Winning His War

51

Jem's POV

I forced my eyes to stay closed as I tried to make the pieces around me fit together.

Figure out what you know first, then figure out the rest and make a plan, his voice echoed in my head all these years later.

My hands were cuffed behind my back, I was on the ground, which was made of concrete, and I most certainly had a concussion from whatever hit my head before I went down. Everything hurt, they likely beat me up to keep me weak before I woke up and to keep Andrew and Patrick compliant.

My ears strained to pick up any movement but I heard nothing. Not scuff of a shoe, no rasp of a breath, not even crickets chiming from outside. I was alone in whatever room I was in meaning they could have already killed Andrew and Patrick if they didn't have the information they wanted or they could still be torturing them for information they didn't have.

My chest ached as I forced myself to open my eyes for the first time since I woke up.

My hands instinctively tested the strength of the cuffs behind me but it was clear they weren't budging. A chain was connected to them and seemed to be attached to the wall. Even if I managed to get to my feet to make a run for it, the chain wouldn't let me go more than a foot before it dragged me back into place.

The room I was in was more like a basement than anything. A dark basement that was cold as hell. All I could make out was the vague outline of a door, a table that seemed to be covered with weapons but was far out of my reach, nothing more than a tease.

A little wiggle of my legs told me that all of my phones had been taken and likely gone through but I doubt they were smart enough to actually get any information off of them. Hell I had taught Dev how to do it and he still can't do it so I didn't have much faith in these random idiots.

I took a deep breath to force myself to calm down and try to come up with a plan now when the lights turned on just as the door opened. I winced at the bright lights and forced my eyes shut at the invasion while a laugh rang through the air.

"Don't pretend to be asleep now," the voice chided lightly. "We already know you're awake. Besides, your little friends here are worried about you. Better calm them down before Andrew has a heart attack."

I forced myself to get used to the light just as two forms were shoved in front of me. I didn't have to look to know who they were. I was on my knees in seconds, positioning myself in between Patrick and Andrew and the men holding us hostage. Turning my back to see them would be a death sentence but I had to know.

"Are you okay?"

"Well enough," Patrick grumbled, still behind me but also shoving Andrew farther back to force them to get both of us before getting to him.

"Andrew?"

"Andrew's a bit too worked up at the moment," the familiar young voice said with a sick smile on his face. "He's been having a panic attack since he got here, I doubt he'll be much help with any plan you come up with so I wouldn't count on him."

"Who the fuck are you?" I asked even though I didn't care.

Keep him talking. You job is to buy your men time to find you and plan an attack of their own. They can't do that if you're dead before they even know you're missing.

"Don't tell me you don't remember me Jem," he teased with a smirk on his face. "I mean I know it's been a while and I've definitely changed but surely you haven't forget me." Despite the proud smirk hurt laced in his voice as I took in his features for the first time.

His hair was bright red, clearly dyed, and styled to cover half of his face. He was Latino but had no accent meaning he was likely raised here in the states around people who didn't speak Spanish well enough to force him to learn and to keep the accent. He was short, only about 5'7, couldn't weight more than 150 soaking wet and was only about 17 years old.