I cry out in pain as my left shoulder is stretched beyond its natural range of motion, and my mind is blank with terror as the men march us out of what I can now see is a cellar.
My feet don’t seem to be under my command as I stumble along, and the only thing keeping me from toppling over is the grip my captor has on me.
The air is cool and damp as we emerge from the cellar of what looks like a log cabin, and I blink against the brightness from the sun as the men drag us away from the building and into a small area with a firepit about a dozen feet from the cabin. They jerk us to a stop when Xave and I are beside each other with a few feet of space between us.
The man holding my arms kicks the back of my knee hard enough that my leg gives out, and I fall to the ground with a surprised cry.
The guy who has Xave does the same to him, but unlike me, Xave is silent as he falls to the ground almost gracefully and lands on his knees with a hollowthud.
“Don’t fucking move,” the guy with the gun growls as he stands in front of us, pointing the gun at Xave, then at me. “How did you get free?” he demands, training the gun on Xave.
“Were they supposed to be hard to get out of?” he asks innocently.
The guy lets out a frustrated growl and shakes his gun at Xave menacingly. “Who are you?”
“Jonathan Greely,” he says in that same conversational tone from before.
It takes a second to remember that he told me he used a fake name to get into the rave, and based on how none of the thugs around us challenge his answer, they have no idea who he really is.
I flick my gaze to Xave, and he’s fucking smiling at our captors like he’s making small talk at a meet and greet.
How the actual fuck is he so calm right now? I feel like I’m half a second away from either passing out or pissing myself, and he’s as chill as can be.
“We know that,” the giant with the gun says irritably, confirming that they have no idea that’s not Xave’s name. “Butwhoare you?” He flicks the gun at me. “How do you know him?”
“I don’t,” Xave says, and his tone sounds bored now.
“You expect me to believe that?” He aims the gun at Xave’s head again. “Why were you at the rave?”
“Because I was invited,” he says slowly, like he’s talking to a toddler and not a behemoth of a guy holding a gun to his head.
“Why were you there alone?” The guy behind me asks gruffly.
“Because my date never showed.”
“Why were you standing by the wall the entire time?” The guy behind him gives his arms a rough yank.
“Because I was enjoying the music and it was a good place to stand,” Xave says in that same calm, bored voice.
“You went into the back room with him,” gun-guy accuses. “You expect us to believe that you don’t know each other?”
“The whole point of going in there with him isbecauseI don’t know him,” Xave says, sounding amused. “I had a chance to hook up with someone I just spent the last few hours fangirling over. I wasn’t about to pass that up.”
“Who is he?” Gun-guy swings his weapon so it’s pointed at my face. “Who is he?” he repeats when I don’t answer right away.
“I-I don’t know,” I stammer.
“Why did you go into the back room with him?” the guy behind me demands as he gives me a quick kick in the back of the thigh.
It isn’t hard, but the suddenness of the move startles me, and I let out another pathetic cry and jerk like he just electrocuted me.
“Why did you go into the backroom with him?” gun-guy repeats in a menacing tone.
“Because he’s hot and I wanted to suck his dick,” I blurt out, my eyes locked on the gun that’s still pointing at my face.
“We don’t have time for this,” the guy behind Xave says irritably. “Let’s get what we need, then deal with them.”
“Fine,” gun-guy says, and by the tightness of his voice, it’s obvious he’s not happy with that suggestion. “This is what’s going to happen,” he says, his focus back on us and his gun still pointing between my eyes. “You’re going to transfer the fee you were paid for the job to the account we give you. If you don’t, I’ll kill you. If you try anything, I’ll kill you.” He takes a step closer so he's only a few feet in front of us. “Got it?”
