The same couldn’t be said for him. The traffickers knew exactly who, and what, Killian was, because it was the only way they would have known that more than a collar would be necessary. He didn’t even have to guess why he was there. The email he received two days ago had been simple and clear:Times Up. That bastard fucking sperm donor of his.
Fuck! He should have told Cyrus… He should have told the man the minute he’d gotten the first email, but NO, he had kept it to himself for months, because he had stubbornly decided he hadn’t needed any help.
Actually, it wasn’t even that. He had just wanted the person he loved to not be thoroughly introduced to the reality of his whole insane, psychotic family. Killian hadn’t wanted Cyrus to find out just how bad they really were, and how much he had…held back. Because who knew if the Fate would still want him if he knew the full extent of his damage…ha…
He swallowed hard. It was times like this that it would be nice if he could still cry. Killian’s gaze flicked to the large door on the other side of the room as it slid open. His mouth twisted in disgust when he recognized the man at the front of the mostlymuscle-bound party that approached the cage they were stuck in.
The Cryptid looked to be an inch taller than him, with black hair, tan skin, and a runner’s build. Whoever’s appearance the Skinwalker had stolen long ago, and now claimed as his own, was handsome enough, even classically so, with a strong jaw and sharp bone structure. But he knew well enough that this was not the original. Not that the Bureau had ever figured out what the man, who currently lived under the code name of Armor Ranti, originally looked like. This had been the Cryptid's appearance from the start of his very thick criminal file.
The thing about Skinwalkers, while they could steal the appearance of whomever they touched, it wasn’t permanent. Unless they killed the original and discarded their own appearance, leaving it behind with the dead, forever losing it, but gaining the other. Though the one thing they didn’t lose in that exchange was their pupil-less silver eyes, even if they changed when they took on the appearance of someone else.
As the group stopped, their eyes on Killian, the Skinwalker sneered, “Awake, are you, Killian Neftlem? Or should I say, Killian Nyvanus?”
He smirked. “Nice to see that you are just as brainless as I imagined you’d be, Riker.”
Riker Amarant stiffened up at the mention of his first name, his eyes narrowing.
Killian chuckled. “What? Didn’t think I would know who you are? Afraid I do. I got your full name, your past, and a list of your many failed ventures. I even know all about your sad and honestly pathetic love life. Or did you think I just sat on my ass doing nothing while looking pretty at the CEB all day?”
The man’s face was now red, Killian clearly having touched a nerve. “Regardless ofwhatyou know, itwon’tchange your destination, Siren!”
Tilting his head, his smirk widened. “I’m sure you think that. But let me tell you something else that I know. I know you will regret ever having decided to do a job for Thaitros Ortilan Nyvanus. But more so, you will regret kidnapping a grandchild of Emiliano and Annabella Voli.”
Riker took a step back, his eyes going wide as they flicked down to Skya, the redness giving way to pale blotchy skin as the idiot’s gaze only grew wider and more fearful when he no doubt recognized the little girl from the few times the news had managed to snap a photo of her while out with her two loving grandparents. Even if those photos had been taken down as swiftly as they’d been put up, nothing is gone forever once uploaded on the web.
While he couldn’t deny he felt a bit smug on telling the bastard this rather important bit of information, it was actually much safer for Skya if Riker knew exactly what he had in his holding cell. Because ransoming her back to her family was better than them not knowing who she was, and selling her off to Ceto knows who.
Killian just wished he could claim all of the other children there as ones being connected to influential families. But he couldn’t. And he was in no position to help them at that very moment. He could protect Skya, though, and he would, at the very fucking least.
“Y-you’re lying,” Riker stuttered, after a long stretch of silence and awkward staring on the Skinwalker’s part.
Killian threw his head back on a laugh. “Is that really a risk you are willing to take?! I can see it in your eyes, you recognize her. More than that, you know exactly who Severo Ambrose really is, I know you do. You two had a run in years ago, though it still burns his ass that you escaped.
“That being said, you also are a bit of a scandal addict. You saw those photos of her and him. You likely would have pickedup on who she was, and you never would have taken her if you’d come to grab me yourself. But the morons you sent to capture me, as efficient as they were in doing that, you know damn well they aren’t smart enough to know when to not stick their hands into a hornet’s nest, for coin that’s not worth the risk. And if you think you can get rid of her, and they won’t find out it was you, think again.
“Bella and Emiliano will use every fucking tool they have available to find her. And the person who took her…hah. I mean, they may appear to be on the right side of the law, but we both know what they are capable of, and what they have gotten away with. You’ve heard the rumors, Riker, the stories, and you know just how true they are.
“But if you are so unsure, you have my phone. If you haven’t already wiped it, I can open it for you, if you can’t manage on your own. Inside you’ll find pictures together of myself, Skya, and Bella. Check it out, and then I’d suggest you pray to whatever deity you believe in that they will let this go as long as she’s returned unharmed.”
Killian knew he could have used his connections and got ransomed as well…but he didn’t want to push it. Besides, if he was ransomed, then what about everyone else? He couldn’t just leave them, regardless of how it ended up for him. Killian had people who would come for him, but he wasn’t so sure that everyone here did. And he would not leave a single one of these poor people to whatever hellish life these fuckers planned for them.
Riker stared intently for a few moments more, somehow growing paler still, before suddenly he started to scream names. The man was ranting when he stormed off, his voice angry, but also laced with fear.
As the door closed behind the group, Killian sighed tiredly, and began to gently rock Skya when she whimpered again and started to cry harder.
“It’s going to be okay,” he lied.
“Kill-Kill,” the toddler whined.
“We’ll get out here, all of us, I promise.”
The question was…how?
Cyrus sat up in bed as he jerked awake, his eyes wide while the scenes that had been playing in his dreams continued to flicker through his mind. Not many of them made sense, but…itwasthe future…
At least, he thought it may be. There was screaming, and some of the sounds playing didn’t belong with the scenes, or they were possibly just out of sync. The rest aside, he clearly heard gunfire, explosions, and fighting.
Cyrus frowned as he forced the threads to appear. And they did, but trying to look deeper seemed to make the visions in his head scramble further, to the point of being nauseating. Even so, Cyrus kept trying. He kept looking as he didn’t know what else to do.
