Page 120 of Deception

Nothing happened for a few hours.

But they eventually came to taunt me. Throw ice cold water on me.

The one with my claw marks decided that they might get some answers out of me, some dirt that they could use to gain favor with their boss. So they roughed me up a bit, superficially, but it went on for a long time.

To keep my sanity, through the cold and harassment, I dove deep into that dark place.

I became like my lover.

Razor sharp focus drives me. Helps me ignore the pain in my wrists, rubbed raw. It sees me through the hours of waiting, worrying that they’ll come back. That one of them will go too far and cause enough damage to put my baby at risk.

The thought makes me bare my teeth in the dark. I will rip out their throats if they try.

Some commotion above drew most of them away moments ago. I heard shouting, arguing and guns cocking. Maybe Domenico has finally come to get me.

It must be late into the evening, although my internal clock is completely disoriented.

The silence in the hall is broken by a grumbling voice, the wretch who is seemingly in charge now. He’s muttering something, coming down the hall.

“Gonna get mine before they take her, damn right. I earned it.”

The door opens.

I stay slumped forward, my hair frazzled, hanging down over my face.

He shuffles in, licking his lips, the disgusting fucker. Leaning down, he nudges a strand of hair aside, checking to see if I’m awake.

“You really are a looker. Too bad you’re a disgusting mess right now.” He stands straighter, reaching for his belt. “But I’ve had worse.”

I wait for him to unbuckle it, reaching down to drag his hand up the outside of my thigh, hesitantly pushing up the hem of my ruined nightgown. My legs are parted, still tied to the legs of the chair and he’s completely engrossed in trying to get a peek.

That’s when I make my move.

I spray the mouthful of spit and blood I’ve been saving from biting my lip into his eyes. He shouts a protest, raising a hand to wipe away the mess. He’s blinded, but he’s enraged.

Staggering back, I unloop my foot, catching it between his legs, sending him tumbling. He rolls over, catching himself, pushing up to stand. “Damn?—”

I’m out of my restraints in a second, diving for him, looping the rope in my hands around his neck and cranking back as hard as I can. I’m exhausted, dehydrated, hungry. Weak.

But I will not die here. I will not let them keep me.

He’s so much bigger than me, but I got the drop on him. I feel his windpipe pop with a sickening, yet satisfying squelch and he goes limp, dead weight that I can’t hold up.

“There. You got yours!” I spit on him, stumbling over him, snagging his pistol.

Adrenaline courses through my veins, propelling me out into the hall, the gun raised in my cracked, bleeding hands.

No alarm is raised. Only distant noise reaches me.

The vertigo hits me suddenly, lightheadedness sending me slumping into the wall, gasping. I take a second, close my eyes.

Steady.

Making my way down the corridor, I hone my focus on silent steps, keeping my gun ready. If I can find a back way out, maybe I can send a signal.

“Should’ve searched the guy for a cell phone,” I mutter, my voice a croak. It’s too far to go back now, though. My energy is fading already and my sole focus is getting out.

At the end of the hall the walls open up to a sort of boiler room, bathed in blessed heat. A table is tipped over, cards and chips scattered on the floor. They all left in a hurry.

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