Signal Fire Chapter 10

Signal Fire
Chapter 10

Tess slipped the bullwhip from the table and Chloe watched it uncoil like an endless snake onto the floor. She waved it around slowly, experimentally near her feet, as she strode about the room. She turned to smirk at Chloe in acknowledgement, then faced Oliver, lifting her arm, unfurling the whip completely.

“I won’t do it,” Chloe called out suddenly, her voice breaking the silence, causing Tess to stop in her tracks. “I won’t heal him again.” It took everything she had not to look at Oliver, strung up and broken some twenty feet away. Chloe did her best to keep the tears from falling, steeling her emotions, and keeping them in check.

Tess turned, lowering the whip. “Of course you will.”

If her statement delayed Oliver’s torture, Chloe would run with it. Tess just might be easier to manipulate than Chloe thought.

Chloe shook her head, feeling a bit more confident now. “I won’t.”

Tess moved closer, turning her back on Oliver, her attention now on Chloe. “You’ll heal him, willingly or not.”

Chloe’s eyes thinned. “You don’t get it, do you? I control my powers. You can’t force me use them.”

“We’ll just see about that, won’t we?” Tess spun around suddenly, unleashing the whip, the crack deafening as it struck Oliver’s midsection, and an instantaneous gash appeared across his torso. He cried out, white starbursts of pain shot through his entire body; stiffening at the painful shock, then convulsing briefly, before becoming slack once more, his head falling forward as he gasped for breath.

Chloe cried out with him, turning away, covering her face with her hands at the sight of his flesh ripped open; her own body trembling. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t do what he asked. She couldn’t be strong for him, and watch them torture and maim his body for their enjoyment. There had to be another way out of here, but nothing came to her, utter despair settling around her sinking heart. Chloe refused to watch, and thankfully no one forced her this time. She waited for the sound of the whip once more, but instead, Oliver spoke.

“Three or maybe…. Four is good,” his voice, hoarse and weak sounded from where he hung. His cruelly marred body still swayed lightly from the blow. “Even… an even number. Robert… and Laura would have… would have spoiled them all,” Oliver panted, a near chuckle escaping his throat at the thought, his battered face attempting a lopsided grin. He lifted his head with great effort, searching for Chloe once more. Slowly her hands fell away from her face and she turned around to gaze up at him through tear-blurred vision. “Gabe… Moira… will be proud…. We’ll take them… to visit… we’ll all visit her.”

A strangled sob escaped her throat, yet through her tears a smile formed. Chloe understood him, if no one else in the room did.

Tess looked from one to the other in disbelief as they held each other’s gazes, not comprehending at all. They’d both gone completely mad.

“What seems to be the trouble here?” Lex spoke as he strode into the room, dressed in a dark suit and a deep purple dress shirt, opened at the collar. All heads turned in his direction.

Tess straightened upon seeing him. “She refuses to heal him, and Queen’s gone off the deep end, talking nonsense.”

“Trouble in paradise?” Lex wondered, first glancing at Chloe who stared with rapt attention at the broken man suspended from the ceiling before her, seemingly oblivious to Lex’s presence. He then turned his attention to Oliver, equally entranced in Chloe’s gaze. He moved closer to his captive, trussed up before him and spoke softly. “She heals you, or you both die.”

Oliver didn’t answer, nor acknowledge Lex’s presence. His good eye focused only on Chloe.

“Whatever scheme you’ve worked up will fail. She heals you, because if she doesn’t…” Lex moved intimately closer, reaching up and grasping Oliver’s chin, forcing him to look Lex in the eye. “You’ll die, and I let your friend Cook over there enjoy himself with her before he kills her.” Oliver’s jaw clenched beneath Lex’s fingers, prompting him to continue with more confidence. “That’s right.” Lex spoke menacingly low, so that only Oliver could hear. “Why do you think I allowed him to guard her? He’s wanted to fuck her every way imaginable for quite some time. There’s a lot of sexual frustration built up by now.” Lex smirked as a new thought occurred to him. “Perhaps I’ll let you watch him use her,” Lex nodded in approval of his own suggestion. “And then we’ll kill you. But know this; when you’re gone, I’m keeping her around for her abilities, and Philip Cook gets to fuck her anytime he wants. Don’t think he hasn’t had his hands on her already.”

