Page 3 of Brutal Captivity

Before Daron gets a chance to respond, Fletcher rounds the corner, duffle bag in hand. “Got the goods?” I ask, by way of greeting.

“Yeah. The safe gave us a bit of trouble, but we finally cracked it,” Fletcher responds, holding up the black duffle bag.

“My safe?” Callisto’s outrage wins the battle this time. His dark green, wide-set eyes bug out of his head.

“I was wondering what was taking so long,” I respond, eyeing Fletcher.

“Hey, I brought down the whole security system and cracked into the safe in less than 10 minutes. What more could you ask for, Leo?" comes Evan’s voice from my earpiece. I smile and shake my head. Evan is a computer genius, but also sucks at taking any kind of criticism, even though I am not even criticizing him.

“My safe?!” Callisto’s voice cuts through the room… and my patience. I stick my finger in my ear, attempting to dislodge the horrible sound from my canal, but it imbeds into my skull and refuses to leave.

“Yes. Your safe,” I respond, in hopes it will get him to shut up. At this point, I’m about three seconds away from gagging him. At least his personal assistant, Nico Mendoza, has enough sense to shut his damn mouth. Smart… for an assistant.

“What did you take?” Callisto asks, biting his full, pink lips in worry. I roll my eyes. He should stop talking. “Not my art!” He doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t.

Ignoring Callisto, I ask, “Did you get everything on his list?”

Fletcher holds up the list, pictures of the items included, “Yup. Every last one. Some of it was hard to find. He’s got a lot of shit in there.”

“Hey! That’s priceless art you’re talking about!”

“Sir… it’s not worth our lives,” Nico whispers. Finally, someone with some damned brains in this godsforsaken ugly monstrosity labeled as a house.

“No. They will speak to me with the respect I deserve.” Callisto straightens his shoulders, tilting his chin up. He believes he is better than everyone in the room. No amount of snobby superiority can change the fact that he is on his knees in front of me, but it does make me want to see how long that superiority will survive once I gag him and drag him out of this mansion. How long it will take me to make him realize we bleed the same.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was in the presence of royalty.” I chuckle, but the sound has no humor. “What are you waiting for, boys? Bow down to the queen here.” I give Callisto my most wicked smile as Daron and Fletcher laugh.

He doesn't even so much as flinch, “Only a common person would make such a common and tasteless joke. Royalty is reserved for more mature countries, which this is not. But perhaps, you should bow to me because I am clearly better than you thieves in every way possible.” His gaze drifts over me with the sort of bored disdain reserved for something unpleasant tracked onto expensive carpet. He’s hiding it well, but I strike a nerve.

“You’re the one on your knees…. Princess.” I glare down at him, resisting the urge to throttle him. Even though he is below me, he somehow manages to level his gaze on me, as if we were eye to eye.

“Don’t call me princess, peasant,” he fires back.

Money. Money. Money. I chant to myself as I repeatedly ball my free hand into a fist and release it until I’ve regained some semblance of control. I’ve never met someone who makes me want to lose control like this.

“Sir…” Nico looks pained, glancing at me then at Daron who still holds a gun to his head.

Ignoring his smart assistant, “Whose list? What did you take?” Callisto’s eyes bounce between us, furious and defiant despite the gun pointed at him.

He should look terrified on his knees before me.

Somehow, he still looks arrogant.

“Ask one more question and your parents’ staff will be scraping you off this pretty porcelain floor instead of waiting for your safe return,” I threaten, growing tired of his tone and overall lack of respect.

“It’s marble you uncultured troglodyte!” He looks so offended I almost laugh. Instead, I level him with a look that usually brings men to their knees. Not Callisto Santos, though. He glares back, his green eyes narrowed in defiance.

“Alright. Let’s bag ‘em and get out of this tacky place,” I say, holding my pointer finger up in the air and making a circle.

“Tacky!?!” Callisto screeches, and I try to hide my smile. I only say it because I know it will piss him off. I usually don’t rile people up like this, but something about this guy makes it… fun. In my line of work, wearing emotions like a badge will get you killed, but Callisto does it without hesitation.

“Are we taking this one,” Daron nudges the assistant with his gun. I contemplate it for a second.

“Yeah,” I respond, going with my gut. He’s an assistant and shouldn’t be worth anything. But my gut says otherwise. And my gut is rarely wrong. We’ll decide what to do with him later. “Better to have him and not need him.”

“What did you do with my guards?" Callisto asks, as if the thought occurs to him. He runs his fingers through his espresso colored hair. It doesn’t do anything. The waves fall back into his eyes a second later, just where they were before.

“They’re incapacitated.” I grab Callisto by the elbow and yank him off the marble floor. He feels like he weighs nothing despite the fact that he is nearly 6 ft tall and has a relatively athletic build. He runs, at the very least. Probably does some yoga or Pilates or some other useless shit.