Page 8 of Brutal Captivity

“I’m not sure. I don’t think they planned to kidnap us. I think they just wanted my art. We were just there when we shouldn’t have been,” I reason, as my nervous hands fiddle with my heavy rings. I’m glad I don’t take them off to sleep. I would feel naked in this situation without them.

“How did they even know who you are or where you live? You’ve only been back in the states for six months.” I barely know who I am. Nico meant it more in the sense of who my family is, but I think about it more abstractly.

I don't know who I am. I was never forced to find an identity, my wealth becoming a dome over my head, allowing me to live in a shadowed bubble. I have always been rich, and that was enough for most people.

“Why would they? I’m sort of a nobody. I mean, yeah, my family is rich, and I have a rather expensive and priceless art collection, but in the grand scheme of things, I’m pretty much a nobody. If they wanted to kidnap someone my father cared for, they should have kidnapped him. He is the only person he cares for.” I look down in thought.

We both jump when the handle of the door jiggles loudly, and I find myself holding my breath. “Should we try to attack them?” Nico whispers, but everything feels like it is moving in slow motion.

“No. They have guns. They will just kill us.” My voice drops to a low whisper, my gaze glued to the door. Nico nods, and I wonder who is going to be on the other side. Will it be Fletcher and Evan? Maybe Peadar, who I can only assume is their boss. I hope it isn't one person in particular, but my heart drops when the gunmetal gray eyes of someone I have come to hate to fixate on me.

“Brought you guys some food.” Leo walks in holding a brown paper bag with the logo of a popular fast food chain on it, and if it weren’t for his eyes or his voice, I wouldn't have known him. This is the first time I’ve actually seen him. I scan his body for a weapon. I find none.

“Eww. I asked for a salad. I’m not eating that garbage.” I scrunch my nose in disgust, despite how good it smells. Leo sits the bag on the small table. “I only eat organic, non-processed foods. Fast food is disgusting, and your body reflects it." I look pointedly at Leo.

I try to ignore the fact that Leo’s body doesn’t reflect anything disgusting. Quite the opposite. Even under the material of his turtleneck, I can tell his body is muscular, his legs looking as though they could snap my neck. Definitely not the legs of someone who fills their body with fast food.

“Suit yourself, Princess. I don’t give a fuck if you starve.” Leo shrugs nonchalantly, and I cringe, sitting up straighter on the cot.

“Could you please not use that sort of language? It is immature and makes you sound uneducated, although… I suppose you are.” I cross my arms over my chest and glare at Leo. His liquid-metal eyes squint, and I know I managed to make him angry.

“Nice theory, Princess Belle. Too bad the research disagrees. Statistics show people who swear actually have a higher vocabulary. So technically, I'm the smart one here.” Leo’s voice is strong and unwavering. I am so taken aback by the response, I can't stop my mouth from forming a small ‘o’. Leo looks smug, obviously happy that he caught me off guard.

“Why are you feeding me if you are just going to kill me?” Nico asks, hope lacing his words. I am thankful for the change of subject because my face burns with embarrassment. How did a low life like Leo manage to refute my statement so easily?

Leo doesn’t answer, the silence filling the room. Leo grabs the back of the chair, dragging it out from under the table. The legs scrape along the concrete floor. He then straddles it, leaning his chest against the back of it. He folds pale, tattooed arms over the top of the chair.

I need to find a partner. Lack of intimacy is playing tricks on me, making my brain think that I'm attracted to someone as repulsive as a common criminal. I hate the way silence presses in around me. I always have an insistent need to fill silence with something useful. Something meaningful. Words. Music. Lyrics. Something. Silence is horrible.

“Ransom.” Leo’s answer is easy, and even though I was expecting it, my heart falls into my stomach.

“How long are you planning to keep us?” I ask.

“Long enough,” Leo says, not giving me a real answer. It’s infuriating.

“I’m not worth anything. I’m just his assistant.” Nico’s tone has taken on a hysterical quality. I know they didn’t mean him, though. Again, Leo doesn’t say anything. He stares at Nico, as if trying to fit him in a puzzle without the picture for reference. I look at Nico, too, trying to see what Leo sees.

Leo’s posture is relaxed, he moves his tattooed hands to rest on his thick, jean clad thighs. Every now and again, he pushes his hands through his short, dark auburn hair. The light in the room is dim, casting shadows over the contours of his face. I find myself wanting to sketch him, the lesson in shadow and highlight almost too good to pass up.

“I already told you, you’re not going to get anything.” When Leo looks at me with confusion, I rush to clarify. “Ransom. My parents don’t care about me.” I try to keep the sadness from my voice, but I don't succeed.

Leo’s brows are drawn, pity coating his features for a split second before he rearranges them back to cold indifference. I don't bother with my own, the loneliness I was feeling before, becoming more intense with my words. The reality of how few people care for me sits on my chest like a one ton lead weight. My throat tightens, cutting off my air.

“Aw, perk up, Princess. I’m sure they care enough about their only child to at least part with a couple mil.” Leo smirks at the nickname, and I want to punch him again. I have never wanted to hit anyone in my life, but no one has gotten under my skin like Leo. There is something about the way he talks and the smugness of his actions that irks me.

“They don’t. You won’t see a penny, so why don’t you just let us go?” I argue.

“Not gonna happen, Princess.”

“Stop calling me that.” My tone is sharp with the anger that licks my skin. The only way to describe the feeling flowing through my veins is hate. I hate him. He is smug and annoying. A criminal. I hate everything about him.

“You are a princess, though. Your family is practically American royalty. Born with a silver spoon in that big mouth of yours. Never had to work for anything a day in your life. How is that any different than a princess?” Leo asks, and I open my mouth to argue then shut it again, quickly realizing that I can’t. It’s all true, but that still doesn’t mean I like this low life calling me that.

“Look, I have money. Not as much as my parents, but I have money. I can pay for our freedom. Let us go; I’ll get you the money. We promise not to tell a soul what happened here and you can keep whatever art you stole from my safe.” I am on the verge of begging, it’s our only real hope.

My parents will not give them any money in exchange for my life. My dad doesn’t care about me. They would probably be happy to see me dead, if I’m honest. One less person using their money for nothing but stupid hobbies. I will no longer be a disappointment to them if I’m dead.

“Why would we do that if we can get five times as much from your parents?” Leo asks, and I can’t stop myself from pouting, all hope leaving my body once more. I shake my head because I know that’s not true, but I suppose they aren’t going to listen to me. They’ll be disappointed, but it will at least keep us alive for a few more days. Maybe we can figure out a way to escape.