I tried opening my eyes, but the world was filled with lights that were too bright to look at. Then someone forced my eyelids open and let the burning sun blast me.

“Look at his eyes!”

“They’re hemorrhaged. Concussion … might be a skull fracture.”

I wondered what that was. I knew that I should know.

More hands on me, under my arms, lifting. Pain was a defining characteristic of the whole universe.

“Watch his head.”

I heard a dog barking. Funny. I used to have a dog when I was a kid, but he died. How could he be barking now?

“He’s coming out of it … watch, watch!”

“Top, hurry the fuck up. They’re coming!”

A rattling sound. Loud pops. Some screams too. I wondered what movie we were watching.

“Warbride … get those cocksuckers!”

Pop! Pop! Pop!

I had the weirdest sensation, like I was floating along on just the toes of my boots. Gliding.

More pops and bangs.

“Go—go! I’ll hold them here. Get him out of here.”

No, I tried to say. I wanted to see the movie. I tried to pull away.

“Don’t let him go!”

“Juice him, damn it. Give it to me. I’ll do it, give it to me.”

There was a pinpoint of cold heat on the side of my neck.

And then nothing again.

This time the nothing was wonderful. If it was death, then I liked it.

Chapter One Hundred Twenty-five

Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Five

Aghajari Oil Refinery

Iran

June 16, 7:49 a.m.

I woke up in a truck that smelled of diesel oil and fertilizer. The first thing I was aware of was pain.

Everything hurt.

Every.

Single.

Thing.

The worst was my head. It felt like the Hindenburg after the fire started. Even my eyebrows hurt.

I opened my eyes but everything was a pale and uniform white. No details at all.

My neck didn’t hurt as much, but I couldn’t move it. I couldn’t move anything. When I was able to separate the painful things that were my ankles and wrists from the bigger painful thing that was my body, I realized that they were held fast.

I was tied down. I could feel bindings across my chest, my waist, my thighs.

Panic surged in my chest.

Who had me? The Iranians?

The Red Knights?

My mind hit a wall going eighty miles an hour.

The Red Knights. What about them? Why was I afraid of them?

Sure, there was the goon back at the hotel, but he was dead. Had I met another Red Knight? If so … where? Everything was so—detached. I fumbled for pieces of my mind but they were slippery and they rolled away.

Where had I been? If I could remember that maybe I could figure out where I was now.

I told myself not to move. My inner voices echoed this.

Don’t let them see that you’re awake, cautioned the Warrior.