His brothers and Knox waited quietly.

Gabe looked at Bull. “I’m going to check the back. Maybe get an idea of what we’re facing.” Coordination without comms was going to suck. “However, if the chopper arrives, you do whatever you must to keep Audrey off of it. If they lift with her onboard, she’s dead.”

Expression rigid, Bull nodded. His pistol was in his hand.

Gabe motioned for Caz and Knox to follow. Staying in the forest shadows, he circled to the back of the cabin. Stationing the others to guard his flanks, Gabe crept up to the back wall. The window shutter was closed, but the aged wood had warped, leaving large cracks.

He looked inside.

Hanging from a wall hook, a kerosene lantern illumined the single room.

There was Audrey. Alive. Gabe pulled in a breath at the rush of relief.

She sat on the plank floor, her shoulder against the left log wall. Her wrists were handcuffed behind her back, but her legs were free. Her soaked, tangled hair was filled with twigs and dirt. Mud, scrapes, and bruises marked her face and bare arms. Her T-shirt was ripped.

Although she trembled visibly, her head was up.

Yeah, that was the woman he loved.

Focus, MacNair.

Five men in the room.

Face pale, Baumer sat on the floor, his only weapon a sheathed belt knife. Maybe Spyros didn’t trust him? Fabric wrapped around his wrist was stained with blood.

A barrel-chested, buzz-cut blond leaned against the front wall. His shoulder holster held a handgun.

Two more thugs sat on a plank bench on the right wall. More pistols.

The last man…

From the photos Dennison had sent, Gabe recognized Spyros. Of course, the sunken right eyelid made his identity obvious. Short black hair. Several days unshaven.

With a pistol holstered at his hip, Spyros sat on a tree stump chair beside Audrey. He held a Bowie knife, flipping it repeatedly, watching Audrey like a weasel hunting a mouse.

Catching the knife, he said something to her—and drew the knife down her arm.

Gabe’s jaw clenched.

Making no sound at all, she flinched. Gabe saw blood trickle down her upper arm…joining tiny streams from previous cuts.

Red, the color of her blood, filled Gabe’s vision, hammered at his head, filled his world until every inhalation seemed hotter than fire.

He bit his lip until it bled, then backed up, silently.

If Spyros was toying with her, they had time.

“This is just a sample, a hint of what awaits you, poutana,” Spyros grated. The knife sliced down Audrey’s arm again.

Teeth clamped together, she forced herself to remain still…because if she moved, he cut deeper.

Her skin split under the finely honed blade. A second later came the searing flash of pain and hot oozing of blood. Turning her face away, she blinked away the flood of tears. Her whole upper arm was one throbbing mass of pain.