Page 5 of Grit & Glamour

Chapter Four

“She’s coming to, I think. Put your mask back on,” a firm, authoritative voice commands. I stir at his words, feeling dizzy as blood rushes to my head. My eyes open, and I blink as I slowly take in my surroundings in a daze. My head throbs, but I push through the grogginess and begin to try to make sense of what’s happening. I’m in a small room, with just four metal chairs for furniture, one of which I’m tied too. No windows, one door, and the blandest shade of oatmeal paint on the walls. Oh, and two masked, extremely terrifying-looking men.

Through the ski masks, all I can see are their eyes. The taller of the two has green eyes, and the shorter one kneeling closer to me has brown. The shade is one not dissimilar to mine and my brother’s, though mine are tinged with a little green near the centres. There’s a coldness in both of their gazes that has me sitting upright and wishing more than anything that I could get free.

“Scarlett Carrington?” the taller one asks, confirming him as the authoritative speaker from before.

“Who’s asking?” I retaliate, trying to wrap my head around what the hell is going on. As I speak I feel a sting in my left cheek under my eye and flinch. Fuck that hurt.

“Me. I’m asking. And you? You’re going to tell me everything I want to know, or this is going to become a much more unpleasant experience for us both,” he threatens in a low tone.

I weigh up my options before deciding to answer, “I’m Scarlett.”

“Great. Now tell me, why did you set us up?” he demands, not giving me a second.

“I’m sorry, what?” I sputter, my brain spinning, trying to keep up. The throb in my head still hasn’t subsided, and I can’t help but think it’s not helping my cognitive abilities.

“Why did you set us up? Did someone pay you? Who contacted you?” he rapid fires the questions at me, pushing me for a response.

“I didn’t set you up, nobody paid me. Who are you?” I question, looking between the two masked men in confusion. “What the hell is going on here?” I ask again.

“We’re the ones asking questions, sweetheart, so relax your lips unless they’re answering me.” He crosses the room as he speaks, stopping in front of where I’m trapped. He towers over me as he looks down into my eyes. “Why did you set us up?”

“I didn’t, damnit!” I repeat, my voice raising from frustration.

“You hired a team to take out Alyana Carrington, correct?” he questions, and something clicks in my brain.

“Holy fuck, you’re the assassins!” I blurt out. The one kneeling chuckles, silencing only when the taller man throws a glare his way.

“Now you remember,” he drawls in a sarcastic tone. “Since your brain is clearly functioning again, please tell me who the fuck paid you to set us up?”

“Nobody!” I shout quickly, alarm rushing through me. Everything in my body is demanding I leap up and run, but the ties that bind me to this chair won’t allow it. “I swear, nobody paid me, or asked me to do anything. I ordered the hit on her of my own accord, and I have no idea what went wrong. Maybe you could tell me, actually. Seeing as I’m the customer here, and you’re the one that didn’t deliver,” I add, my confidence beginning to return as my head clears.

“We haven’t delivered? We. Haven’t. Delivered? Did she really just fucking say that to me?” the taller man asks his associate, his voice riddled with disbelief.

“She’s must be kidding you. I mean, she’s the one that selected the hit as a civilian target. That woman is dark and dirty in ways that should never see the light of day, it’s obvious she was up a few tiers on the price scale,” the other man responds. His voice is softer, a little smoother compared to the edge in the taller man’s voice. He also has a very light accent, not that I can place it. Whatever accent it is, it’s clear he’s trying to hide it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. She’s just my mother,” I tell them honestly. Sure, my mother is evil, but she isn’t a crime lord or anything. Our family’s money comes from a legitimate business and property empire. A successful empire that she runs all by herself, even with the two bratty children she was burdened with, as she likes to constantly remind me.

“Why would a pretty, rich girl like you want to kill her mommy? Did she not buy you the Porsche you wanted for your birthday?” he taunts in a derisive tone.

“It’s none of your business why I want her dead, all you had to do was do your job and just get it done. Now she’s going to kill me instead!” I snap back, fury swirling in my gut.

The door bursts open, and my eyes immediately look towards it for the entrant, praying for a chance at escape. A man with brown eyes and a lightly-tanned face enters the room. He’s quickly forgotten as my gaze latches onto what is in his arms—rather who is in his arms.

“Caleb!” I shout, jerking and trying desperately to break free from the confines of the chair. It rattles loudly as I try to jump up from the ground with the chair to get to him. He wriggles in the man’s hold, but his hands are tied and there’s a blindfold over his face. Seeing him put in such a stressful situation sends sparks of panic through me. “Caleb!” I yell again, trying even harder to break free. My wrists hurt like hell from where I’ve been tugging on them in an attempt to get out of the rope’s grasp.

“Put your fucking mask on,” the taller man growls at the guy walking in, ignoring my pleas. I look back in the direction of the entrant, watching as he pulls a ski-mask on over his head in a rush. “You! Look at me,” the taller man demands loudly, and I comply without thinking. The commanding tone lures my panicked mind into following. His attention however has already diverted back to the newcomer. “Are you a fucking amateur?”

“Obviously not. I found this one, didn’t I?” he argues, releasing my brother from his grip as he does to make his point.

“It’s okay, Caleb. Don’t panic!” I call over to him, cringing as he stumbles to get his footing. The man grabs hold of his shoulder, steadying Caleb on his feet.

“Oh, you captured a child? Excuse me while I go find your fucking participation trophy,” the taller man snaps.

“Fucking cool it, man. He made a mistake,” the man on his knees says, before gesturing to me, “She probably didn’t see anything anyway.”

I nod my head in agreement. Nothing but a three-second glimpse of his face before noticing my brother. “I didn’t see his face,” I lie. “All I saw was my brother, honestly.”

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