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Forcing his presence to appear smaller, he walks over to me with his shoulders hunched. I know it’s simply a ploy, but I can’t get a read on him. There’s no way for me to tell what his next move is, which means I can’t brace for it either.
I want to scream, thrash, and threaten to kill him. I don’t. Refusing to speak unless spoken to, I’m trying to lessen the target on my back. Sadly, the target is a giant red mark that I will never be able to get rid of as long as Heckles is alive.
“Perhaps you’d love to spread your legs for my men, hmm? Give them that thrill of playing with your blood the way I loved to?” My face burns hot, the anger inside my body slowly threatening to reach boiling levels. I need to get myself under control and not give him the satisfaction of working me up. It definitely doesn’t help that my brain is screaming for reprieve and the soaking clothes on my body mixed with the cold air are starting to affect my thinking.
“I don’t think she’s interested,” another guy laughs like I’m the most hilarious joke in the world. Which, I suppose, would be correct. I’m just the funniest mother fucker around. They will see how fucking funny I am once I get out of these goddamn restraints.
Opening my mouth to give them a piece of my mind, my chin won’t open. Trying to pry my mouth open, I finally feel something sitting in my mouth. Blinking slowly, I adjust my jaw and realize there’s metal on my face.
How the fuck did I not see that before. Why didn’t I feel it? As a matter of fact, I still don’t really feel it. I attempt to scrunch my nose. Either it doesn’t move or my face is numb.
There’s no amount of effort I could use to make my words make sense. Jerking against the restraints angrily, Heckles whips around with a wide, evil smile. It’s the one I saw right before he almost killed me…
“Ah! She finally figured it out!” His hands smack together with a loud clap, sending a painful zing into my skull. Like bouncing off a wall, it reverberates around my head for a few moments. My eyes slam shut on their own accord, and I do my best to stop the slamming pain from worsening. The light of the room is so bright that I can see it from behind my eyelids, and it doesn’t give me any reprieve or relief.
My head is swiftly yanked back, the force of the pull causing a painful pop in my neck that surges down my spine. A garbled cry rams its way through my mouth and escapes into the air around us.
They cheer, whooping and hollering along with the deep voiced male behind me. I can feel them getting closer, their breath coating my wet hair and over my ear.
“You think you can get away from me, little girl? You think I will just let you go? You’re in for a real treat, naughty girl.” Shoving my head forward, he kicks the legs of the chair from the side. I don’t think anything of it, until the sounds of groaning wood echoes from under me. Freezing, I don’t make any moves because I don’t want to force it into breaking. There’s no movement for several long moments.
Their cheers of victory continue to grow louder, more vicious. My vision is still hazy, fogged over from fatigue and pain, but I can finally make out who the figure is. His jacket is the same as earlier, and his body isn’t quite as hunkered down as mine is.
His head is dropped to his chest. I can’t tell if he’s even breathing, until he tilts up just slightly, winking at me from the corner of his eye.
Furrowing my brows, I can’t decide what to make of anything.
Tornado and Heckles knew each other. They weren’t strangers, but I don’t think I would classify them as friends, either. Heckles mentioned something about switching sides, something about Tornado betraying someone.
As I wrack my brain, I’m so tempted to scream at everyone to shut up so I can think. Two reasons that I can’t do that. One, because of this fucking device strapped around my head. Two, because I would rather stew in silence than announce that I’m planning their murder. However, if they were smart enough, they would know that I was planning it either way. If I don’t make it out alive, Prez knows all of my torture secrets.
Or at least he should, unless he wasn’t paying attention when I explained different ways to kill someone.
That brings me back to the conversation at the drop spot. Tornado led me to believe that he orchestrated everything. So, was the informant real? Was this just one giant set up?
I’m usually the one who reads through everyone’s bullshit, but I don’t think I would have caught this one from a mile away. Though, this would explain how he knew exactly who it was that startled me all that time ago…
When I collapsed on stage after thinking I saw him, Tornado immediately knew who I was talking about. There’s no way that he would have that information unless someone told him. Which then leads me to now try and figure out who the fuck would divulge that. If I didn’t know any better, I would instantly blame Prez for outing my secrets. He’s been doing that since Tornado has been involved, but I don’t think Prez saw who it was.
Shaking my head, I realize there’s far too much happening here. Another groan from the wood makes me realize my mistake. The sharp crack doesn’t make its way to my brain. I can only register that I’m falling, and no one is there to catch me.
Chapter Thirty
Tornado
Having chloroform shoved in your face definitely doesn’t bode well with your nervous system. The rolling in my stomach is just one of the symptoms of the shitty stuff. I can feel the heat building in my face from holding back the hacking cough I’m working hard to suppress. My body is confused as fuck right now. I’m both tired as fuck, but I feel like I could throw a bus.
When Heckles kicks her chair, I have to physically restrain myself from looking at her. The wood definitely crushed under his foot. Glancing around from under my eye lashes, they are focused on her. The group of guys are spitting at her, laughing at her expense. She’s having an internal struggle that I could definitely relate with. I would like to think hers is probably on a deeper level.
I can see the moment she realizes that she fucked up, confirming my thoughts. She was trying to not move, trying to stay as still as possible, but her thoughts caught up to her. All of the idiots in the room are throwing a fucking party around us while Leather tries to stay as still as possible. Winking at her, I want to show her that I’m okay, but I will be honest, I don’t think it helped anything.
Being as discreet as possible, I’m able to track only one official entrance and exit. There’s no windows or vents in the room. It’s made of concrete from ceiling to floor.
Her chair sways. The groan finally snaps, and she topples to the ground. I brace myself for the land. No one is concerned about me, all focused on watching Leather fall. It happens in slow-motion for me. Her brows pinch together, her matted hair flows outward before the sharp crack of her head on the hard floor. Blood pools around her almost immediately, the dark lighting barely making the darkening of her hair visible.
Cheers grow louder after watching her tumble down. It’s a power move also, because now she’s fallen from her status and is considered to be nothing. She’s no better than the gum found on the bottom of a shoe.
The crackle of a can opening startles me, and I’m praying to any higher power that they didn’t see me jolt.
