Ethan or Clay? Too big for Ethan, so it must be Clay. Before my lids slip closed, the figure steps into the square of moonlight cutting through the window. It’s Bennett. What’s he doing in our room?

Sitting up, I startle him. He whips his head in my direction. “He’s awake,” he whispers, pointing.

Rough hands grab my wrists. They’re wrenched behind my back.

“Hey!” I shout, groggily. “Stop!”

Scratchy twine pinches my wrists as my hands are bound. What’s happening?

“Let me go!” I arch up from the bed. Someone slams his body against mine. My face hits the mattress as hands grip my shoulders. The old man uses his body weight to hold me down. I struggle to breathe as terror grips me.

Bennett leans down until his face is a foot away. I fight to keep my eyes open, though the fatigue is heavy. Why is it so hard to wake up? The muddy water, the foreign taste. Those bastards drugged us.

“Get off!” I yell, though it’s muffled as the old man presses me into the mildewed mattress.

“Knock this ‘un out again, Ben,” the old man grumbles.

Bennett shakes his head. “Used up the last of the tranquilizer. Don’t matter, though. We’re all set.” Bennett heaves something onto his back—Ethan, drugged and hog-tied.

“You sonovabitch, put him down!” I scream.

I throw myself upward and buck off the old man, who crashes into the wall, sending plaster dust raining down. I try to stand, but the tranquilizers are too strong. My mind’s forgotten how to control my legs. I topple to the floor.

“Goddamn, Pop, hold him down!” Bennett sets Ethan on the floor and grabs hold of my legs just as I get them working. Rolling to my side, I kick out and land a blow to his ribs. He buckles, but recovers fast. He snags my pants and wraps both arms around my legs. I flop against him like a fish.

“Pop, get up and hold this bastard! Jesus! He’s gonna wake Clay.”

“Just kill ’im,” the old man shouts.

Bennett clutches my legs to his chest. Unable to find more twine, he wraps the blanket around them and pins them down. I growl. I spit. I fight against my bonds, but they’re knotted tight. The panic settles on me like a lead blanket. They’re going to kill us?

Bennett hefts my brother’s limp body onto his shoulder. The old man tries to lift me, but I squirm so much he can’t get a good hold. He looks at the unconscious Clay instead. “What ’bout your townie?” he asks.

Bennett looks back at Clay’s motionless form on the floor. “I told you, Clay stays here. He don’t need no part in this. Once we get our money, we’re gone.”