Page 35 of Sink With Me

I should’ve done this on the first day. For as long as I’ve looked, I’ve never found the legitimate reason for the war that started between our factions besides the initial sinking of Bay’s first boat. I can only assume it’s because they think we blew it. That’s never been the case–not like she believes me. I’m always missing something in this scrambled puzzle of blood and bodies.

It’s not like I have my father to guide me, I’ve never had a Bay member to elaborate, granted most of the times I’ve had them talking they were begging for their lives, but now I might have the one thing that could lead me to either my demise or my salvation–I haven’t figured out which one yet.

Her feet scramble underneath her body as I slam my hand against the metal door in hopes of getting her to move from the blank stare she holds at the wall. Her hair is still damp, clinging to her head and t-shirt from her shower.

“Why?” She crosses her arms over her chest, tilting her chin like a child throwing a temper tantrum while she stands, backing into the corner. As if that would protect her from me. Those perfect lips quirk to the side, making my heart race right into my throat, constricting it enough it hurts to swallow. A woman has never had a hold on me like this. It's dangerous. Not for me but for any person she ever comes in contact with again.

“Because I said so.”

I swear if she doesn’t start moving, I’m going to throw her over my shoulder and show her how I’d love to handle her defiance. As predicted, she stands motionless, her feet shifting, knees locking in a place like it’ll show me she’s not moving. Fine, I tried to play nice, but she chose otherwise.

Her nails dig into my back as I lift her with ease, tossing her stomach onto my shoulder, making her let out a breathless yelp. Her body feels too perfect against mine, each small dip and curve molded under my hands.

I deal with enough battles as it is. I’m done fighting this one with myself. Whatever she wants, she can have it when I’m done. We’re products of our parents’ making harboring feelings of lives that are already lost. Whatever is happening is deeper than us.

Date: 5-13-2024

Time: 1515

I think she’s caught on that screaming is useless here. No one is going to help her. Hell, they didn't even help me when I was hunched over with a tight arm wrapped around her legs and my hand steady on my groin from a particularly hard kick. The only response she’ll get is her voice bouncing back off the cold concrete walls. Setting her down in the metal chair, I pull a rope from the chest pocket of my tactical vest.

Rope burns will be easier for me to handle than cuff cuts.

“You’re a sick, twisted asshole for this.”

“I could have you locked in a cellar and tortured if that’s what you prefer. Sam’s not as nice as I am in these situations.” Amusement drips through my crooked grin. I could never have her tortured unless it was by me, preferably bent over a bed or rail or anything while I spank that little ass for being so goddamn her. I’m fucked beyond comprehension. There’s no denying it, no fighting it, no sense in trying to hide it. Something brushes against my leg, making it jerk, and a grunt falls off my lips in response. My skin is too sensitive, like it knows that her touch will burn through the flesh.

Rounding the chair, I turn on the dim lamp in the middle of the metal table, pushing it in her direction, and making her squint against the beam. God, she’s a fucking sight. Writhing and twisting in her seat, trying to break free, with a scowl. I may be sick for living out my interrogation room fantasy, but it’s a win-win. Get the information I need and enjoy the sight of her at my mercy.

“I’m giving you a chance, little shark.” My voice drops as I crouch between her legs.

She smells so good, it’s addicting. I guess giving into her change of toiletries demand came in handy. Placing my hands on her knees, I trace small circles against the flesh. I can’t focus on anything other than small goosebumps prickling under the pads of my fingers. It’s like her body was made to respond to mine.

“How sweet. Remind me to put that on your headstone.” She purrs, kicking her leg out forcing me to grip her knee so she doesn't make contact with my shin.

“What do you think they put on your headstone?” I retaliate. Her head tilts to the side as I stand, leaning back against the bolted table. Something flashes over her eyes, lips pressed into a thin line as she shifts her shoulders. My patience is wearing thin. The longer she plays her childish game, the less time I’ll have to end whatever the fuck has started.

"You were deemed KIA; in case you didn’t know. They didn’t even come looking for you.” I must’ve hit the right spot judging by her eyes shooting daggers at me once more. I can see it all, confusion and hurt, but it quickly fades into a cocky smirk. She can’t fool me; I can physically feel her panic radiating through her clothes.

“You’re lying.”

“See for yourself.”

I pull the file that I had Sam print from my waistband, tossing it to the floor in front of her

She looks down at the envelope with no picture stapled to it, no name or any aspects that would’ve categorized her as a loved human, not just another soldier on a roster. At one point during the minutes that stretch, I almost pull her close. Her eyes have softened and a lone tear slips. Before she can wipe it on her shoulder, I drag my thumb across the salty streak and bring it to my lips. If she's ever going to cry it’ll be for me. Each tear, smile, and scowl will be mine. It’s best if she starts accepting that fact.

“I need a little help, some insight. Anything.” I don’t even recognize my voice with how low it goes as I pull my finger from my mouth. Her brows pinch together. I’d seen the look before as she sat in her bed numerous times at night as if she was running through scenarios or the past. Her head snaps up, forcing me to tilt mine down to catch the heat in her stare. She’s gorgeous when she’s defiant, but I bet she’ll look even better when she submits.

“Is that all you want? For me to become a traitor just so you can kill me instead of my team doing it?”

My hands move on their own accord, wrapping around the back of her chair until my face is mere inches from hers, I kick her feet apart and stand between her legs. When will she notice the very obvious fact that I can’t kill her? I can’t even stand the thought. She is going to live for me and if anyone tries to take that away then their blood will paint my hands.

“Someone is trying to set me up. That same person wanted you dead. Work with me and maybe I’ll set you free.”

I know it's a lie. I’ll never let her go. She doesn’t believe me either, letting out a harsh scoff with a roll of her eyes like my words are the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard. They might be. I want it to be her decision to give up everything she’s ever fought for, to accept that no matter how far she runs or how hard she fights she’s always going to wind up exactly where she is now. It’s a sick mind game, I know.

“You’re not going to set me free.”

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