"Asshole," I muttered, taking a step.
Every step sent blinding pain that stole the breath from my lungs. But I kept moving.
One agonizing step in front of the other.
Hours passed. Or maybe minutes. I couldn't tell anymore.
Everything blurred together. The heat, the pain, the endless trudging through red dirt that seemed to stretch forever.
The blisters had gone from bad to unbearable. Each step was torture. I limped badly, favoring my right foot, then my left, then both. There was no position that didn't hurt.
My vision swam at the edges, dark spots dancing in and out of focus. My legs gave out.
Mitch caught me before I hit the ground. "I've got you," he murmured, scooping me into his arms.
"What are you doing?" Doug barked.
"Carrying her." Mitch's tone left no room for argument.
Doug glared but said nothing.
Being carried should've been a relief. But my throat was closing up, and every breath was dry and painful.
Dehydration. I was a scientist. I’d studied animals that had died without water. Bones clustered around watering holes for a reason.
I knew the signs. Knew how debilitating it was. And how deadly.
"Almost there," Mitch kept saying. "Just a little further."
But I didn't believe him anymore.
Doug was muttering again. Fragments about his daughter, about the jewels, about people who were going to kill him if he didn't pay. He kept fiddling with that velvet pouch, the gems jingling in his fingers as if he needed the sound to keep going.
"I know why you're doing this, Doug," I tried to reason with him. "To save your daughter."
"Exactly," he said. "They'll hurt her."
"But how do you know? Maybe they're just threats."
He released a sick chuckle. "Oh, they're not just threats. I've seen what they do to men like me. Men who can't stop betting. I should’ve stopped after they..." He didn't finish, and I almost felt sorry for him. "But they gave me more money, dragging me deeper."
My sympathy evaporated. I'd already suffered because of what Marcus had done to me. Now, I was suffering because of Doug. Two selfish men and their selfish choices, and now I was paying the price again. His daughter was, too. Another innocent person who'd suffer because of his selfishness.
"They sent me pictures of Roxanne, you know. Told me what they'd do to her. The torture they planned. It tore my heart out."
"Yeah? What about me?" My voice was hoarse. "I'm being tortured right now because of your choices."
"Put her down," Doug suddenly ordered, his voice sharp. "She can walk."
Mitch's arms tightened around me. "She can barely stand."
"I don't care. Put her down. Now."
A fierce growl rumbled in Mitch's throat as he lowered me to the ground. My feet touched the dirt, and agony exploded through my heels. I gasped, stumbled, and crashed onto my hands and knees.
Mitch reached for me, squatting down.
Doug jabbed the rifle into Mitch's back. "Get her up."