[Sasha Girl]

I come back to consciousness with a start. Feeling multiple hands on me, I cry out “no, please” and immediately begin to thrash around. It takes the men holding me quite a bit of effort to restrain me, without the use of force. That is, until Wolfgang’s deep, friendly voice snaps me out of it.

“It’s ok, honey. It’s ok. We’re here to help you, remember?”

His tone is soft and soothing, transferring his calm to me as though by magic. Freed of my panic I gaze around me in a daze, feeling at once relieved and ashamed. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” I stammer, tearfully.

The powerful, black-clad men stare at me in silence, before exchanging meaningful glances. Confused, I turn to Wolfgang. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, honey,” he says, quietly. There, he pauses and I watch a muscle in his jaw working tensely. At last, he lets out a loud sigh. “You’ve been through a lot,” he says, with feeling. “It will take you some time to recover, I’m afraid. One thing I can guarantee, though – no one will ever hurt you again.”

He sounds so self-assured that I almost believe him. The only problem is, I don’t think he knows whom we’re dealing with.

“The Surgeon…” I begin, but he cuts me off with a shake of his head.

“Dead,” he says, adding casually: “As are all the others, that tried to stop us.”

Obviously thinking the conversation over, he turns around and gestures at one of the men. “We need some fresh bandages, stat!”

It’s a good thing he can’t see the expression on my face, right then. The reason being, I’m in shock – thinking about Damien, wondering whether he is still alive. If he was in the hallway when the squad came sweeping past… My chest constricts painfully at the thought.

“Hey, are you ok?” someone asks, startling me. I nod my head hurriedly, hoping that will suffice. I’m in no condition to answer any questions, especially in regards to the Surgeon’s son. Unfortunately, this particular hope is soon dashed, when I hear Wolfgang say: “By the way, your lover will be here shortly. Just as soon as Gabriel has finished with him.”

I gape at him, open-mouthed. “What… what do you mean?” Several of the men smirk at this, as if to say “please”. Blushing furiously, I try to change the subject, by asking: “Who is Gabriel?”

This last question is met with broad grins, all around. As before, it is Wolfgang who answers.

“He’s our leader,” he informs me, and there’s no mistaking the quiet pride in his tone. In response to my stunned expression, he adds: “I guess I should’ve corrected you earlier. But it didn’t seem important… Besides, you weren’t far off. I’m his second in command.”

I ask no more questions after that, allowing him to bandage my wound in silence. He does so quickly and skilfully, just like a professional nurse. As he tucks the last of the bandage into place, I feel compelled to compliment him: “You’ve done this before.”

It’s an innocent enough remark, but it’s open to innuendo and he takes merciless advantage. “That’s what all the girls say,” he replies, winking mischievously.

My indignant response is cut short by the arrival of the rest of the party, with Damien in tow. The moment I see him my heart skips a beat, and I have a hard time stopping myself from calling out his name. He, on the other hand, has no such qualms. Lurching forward violently, almost pulling his captors off their feet, he shouts at me from across the room: “Jane! Thank God you’re alive!”

Gazing at his rapturous expression, I can’t help but smile. It is a private moment in an otherwise crowded room, during which I have eyes for him and him alone. Accordingly, I fail to notice the rest of the men observing me carefully. I am finally brought back to earth when I hear someone say: “Well, that settles it… You owe me twenty bucks.”

I tear my gaze away from Damien and frown at the men around me. “What’s going on? What’s settled?”

They grin at me sheepishly, as they explain: “We had bets on whether you were really in love with him, or just a victim of blackmail.”

Before I can reply, so as to either confirm or deny the allegation, a deep, authoritative voice declares: “It doesn’t matter what she feels. Either way, she’s been compromised.”

Without a doubt, it is the leader speaking. I didn’t pay much attention to him earlier, but now my gaze is drawn to him like a magnet. Tall, dark haired and undeniably handsome, he glides toward me on silent feet, oozing confidence and strength – and power. I’ve met some important men during my illustrious career, but none of them can truly compare. The leader of the mysterious squad wears his power like a second skin, commanding the attention of everyone around him, without conscious effort on his part. This is why, when he comes up to me, I make the point of being the first to speak.

