Another scream. Louder this time.
Charlie sighs. I don’t react, but he leans in anyway. ‘You heard that, right?’
I stare back.
Of course I heard it.
The air smells thick with damp and dust – that typical warehouse smell you’d find in the middle of nowhere. I’m wondering if Charlie is enjoying the game more than the prize as I answer him. ‘Yes, Charlie. What do you want me to do, cry?’
‘Ah, the bravado. Let’s see how much fight you have when the lights go out.’
The roar of the chainsaw echoes through the walls, and my heartbeat slams against my ribs. He smirks, savouring the moment. I hear the chainsaw’s teeth clattering hungrily, and the screams get louder. The moment it roared to life, it wasn’t just a sound, it was a physical force that rattled through the walls, it vibrated in my bones. My ears ring with the mechanical sound as the violent clash of metal teeth spin too fast to comprehend. It’s high-pitched, relentless and hungry. At first, my brain struggles to accept what’s happening, clinging to the hope that maybe it’ll stop, maybe it’s just meant to scare me, but the truth is it’s none of those, because Stella is in there. The girl I was meant to kill, quickly, efficiently, is now dying a slow, torturous death. The dread is thick and suffocating, and my pulse throbs against my skull. My throat tightens, every muscle screams at me to move. But I can’t. The sudden rev, an aggressive surge of power makes my whole body jolt. Acid claws up my throat, my body is rebelling, and I lean forward, gagging because the fear is so intense it makes me wretch, like it’s trying to purge the panic. This I cannot hide, it’s visibly and violently so.
The sound that makes Charlie back away isn’t loud at first. It’s subtle, almost easy to ignore. It’s a fainttap-tap-tapagainst metal, and then comes something guttural and unnatural. He stiffens. His head tilting as he listens to the hum-turning into a distant rumble.
‘What the fuck is going on?’ he asks, rhetorically, as he turns and vanishes through the doorway, leaving me and the hooded guard behind.
Now we’re alone, it’s time to get out. The guard watches me, unmoved by the atmosphere and whatever it was that sent Charlie running. I stare at the floor. Thinking. Hard. Every option, every escape plan flashes through my mind. Then, something snaps. I throw strategy aside, any logic ebbs away. For the first time in ten years my breathing becomes ragged. Words spill from my mouth too fast – I’m bargaining, pleading. My voice cracks between rage and desperation. I lunge forward, my eyes wild. I know I’m a man unhinged – slowly unraveling, breaking free from his cage. I’ve spent years mastering restraint. Composure, that’s what Mr Lewis’s father taught me. He pulled me from the fire before I burnt everything in its path, because before that, I was on a path that would have destroyed me. Because someone I loved died. And when she was gone, the anger, the violence, it became all I knew. He saved me from that - showed me another way. Now that seems like a distant memory. Charlie took Stella. My toy. And now they’re hurting her. Or worse, he’s already killed her. Something inside me snaps. The guard is watching me, unaware he’s standing in front of a man who no longer cares about reason.
‘Do me a favour would you, and remove these clips off my cock.’ Being tied to a chair makes persuasion harder, but my words have presence – they’re still weapons. I lick my bottom lip. ‘You saw Charlie run. He knows what’s coming. You think you’re safe just standing there like some goon?’
Silence.
I exhale slowly, my eyes purposely flicking past his shoulders to the doorway. His eyes shift like he’s listening. His breathing hitches, but still he doesn’t react, apart from a slight shift in his posture.Doubt.
I lean forward as far as the restraints allow, my voice dropping to a whisper. ‘You got family?’ he stiffens, but doesn’t answer. ‘Do you really want to be the guy who hesitated while something swallowed this place whole? I know men like you. You follow orders, do what you’re told, then end up the patsy. Do you want to be the person that’s taken advantage of? Manipulated and cheated? I wouldn’t have thought so. But right now, you’re at a crossroads.’
There’s a tense silence.
‘You feel something coming, don’t you? That’s why the chainsaw stopped. They’ve all left. You’re just standing here, wasting time, and pretending you’re the one in control.’ The guard shifts his feet.
Uncertainty.
‘Let me go. You do that, and you walk out of here still breathing.’
The guard hesitates, but I continue. ‘But wait too long…then neither of us will make it out.’
The guard exhales. He steps forward, his fingers hovering over the restraints – but he hasn’t moved yet. I narrow my eyes. One more push. One final trigger. He tilts his head, then I whisper something quiet, something chilling. ‘Don’t make me ask twice.’
The guard’s breathing falters, it’s uneven and shallow. His fingers curl tighter around the knife tucked into his waistband, trembling, and the tiniest veil of hesitation. Then, without warning, he moves.
His blade slides under the ropes, fibres pulling tightly for a second before they snap, unraveling from my wrists. I should be feeling relief, but I don’t. Not yet.
He hesitates as he cuts the rope binding my ankles like he’s second-guessing himself. I don’t rush him, despite the urgency of the situation. Freedom is close, almost tangible and close enough to taste. As the last restraint slips free, he steps back, his gaze locking on mine. For a suspended breath, neither of us moves, but something passes between us, unspoken and absolute.
The second I’m free feels like my lungs expand for the first time in years. My chest fills so deep, so wild, it feels like my first breath as every muscle coils, charged with something odd, something untamed. I stand, and the guard’s hand is shaking, the knife clutched like a lifeline. He’s still deciding whether or not he just made a huge mistake. I watch him. But I don’t react. Not in the way he thinks I might. I roll my shoulders, and crack my neck. Freedom tastes like fire in my lungs. I nod. I’m a man of my word. He’ll walk out of here still breathing.
His breath catches like he wasn’t expecting me to walk away, like he was thinking the second he freed me, I’d lunge at him like some wild animal.
Not today.
My fingers graze the indentations on my wrist, and without another glance, I leave.
For years, I was the man they called when silence wasn’t enough – when a mess needed cleaning before it bled into scandal. That’s who Mr Lewis needed me to be. That’s who his father molded me into. Calm on the outside, calculating on the inside. A man who solved problems before they became liabilities. But before that? I was something else entirely. A blade unsheathed. I didn’t negotiate – I devoured. My name, Salvador, once held weight in every corner it was spoken. Now, I don’t know what it means anymore. Only that it used to mean everything. Then I let it go – all of it. The fury, the history, the wreckage I used to be. I buried it so deep beneath rules and order that even I started to believe it was gone for good. Control became my weapon. But Charlie…The moment that blade roared to life, something in me shattered. Not loud – more like the split of ice before it breaks. And in that instant, I remembered. I’m not just the man that closes deals in glass towers with a handshake and a stare. I was never just a man in a suit. I was the storm that made others beg for cover. I was the monster they thought they’d tamed. And he’s not buried anymore.
CHAPTER 11
THE DIPLOMAT