Oliver’s blood-filled nostrils flared in anger as he attempted to breath with his mouth clamped shut, rage evident in his expression despite his current disfigurement. What to do? He couldn’t protect her if he were dead, and yet he saw no way out, unless Philip would take her away, so that she could contact the team. But the thought of Philip raping her was too much to bear. Lex wouldn’t allow that, would he? He may have begrudgingly respected Chloe at one time, but apparently any esteem he may have held for her was long gone. Lex had him where he wanted him. Chloe would have to heal him now, or risk being assaulted. Oliver couldn’t stop the raw fury that knotted his gut at the thought.

“Oh he hasn’t taken her yet,” Lex purred. “But I can arrange a secret viewing just for you, Oliver.” Lex gripped his chin more forcefully. “She’ll scream for him in a way she’s never screamed for you.” Lex released his chin thrusting Oliver’s head back. He reached into his suit coat pocket, pulling out a handkerchief, a smug look crossing his features as he wiped Oliver’s sticky, drying blood from his hand. She’d heal Oliver now, Lex was sure of it. Oliver wouldn’t allow Chloe to be sexually assaulted.

“Son of a bitch,” Oliver snarled, and with a feral growl, swung forward with as much strength as he could muster, using his body to shove Lex backward, causing him to stumble and nearly lose his footing. Lex only smiled indulgently. He then removed his suit coat, handing it to a nearby guard. “Stand back,” he said to the entire room, and no one in particular, motioning for the guards who had moved forward, to back away. He rolled up his shirtsleeves, then extended his hand to Tess, gesturing for the whip, his gaze never leaving Oliver, who despite his condition and circumstance, looked as though he’d kill Lex at this moment if he could.

No one knew what Lex had said to make Oliver lash out, but evidently Lex was about to have the last word.

“How does it feel to be powerless, Oliver? How does it feel to be taunted? I can’t wait to see your reaction to what’s coming up next for you and Ms. Sullivan.” Lex moved the whip around menacingly, watching it slither around on the floor. “You and Clark took away a chance for me to further my goals when you got rid of Davis Bloom. Protect humanity from alien worlds. Eventually, people will look to me. I’ll be the hero, won’t I?” He looked up at Oliver. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Ultimately? The fight between good and evil?” He raised the whip. “This time… I win.” The whip unfurled.

Chloe lowered her head, turning away and squeezing her eyes shut, waiting for the sound, and even when the loud crack came followed by Oliver’s cry of agony, Chloe’s entire body jolted from the shock of it, and trembled along with his, as though she felt the cruel bite of the whip, ripping her own flesh. She heard the whip a second time and then a third, the pain of each strike coursing through her, until she could no longer stand on her own, sinking to the floor to her knees. She could barely breathe. And then silence.

Lex handed the whip back to Tess. “Take him down. Put them together. She’ll heal him now.”

Chloe lifted her head at the sound of Lex’s voice to find Oliver’s body deeply gashed and bloodied from the whip. He appeared to be unconscious, his body unable to take any more punishment. She couldn’t cry. It seemed she had no more tears left, and instead her expression became vacant, distant. She could make no connection to the man she loved; handsome, confident, and golden, with the near slab of meat that hung suspended, still swaying from his wrists. Aside from the blonde shock of hair and overall physique, he was nearly unrecognizable. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t her Oliver. It couldn’t be. She refused to believe that Lex had won. Hatred and rage roiling inside her for everything Lex had ever done; to herself, to her mother, to Clark and nearly everyone else she knew, and now to Oliver. She refused to cry.

Philip looked at her worriedly. She remained motionless from her position on the floor. Her face had gone slack, expressionless as the hum of the pulley sounded, lowering Oliver. Her eyes followed the movement, but she said nothing, nor did she seem to hear Philip when he said her name.