“You must be Gabriel,” I say, keeping my voice level. He arches an elegant eyebrow in my direction, simultaneously fixing me with his pale, blue-grey gaze, so like a wolf’s that it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I’m forced to swallow the rest of the greeting in order to hide my nervousness, but as the silence stretches between us, it becomes more and more apparent. Still, it’s difficult to remain calm when you’re as vulnerable as I am, at this moment: naked, sitting up on a stretcher and surrounded by heavily armed men.

Finally, I can take it no longer. Wrapping my one good arm around my waist, I look down and away for just a moment – which turns out to be two, and three, and four… I’m still counting the seconds, curling into myself, when I feel his hand on my neck. Startled, I flinch and go to pull away, but his other hand on my shoulder stops me.

“Relax, little girl, just relax,” he instructs me, in that same authoritative tone I heard him use earlier. I tremble violently as I let him lay me down, partly from the cold and partly from anxiety. Then, there is the humiliation of having him handle me, his eyes roving all over my tortured body. I know he is looking me over, because I keep stealing glances every few seconds. Each time I do so, his focus is on a different part of my anatomy – at one point I even see him leaning down for a closer look. I’m on the verge of tears, silently praying for him to stop, when I feel his fingers on my thigh, tracing the long red mark that the Surgeon left there.

“Mmm… nice scars,” he says, softly. As my eyes fly open in surprise, I see that he means it. There is not a trace of ridicule on his face, only a dark excitement. I tremble when I see it, for it’s not the first time a man has looked at me like that.

On cue, I hear Damien growling in warning: “Take your hands off her, right now, or I swear I’ll kill you.”

From my particular vantage point, I can see Gabriel’s wolf eyes glowing, while he replies. “Calm down, Romeo. I may be a sadist, but I’m nothing like your late father, I assure you.” He lets these words sink in, before adding: “Besides, I have to touch her. Now tell me, where exactly did you implant the transmitter?”

It takes Damien several seconds to compose himself, in order to answer. When he speaks, the strain in his voice is clear: “My late father, as you so kindly put it, implanted it inside her… deep inside her. It would take a surgeon…”

“Just answer the question,” Gabriel interrupts him, coldly. After some hesitation, Damien does so.

“It’s in her womb,” he says, sighing. “Please, let me try and…”

Once again, Gabriel cuts in. “Out of the question,” he says, in a tone that brokers no resistance. “It just so happens I have some surgical skills, whereas you have next to none… although I do admire the lovely piercing you did on her clitoral hood.” Very deliberately, he reaches down and starts caressing my pubic mound, provoking a stream of curses from Damien -

“You son of a bitch! You mother fucker, miserable coward, you’ll pay for that! Fucking bastard…”

It hurts to listen to him, and I do my best to swat Gabriel’s hand away. In response, he leans down and whispers in my ear:

“It’s okay, little girl, I’m only doing it to test him. See, a man will say almost anything to save his neck, so when he told me he loved you I naturally didn’t believe him. I’m starting to believe it now, though.”

Oh great, just great. I’m being used as a pawn again, am I? Exasperated, I close my eyes. “Just get it over with,” I tell him, hoping that he doesn’t misinterpret my words. Since there is another way to “test” Damien’s feelings, which involves a lot more than gentle caressing of my privates.

To my relief, I hear Gabriel chuckle. “Don’t worry, we’re kind of in a hurry as it is.”

But then, as they spread my legs open and push the metal speculum inside my tight sheath, I can’t stop the cry that escapes me: “Slow down! Please!”

The response is instant and perfectly synchronised. The words “hold her down” are barely past Gabriel’s lips, and already I can feel the men’s hold on me tightening. Then, he is donning a surgeon’s mask, muttering: “Hurry up, slow down. Typical woman, always changing her mind.”

As I open my mouth to curse at him, I feel someone push a piece of leather between my teeth. “Bite down on this,” Wolfgang says, calmly. “And count yourself lucky, vixen. Remember how he said you’d been compromised? Well, if he really thought you’d sided with the mafia, you’d be dead now.”

I stare at him mutely, wondering why his words sound so familiar. Then it hits me. The fax, sent from the hospital where I was staying, said the same thing. “The agent known as the vixen has been compromised.” In the same moment that I think this, I hear Damien exclaim:

“It was you! You sent that fax to the FBI, not her! Jesus Christ, how did you manage that? I mean – how the fuck did you work it out?”

My eyes are still open at this point, and I can clearly see Wolfgang’s face light up in a smile.

“Ah, my friend,” he says, smugly. “If I told you that, we’d have to kill you.”