Page 12 of Brutal Captivity

I know Leo isn’t asleep even though his breaths are even and steady. Every few minutes, he takes another sip from his coffee, not even opening his eyes to look at the cup. I probably should be taking this time to consider an escape plan, but I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from the other man occupying the vehicle. I cannot deny that Leo is pretty even with his day-old scruff covering his cheeks. While I am studying him, my mind is racing with the questions about today, mostly surrounding Leo’s motives.

“Why aren’t you going to tell your boss that we tried to escape?” I blurt the question out before I even have time to reconsider, which is definitely not like me. The stress of the situation is making me think and behave differently. I don’t like it. I may not have ever known who I am, but I’m definitely not someone who hits people over the head or speaks before I think.

“Don’t want him to kill you… or us.” Leo doesn’t even open his eyes when he answers. His slim shoulders shrug as he brings the hot coffee up to his lips, tilting his head a bit to take a sip, firm lips puckered around the rim of the cup

“He sounds like a terrible person.” I take a sip of my own drink for lack of something better to do. The van is moving much faster now, as if there are not as many traffic lights. My body is swaying with the bumps and turns on a road that I cannot see but I know that it is under me. It makes me uneasy not knowing exactly where I am going, but I try to take a few deep breaths, telling myself to pretend I am in the back of a limo.

“He’s not.” Is all Leo offers, his eyes still closed.

“He kills people.”

“It’s not always so black and white.” He opens his eyes slowly to peer at me before shutting them again.

“Yes, it is. You don’t get to excuse murder because someone occasionally does something good.” I squint at Leo.

“I don’t owe you any explanations about Peadar or myself. I’m just saying that not everything is how you perceive it.” Leo’s voice is stern and unwavering as he takes another sip of his coffee. I mirror the action, letting the warm liquid work its way down my throat.

“That’s a cowardly excuse. You are just trying to justify your own bleak existence by taking up for him.” I pronounce the last word carefully. I know I am making Leo angry, but that’s the point. He needs to realize that he is no better than his boss by being a bystander and participant in his horrible actions.

“What are you, five? The world isn’t that simple. As I’ve said, it isn’t black and white. The world is made up of a lot of gray, but you refuse to see that. You just want to live in your perfect little bubble and convince yourself that your moral code is so much higher than mine.” Leo's eyes are alight, molten silver standing out even in the darkness of the van. He reaches into his shirt collar, pulling out a gold pendant hanging from a chain.

“I know what’s right and what’s wrong.” I have won this argument. How can he refute that? He rubs his necklace absentmindedly. I squint at it. It looks like a lion's head. Has he always worn that?

“Do ya?” Leo asks, eyes squinted at me as if he is studying me. I want to squirm, but refuse. Instead, I take another sip of my coffee, almost spilling it when the van hits a pothole.

“There is a line, Leo. Some things are right and some things are wrong. Murder belongs on one side of that line,” I say, drawing a line through the air.

“Right and wrong are just terms people use to feel safe. They’re subjective. You draw your lines based on your comfortable little life, and I draw mine based on survival. Who’s to say your definitions are better than mine just because you got lucky?”

My mind spins with Leo’s words. I have never thought about it like that. I hate to admit it, but he has a point about certain concepts being subjective. Art is subjective. I don't know the life he has led but then again, he knows next to nothing about my life either. He assumes that since I am rich, everything comes easy for me, but it doesn't.

“What if someone were attacking you or someone you loved and no amount of beating them off worked, but you had a gun?” Leo asks, and I stop to think about the question.

“I would shoot them in the leg or something. Not kill them but slow them down,” I finally respond.

“Not even a shot to the leg would stop someone who is wired on meth and sees you as the ticket to their next high. They just keep coming.” Leo watches me as if he is trying to see my brain work.

“Anything is a better alternative than taking an innocent person’s life.” I shake my head, but I’m not sure if I truly believe the words I am saying.

“The person in question isn’t innocent. Everyone’s a sinner in their own right. Your boxes of wrong and right are easy for you. I get it. They make it easy for you to understand the world, but some things are done to survive, so don’t spew your bullshit at me when you have no idea what it’s like to live the life I lead.” Leo takes a sip of his coffee as if he didn’t alter my perception in some small way.

My mouth opens, gaping at Leo because a very small part of me wants to admit to him that he’s right. That no one is innocent, but I still think that killing and violence are wrong. They are never the answer but thinking that makes me a hypocrite. Didn’t I hit someone in the skull as a means to survive? My body jolts forward a bit when the van comes to a complete stop.

Leo looks around, as if he is waking up from a trance and says, “Looks like we’re here.”

“Where is here?” I ask, grateful for the change of subject. The door slides open. Leo hisses in pain, placing his hand over his eyes. Fletcher’s silhouette is outlined, the sunlight filtering around his body and into the van, breaking through the darkness.

“My place,” Leo answers, after taking a deep breath. My brain stops working at his answer.

“What?” I ask, emphasizing the harsh consonant. He can’t be serious. I peek around Fletcher’s shoulder, finding a large brick house. I don’t know what I expected Leo to live in, but I didn’t think it would be so… normal. I have no idea where we are, but it looks like any other house that can be found right outside of the city limits.

“Peadar wanted us to move you to a safe location because we needed the room in the warehouse. He said the only place he trusted you to be is with me. Nico’s at Daron’s house,” Leo tells me, and Fletcher gestures for me to get out of the van first.

When I step out on a paved driveway, I look around. We seem to be behind the house. There is a tall iron fence surrounding the perimeter. I don’t see any nearby houses, so perhaps we drove further outside of the city than I had originally thought.

“There was literally no other place in the world besides your house?” Leo slowly stands. Once he is on his feet, he sways from side-to-side, as if dizzy. He shakes his head, wincing at the movement. I barely stop my hand from reaching out to help him emerge from the vehicle. My hand is a traitor. I need to have a conversation with my hand and tell it that it doesn’t want to help the person who kidnapped us.

Instead of my hand reaching out to help Leo, it’s Fletcher’s. He wraps his long ringed fingers securely around Leo’s waist, brows creased in worry as he helps Leo out of the van. Leo leans into him for a few seconds, using Fletcher’s strong frame to steady himself.