She watched numbly as they lowered Oliver’s body to the floor, unhinging the manacles from his bloodied wrists, vaguely aware of Philip’s hand grasping her arm once more, lifting her to her feet, and guiding her back to the room. People spoke, but she didn’t hear them. Someone, Philip maybe, urged her down into the large reclining chair in the room as two guards hoisted Oliver’s broken body onto the bed, tossing him there carelessly.

Someone stood before her, a dark figure blocking her view of the man on the bed. “He’s still alive, but he won’t be for long.”

When she didn’t respond, masculine fingers lifted her chin. She gazed into blue eyes that mocked her, taunted her, but still she said nothing.

“You’ll heal him, and then perhaps we’ll find some other entertainment,” Lex’s silken voice drifted to her ears, but what he said seemed meaningless to her. “Something Oliver and I’ve just discussed. Something I’m sure he’d enjoy.” When she made no response, and his voice didn’t seem to register, he crouched before her, gripping her chin with just a bit more force. “Do you understand me, Chloe?”

Three or four he’d said. Chloe had been an only child, as was Oliver, and maybe that was the reason why he’d wanted more than one. Secretly, she did too. She’d always wondered what it would be like to have a sister or a brother growing up. The closest she’d ever had to a brother was Clark. Robert and Laura Queen would have spoiled their grandchildren. Oliver was telling her not to give up hope. Not to give up on the future she envisioned. Gabe and Moira Sullivan would be proud. And once again Chloe’s heart swelled with remembrance of what Oliver had done for her mother long ago; hiding her away and keeping her safe from the monster who now crouched before her, asking her if she understood. Even then, Oliver had been there for her, before she’d ever thought she’d fall in love with him, or that he’d be the father of her unborn children.

“Do you understand me, Chloe?” Lex repeated, this time his ire rising.

She didn’t. She’d never understand Lex Luthor, nor did she want to.

Lex jerked her face up harshly. “Answer me, damn it!”

“Mr. Luthor. It’ll be all right. I’ll talk to her.” Philip’s voice from somewhere in the room. “I’ll get her to heal him, sir.”

Lex relented, releasing her and rising up. “Let me know when they’re both capable again,” he said as he stared down at her. He turned his attention toward Philip. “After she heals him, we’ll separate them. You’re the only one I trust with her, Philip,” Lex placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll look after her while she recuperates.”

Philip nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Lex gave the still unconscious Oliver a final glance before exiting the room, followed by the other two guards. The heavy door closed and the lock clicked.

Philip knelt before her, once again blocking her view of Oliver. She felt him take her hands in his. “Chloe,” he began, his voice deeply male and laced with concern. “You have to heal him.” Philip reached up, threading his fingers through the golden strands of hair at the side of her face. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “After you’re better, I’ll get you out of here, but you have to heal him first.”

Philip had been in combat, and he’d seen hardened men crack under the constant threat of death and devastation around them. She was going inside of herself, turning inward. It was a survival tactic, a human coping mechanism he’d seen before. He needed to reach her before she shut down completely.

“Chloe,” he whispered, fingertips stroking her lips.

She blinked, her green eyes focusing in what he thought was recognition. “Philip,” she murmured.

“It’s all right. I’m going to get you out of here soon.”

Chloe smiled softly, lifting her hand to touch his cheek. Her fingers moved, spearing his short hair, grasping the dark strands, pulling him closer. She captured his lips with hers, leaning back into the large chair, satisfied at hearing his groan of approval as he followed her down.

“Not yet, Chloe,” he panted against her mouth, attempting to pull away, but she wrapped her arms and legs around him, pulling him on top of her. He allowed it, surrendering to her against his better judgment; her kisses becoming ever more frantic and frenzied.

