AllFreeNovel
Share Us
There was something familiar lingering in the air, but she couldn’t quite pinpoint it. Not to mention, now didn’t seem like the time to assess the minor details when bigger problems were going on here, like survival. Survival would be good.
The large pair of hands eventually released her shoulders and the man circled ‘round from the back of her seat to stand in front of her.He was decked out in all-black tactical clothing from his boots, up to the cargo pants that hugged his muscular thighs, a long-sleeved shirt with black gloves on his hands, up to the mask covering the lower half of his face from right under his eyes downward past his chin, and a knit cap over the top of his head. The only exception to the all-black ensemble was that the mask had white markings on it to mimic the bottom half of a skull’s nose, jaw, and teeth.
When this new threat came to stand in front of her, his body went rigid for a split moment. It was indiscernible as to why.
Layne stubbornly refused to show any fear and coldly locked her gaze right on him. He leaned over with one gloved hand roughly grabbing her jaw as he gave a hard stare right back at her. “It’s just you and me now, princess. I’m only going to ask my questions one time, and you’re going to be a good girl and answer them.”
His voice rang low on the register with a dark undercurrent that suggested he was going to make good on any threats he made.
“Good luck with that.” Layne wasn’t going to give this theatric creep the time of day.
He chuckled in amusement at her confidence. “Now, tell me your name.” The strength of his hand prevented her from turning her face away from him, though she tried. His fingers digging into her cheeks were starting to become uncomfortable, even with her tolerance for discomfort.
“Betty White.”
He growled under his breath, releasing her jaw only to pull her up onto her feet by her upper arm. The masked man spun her around, wrapping one thick muscled arm around her waist, pinning her arms against her, and forcing her back against his chest. That’s when she felt the cold of a steel blade up against the bare skin of her throat. This man was a different breed than the other two individuals standing guard outside.
Her chest rose and fell heavily with her labored breaths as her fear spiked. Layne’s body tensed and she strained to keep her neck away from the sharp edge of the knife. She didn’t manage to get very far except leaning further back against the brick wall of his torso.
The coarse fabric of the mask brushed up against her ear and through the mask’s material, she could feel the warmth of his breath and smell the light scent of really cheap whiskey. “Do you want to reconsider your answer? I would be a good little girl if I were you.”
He dropped his voice down to a whisper, “You don’t want to find out what I do to bad girls.”
“And you don’t want to find out what I do to deranged psychopaths.” Her retorts were one of the few things that helped her from giving in to straight-up panic.
He tsked at her response, the knife now starting to apply more pressure against her throat prompting her to wince and draw in a sharp breath.The acknowledgment of defeat began to creep in, and she took a second to steady her voice. Still, it didn’t come out as strong as she would have liked. “It’s Layne.”
The masked man lightly dragged the tip of the blade along the length of her neck, the weapon threatening to break her skin if she so much as thought of speaking too loudly. “Mm, thank you. What’s your last name, Layne?”
The way he spoke her name made her feel something deep inside of her that should have been illegal. She hesitated to respond to him knowing damn well her family name could be a toss-up in either getting her out of trouble or catapulting her into a shit ton of it.
He wasn’t feeling very patient with her. The blade was removed for a split second, only for him to turn her to face him. His left hand grabbed a handful of the back of her silky strands of chestnut hair, tugging harshly so her throat was more exposed to him. The knife returned to its spot against the delicate skin covering her carotid artery.
“I can see your pulse in your neck. Do you know how excited that makes me?” If Layne hadn’t figured it out before now, it was confirmed that this man was definitely on another level of unhinged, unpredictable, and dangerous. Perhaps even as much as she was.
“O’Reilly. My last name is O’Reilly.” She didn’t need an unstable individual getting too antsy to spill her blood before she could strategize an escape.
“That’s a good girl. Let’s continue behaving, Layney, and this will be more enjoyable for us both.” He didn’t release her or lower the knife. Instead, he remained in his current position, and unless he was packing a lot more distinct weapons, it was clear he was getting plenty of enjoyment out of this from what she could feel.
The interrogation continued. “What is the 227 project?” He dragged the knife down over her collarbone in a slow and intentional movement.
Genuinely confused, she wrinkled her brows, “The 227 project? I have no fucking clue. Sounds like a terrible band name.” The masked assailant was silent for what felt like an eternity, so Layne decided now would be the time to try and stall to buy herself more time for a miracle opportunity to make a move.
“I swear, I have no idea what it is. Please, don’t hurt me.” She dialed up the emotions that danced over the words she spoke to appeal to any sliver of humanity he had. “I can get you money - however much you need.”
Her father’s words of wisdom to her, etched into her brain from a young age, were on repeat in her head; exhaust every option to escape from a bad situation, it is better to risk potential death than to do nothing and make it definite.
“Shut up.” His words weren’t yelled but they held a commanding tone to them. He needed to reassess if it was possibly true that she had zero knowledge of the project. His intuition told him that she wasn’t lying, not about this anyway.
The blade was taken away from her throat and rehomed back into a sheath at his hip. During that brief window of an opportunity where he didn’t have the knife readily available, Layne willed herself to make her move. She thrusted her foot in a front kick directly at his belt buckle driving the force from her hips. The angle wasn’t ideal but it was better than nothing.
Taken off guard by the impact of her kick, his footing yielded and he grunted upon contact. His hand released her as he bent over drawing in a sharp breath while his hand held the temporary discomfort of his stomach.
She turned and burst into a sprint for the only way out of this hellhole. Running with your hands bound together in front of you isn’t as efficient as one would like, but she had to go with what things were. No, she didn’t have a plan for what she’d have to deal with on the other side of the door but she had to handle one problem at a time.
Her fingertips had just grazed the stainless steel door handle before her body was lifted by the waist, feet coming off the ground. Her legs kicked wildly as she yelled like a banshee. “Let me go!”
The struggling and thrashing seemed to have little impact as the skull-masked man utilized his strength to carry her back to where she had been previously seated. He harshly exhaled as he dropped her onto the ground in front of the folding chair.
