Colt. Fucking. Harrison.
The little pop-up’s I’d wished for before come back with vengeance. Reminding me not so nicely that I’m fucked.
“I’d say the feeling is mutual, but I’d be lying; and I must not tell lies,” I sneer at him.
“I see your sense of humor is still intact. I suppose we’ll have to break that again as well, now won’t we?” He begins circling around me like a vulture, ready to feed on my carcass.
“You know, I like you Addison. So, here’s what I propose. Come home to me, my Temptress. Submit yourself to me, bind yourself to me and we can rule together. I own you.I created you.Come back and we can take the power that’s owed to us.”
His eyes lock on me like a beacon as he perches himself in front of me with a ring in his hand. My eyes bulge as I take in the tiny piece of metal he’s holding and my breath catches somewhere in my stomach, refusing to move.
Is he for real? This must be a joke. There’s no way he could think… what the fuck is he on?!
I know he’s trying to appeal to the side of me that longs for a home. For somewhere I belong and to feel included. What he hasn’t seemed to figure out is that I found that place already and even if I hadn’t, it sure as hell wouldn’t be with him.
“Are you okay?” I ask in a whisper, leaning closer to him as much as I can. “Should I call someone for you? I hear brain damage is the silent killer, ya know.”
Colt stands, his gaze piercing as he tucks the jewelry back into his pocket. “One chance, Addison. Join me in every way and you will be free to conquer alongside me.”
“You see…” I cock my head to the side, holding his gaze as I slow my speech. “I’d believe you, but as you had to drag me here unwillingly, have me tied to a chair, and your goon-training-squad keeps trying to rough me up… I feel like you may not be all that sincere.” He walks back to me, leaning down to lock into my eyes. Searching for any sign of weakness or insecurity he can exploit.
“You little bitch,” he growls, straightening himself. “Fine. If you won’t be with me.” He turns, heading back for the open door. “Then no one will be allowed to have you,” he finishes, pulling at the slab of metal.
“Jack, she’s all yours. Make it fucking hurt for a long time and when she finally begs,kill her.”
Groaning, I look back at the man he called Jack and smile. “I don’t suppose you’d rather punish me in Monopoly, would ya?” I question and get a half mumbled grunt as a reply. “Didn’t think so.”
No matter what these guys do, I refuse to die here, in this room, at the hands of this dude named Jack. It would break my men. Break them in ways no one would be able to fix. I’m a survivor. I’m god damn Mikayla Arnet, top assassin in North America. I survived years of Dwight and Colt, of being on the run with nothing more than spare change. I will not go down tied to a chair, and sitting in my own piss-pants.
Chapter Forty
Mikayla
Everyone left after Colt declared my impending death to the room. Kind of a mood killer, if you ask me, but they’ve left me alone for a while now. If silence is their latest form of torture, I have to say it’s remarkably effective. The room I’m in is eerily quiet, save for the drip from a leaky pipe, and the sound of my heart beat.
Great, I’ll likely die a slow death from loneliness and dripping water torture, before they get around to the punching.
I have no clue how long I’ve been left to my thoughts, but their customer service is horrid. Would it kill someone to offer some water if they plan on keeping me around as an external punching bag?
Laying my head against the chair, I attempt to get whatever rest I can before they return. Which unfortunately for me, isn’t long enough. The thumping of footsteps echoes through the hall again, loud and boisterous enough you’d think hippos are prancing this way.
Right, back to torture time I guess.
The metal door creaks, the hinges squealing from the friction as Jack and another walk in. Both of their expressions are stoic, giving nothing away as to their plans, but I’ll be damned if I don’t get at least a half of a smile out of one of them before the days out.
Jack’s wearing a new ensemble, strutting around the room in a dark blue polo shirt and black slacks. A stark change from the suit he was wearing earlier. Now this outfit wouldn’t have given him away so much at the arena. His friend is dressed much the same way, donning a black band tee and dark jeans. Brown hair tied in a tight knot on the top of his head, and chocolate eyes that stare straight into my soul.
Must be casual Saturday at the office.
“Well, hello, fresh meat. My safe word is rainbow in case we get to the spanking portion of our evening. Although, you look more like a collar man to me. Am I right? Oooh, please tell me I’m right! I’ve got “collar kink” as a needed square on my kidnapper bingo card.”
The unknown man chuckles—I win—turning to look at Jack before leaning against the brick wall. Propping his foot against the side and crossing his arms, he glances at me with narrowed eyes.
“I like her. You sure boss said to give her a dirt nap? Can’t we play with this one a little bit?”
“Fuck off with that shit, Freddy. Her death has been ordered. Slow, painful, drawn out, and only once she begs for the release that death can bring her,” Jack chimes from beside me. A grin casting his face in an unrelenting evil.
New guy—Freddy—pushes himself off the wall and strides over. His arms dropping to his sides with thumbs hooked into the pockets of his jeans. Stopping just before my knees, he tilts his head to the side, staring at me like a museum piece he can’t quite figure out.