God she was hot, so incredibly hot, rubbing her body against him, grinding her pelvic bone against his growing erection, moaning softly in his ear. Philip thought he’d lose his mind as heat and raging desire washed over him. It was another reaction to impending death and danger, this sudden urge of hers. He didn’t care. God he wanted her, it didn’t matter that Oliver Queen lay unconscious a mere ten feet away. He’d take her right now, and not regret it. His hands shoved her shirt up, baring her breasts for him to feast upon. He relished the sensation of her warm, small hands that were suddenly everywhere; under his shirt, around his back, grasping his butt through his pants, moving around the front to undo the button, she unzipped them and began shoving them out of her way. It didn’t take long before Philip was rock hard and mindless with need of her, his head spinning.

Suddenly and most unexpectedly, Philip felt an object, hard and cold poking him brutally in the stomach, shoving him away. “Get the fuck off of me,” she growled, the deadly calm menace in her voice, along with the realization of what she’d done, startling him. Philip, panting, his brain still fogged and lust-filled, looked down to find the barrel of his own Desert Eagle shoved against his gut.

Still stunned, Philip didn’t move. Chloe held the heavy gun with both hands, and cocked it, the click letting him know she wasn’t kidding.

“Get off,” she ground out between clenched teeth. “Or I blow a hole through you right now, you son of a bitch.”

Philip raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. He moved off of her and stood upright, his pants opened, erection still throbbing painfully beneath the fabric of his boxers. “Chloe… you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I know perfectly well what I’m doing,” she barked, rising up from the recliner, her shirt falling down, covering her. “Move back toward the wall,” she motioned with the gun. “On your knees, hands behind your head.”

Philip did as she asked, watching her move backward toward Oliver.

“I can still help you, Chloe…”

“On your stomach, now,” she ordered. “Place your hands, spread eagle above your head.” Chloe waited until he complied, lying on his stomach and spreading his arms out above him. She inched her way closer to Oliver. Holding the gun in her right hand, she glanced down at Oliver, reaching for him with her left hand. He must have just awoken. A crooked smile on his badly abused face appeared as the rising heat of embarrassment flooded her cheeks. He winced at the pain, and then saw the glimmer of light, felt her healing warmth entering him. “God, I hope you didn’t see that,” she whispered almost to herself. She continued to touch him gently, just enough to heal him at least partially for now. Chloe, weakened slightly, was unable to stand, the arm holding the gun falling to her side; she sank onto the edge of the bed, sitting heavily.

Oliver took the gun from her hand, keeping it trained on Philip. “I saw enough, Sidekick.” He sat up weakly next to her, dried blood covered his face and torso, but his eyes were clear, and they never left Philip sprawled out helplessly on the floor. Oliver pressed a kiss to her temple, letting her relax against him, holding her close with one arm. More glimmers of healing light passed between them at the contact. “You do know how to work it. I can’t say I blame him. But I’m still going to kick his ass.”

She hated this part. Hated being incapacitated and useless. Chloe smiled up at him weakly. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, pressing her cheek against his throat.

“Don’t be sorry, angel,” he answered softly. “Thanks to you, we’ve got a weapon.”

“So much for your plan. I think it’s time you admit who’s the real brains behind this operation,” she quipped faintly.

Oliver smiled. “You know what they say. Behind every great man….”

“Is a woman rolling her eyes?”

Oliver chuckled. “Something like that.” He set her down gently on the bed.

“My brains, your brawn,” she sighed wearily, feeling more debilitated as he seemed to gain more strength.

“Exactly. It’s my turn now,” he whispered, brushing her cheek with gentle fingertips, telling her with his eyes and his touch of his love for her. He’d tell her with the rest of his body and with his words later, when they were away from this horrible place. But for now, he knew she heard his heart loud and clear. Oliver lifted his head, leaving her side and moving toward Philip. He raised the pistol. “Get up.”

“Look, Queen. She came onto me. I didn’t do anything to her.”

“Shut up. On your knees, face the door, away from me.”

Chloe lay on her side watching as Oliver brought the pistol down forcefully against the back of Philip’s head, effectively knocking him out.


End Chapter 10

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