She was the only woman Hancock had ever shown any vulnerability over, and that made her even more important.

CHAPTER 36

HONOR lay in her cage, curled into an unfeeling ball. She sensed Maksimov’s frustration, his mounting rage. And his puzzlement over her ability to withstand his repeated attempts to hurt her. But she simply felt nothing at all. It was hard to hurt someone who simply didn’t care and no longer had anything to live for.

She wasn’t a fool. There would be no rescue. When Maksimov grew tired of his games, he’d resort to getting the only thing from her he could. Money. From ANE. She knew it would be soon because with every passing day—and she’d lost count of them—he grew more agitated and disappointed that his prey didn’t give him the satisfaction he’d counted on.

She sensed the change in him this morning when he strode into the tiny, windowless room where her cage was suspended from the ceiling. He hadn’t bothered giving her food and water. She couldn’t have eaten anyway. She would have thrown it all up. But water, she’d sell her soul for, but then she remembered she didn’t have one.

Dead people didn’t have souls or anything else.

“You’ve proved a disappointment,” he said in a churlish tone. Almost like a child deprived of his favorite toy. But then he was nothing more than a spoiled bully¸ unused to not getting his way.

He was used to being feared to the point of being able to bend and manipulate people to his will, and he’d utterly failed with Honor.

“I’ll be going out for a while,” he said with a sinister smile that might have once scared her. “ANE is very anxious to get their hands on you. You’ll be going on a trip soon. I believe you’re familiar with the destination. At least you won’t have an issue with the language barrier.”

She didn’t react. Wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Besides, this brought her one step closer to death, so she welcomed it. She’d expected him to keep her several more days, determined to have his fun and more importantly win the battle of wills he thought ensued between them.

If he only knew. There was no battle. She had no reason to fight. All she wanted now was to rest. And hope to find peace in the next life, though her beliefs had been badly shaken and she was no longer sure what awaited her upon death. She’d witnessed evil winning too many times to be so sure that goodness existed. That it triumphed over all. And that those who fought the good fight were rewarded in final rest.

He didn’t even bother with a parting shot. No attempt to make her cry out in pain. Perhaps he knew he wouldn’t be any more successful than he’d been with all the other attempts.

He simply turned on his heel and stalked from the room, slamming it behind him. She heard the hiss of the airlock, sealing the room. It was an impenetrable room with fortified walls. Likely underground, though she was only guessing by the dank smell and the fact that there were no windows, just fluorescent light that stayed on at all times, ensuring that she was never able to seek solace in the soothing embrace of the dark. Just another attempt to break the already broken.

She fixed her gaze on the far wall and began making patterns in her mind, creating a swirl of color and calling back memories of her family, a ritual she indulged in constantly, especially when Maksimov was tormenting her. She was building a wall around herself because worse was to come and just because she welcomed it, wanted it, would be relieved when death finally claimed her, didn’t mean that she was going to go out screaming, begging, sobbing.

She might have no pride any longer, but it wasn’t about pride. It was about not letting them have that ultimate victory of seeing and enjoying her torture. She’d go as silently and as peacefully as one ever went to their death.

That was her promise to herself. And to her family.

•   •   •

“THE problem, as I’m sure you know, Hancock, is that gaining access to one of Maksimov’s holdings isn’t the problem. He’s a cagey, paranoid bastard with hidden nooks and crannies that can easily be overlooked when they’re right under your nose,” Resnick said.

Hancock nodded, moving slower than he’d like. He still labored for breath, but his absolute focus was on finding Honor, and this was their third search. They were running out of time and he was choking on his despair.

“I’ve got movement in the north wing.”

There was uncharacteristic excitement in P.J.’s voice when it came over the com. She, Cole, Skylar and two of Resnick’s snipers surrounded the holding while the others had fanned out, taking position at every possible entry point.

Explosives had been set on two concrete walls to blow a hole, giving them additional entry points. All they waited for now was go time.

“South too,” Cole said, checking in. “Looks like guards.”

Hope curled in Hancock’s gut despite his best attempt not to set himself up for disappointment. Again. But the other holdings they’d scouted were deserted. This was the first that showed any signs of life.

“We need a count of heat signatures,” Hancock broke in.

Yeah, he was down, but he wasn’t out, and he wasn’t taking a backseat in this. This was his mission. His fuckup. He was getting Honor back no matter what it took.

“I got three here,” P.J. reported in.

“Two here,” Cole said.

“There’s movement in the courtyard,” Edge said quietly. “Looks to me like they’re getting ready to move out.”

Hancock’s heart accelerated as did his breathing, and he paid for it when his lung expanded too rapidly and pain speared through his chest. But he ignored it because if there was movement, it meant that Honor was likely here and Maksimov was preparing to turn her over to ANE. He wasn’t too late.

Sorrow ate at his gut. Not too late to save her from the clutches of ANE but days too late to save her from whatever Maksimov had done to her.

Turn it off. Steele had told him to turn it off, and the man had experience in having to do just that. He’d nearly lost Maren and with it his iron control. Hancock did Honor no good by losing it. He was of no use to her mad with grief. He could get her and the others killed.

“Hold your positions,” Sam ordered. “Vehicle coming in the front gate. As soon as I give the all clear, we go in hot. We need to make it fast. Don’t give a shit how clean. Just make damn sure Honor isn’t caught in the crossfire.”

Everyone had their orders, so radio silence ensued. The snipers would take out their targets as soon as they could be sure Honor wasn’t in the way.

“I’ve got one heat signature completely still and seemingly suspended in midair,” Skylar said quietly.

Hancock knew she wouldn’t break radio silence unless she was sure this was Honor.

“Give me a minute to get a better sight line,” she said. Then she swore, and Hancock’s blood froze.

“It’s below the house. And the signature is faint. I’m betting on a basement secure room. Reinforced walls. Just the kind of place a prisoner would be kept.”

It was the fact that Skylar had said the heat source was completely still that panicked Hancock. And that it was faint. But no. Heat meant life. And if Skylar was right and it was a subroom with reinforced walls, that would explain the faintness of the signal. But not the stillness.

But she was alive, and that was all he could focus on or he’d lose his mind.

“Give me cover,” Hancock said quietly. “The subfloor is mine.”

Rio swore. “Not without backup. Don’t even argue with me.”

Hancock smiled faintly. “You don’t lead me anymore, Rio.”

“That doesn’t mean you still aren’t goddamn mine,” Rio said in a savage tone.

“Rio and I will have your six while the others clear a path,” Conrad said, siding with Rio.