own ragged clothing, and bound the worst of Grif’s injuries.
It had been a long time since anyone outside his team had earned his loyalty or trust. Tyson was now in that tight circle.
Plus, the way the male protected the two younger girls as if they were his own said all Grif needed to know about the male’s worth.
“There’s something going on.” Two guards hurried toward the locked gate at the front of the pen. “Stay close to the girls.”
“Line up!” The Giant’s whip snapped.
Scar Face emerged from the other side of the rock, dragging the girls’ mother and a dark-haired quiet female named Cam, who held her hand against a bleeding cut at her cheek.
Grif’s rage grew.
Scar Face shoved the two females toward Bully. “Secure these cunts.”
Bully shackled