Page 7 of A Past Too Broken

He smirks, his eyes lighting up. “Oh? Not into games, are you? Does taunting me not count as a game?”

Wiggling in the ropes tying me to the chair, I try to determine how loose they are.

Zay watches me struggle for a moment before pulling the knife away from my face. “I won’t kill you if you tell me why you stole those marks.”

My heart races and I fight against my restraints again. “You don’t need to know that. So either kill me or let me go. I promise I’ll make your death easy and quick.”

Zay studies me, questions burning in his eyes, but his expression doesn’t tell me one way or the other which way he’ll go. “It’s almost kind of pathetic to do it like this,” he muses. “After all the work you did to not get caught. I didn’t even know who you were until Cash narrowed it down for me. That you’realmostas good as Molly is at staying under the radar makes me wonder why you’re not more established.”

I give him a feral grin. “I’d rather jump into a volcano than have anyassociates, or whatever you call each other.”

He tilts his head. “It’s not for money. My sources say you never contacted the contract holders for the money.”

This whole conversation is giving me a headache on top of the already existing one, and I’m not stupid enough to admit that that never occurred to me. I wouldn’t even know how to go about something like that. I can navigate the dark web enough to pick up jobs when I need the cash, but I’m not entrenched enough to figure out how to steal more than the kill from someone.

It’s not about the money, not for me. But I can’t tell Zay that. I refuse to give him leverage over me.

“If your plan is to bore me to death, you’ll be happy to know you’re succeeding.”

“Are you so quick to die, Min?”

“Anything is better than sitting here listening to your nonsense.”

“Tell me what I want to know, and I’ll give you what you want.”

Eyeing him, I consider my words, unwilling to give up so easily, but wanting to end whatever this is. “I kill those who need to die. You can’t tell me you’re ignorant about the crimes your marks commit.”

He studies me, his gaze unnerving, but I refuse to squirm under his scrutiny. “I know the guy the other night was a known and convicted child molester. Even after his prison time and all the warnings he got, he was still doing the same old shit.

“It’s why I was there. The client was willing to pay a pretty penny to end his life.” He leans in, gaze steadily on mine as he says in a low voice, “I don’t do this for fun, Min. I’m not interested in justice, or avenging the victims like so many of the clients who hire me are. It’s a job, one I happen to be very, very good at. That you’re so willing to put yourself at risk to get rid of the scum on earth is admirable, if foolish. I’m not like you, though.” He leans in even more, his lips a hair’s breadth away from my own. “Fuck with my job again, and you’ll never get the chance to regret it.”

I let out a gasp as he brushes his mouth ever so softly over mine, my aching, touch-starved body desperately begging for more.

Zay smiles, his teeth catching on my bottom lip, and then pain explodes through my head, making me dizzy and stealing the sight of his golden eyes as he pulls back.

* * *

I wakewith a splitting skull on the floor of the room Zay’s been holding me in. I don’t know how much time has passed, but as I slowly glance around the room, I discover I’m alone.

Sitting up, I swallow back the nausea as movement makes my brain throb. When I’m sure I can stand without throwing up, I do so, almost falling over but managing to keep myself upright.

The room is thankfully still dim, and I take my time looking around. There’s not much here: the chair I was restrained to sits in the middle of the room, there’s a table against the wall behind the chair, along with a cot. Besides a cupboard with a few blankets and a bare bones first aid kit, there’s nothing else.

It’s clearly someplace to lie low for a few hours before moving to a safehouse, and now even that purpose has probably been blacklisted. There’s no way Zay or any of his associates would risk coming here now that I’m aware of it.

On the table, there’s a bottle of water and a sachet of pills, plus a note. It takes a moment for my eyes to focus enough on Zay’s messy scrawl to understand the words.

Better luck next time, Min… Until then, consider this your one free pass - Z

Crumpling the note, I stare at the pills and the water, trying to decide if I trust him not to tamper with them or not. The stabbing pain in my head decides for me. Fuck it, dying has to be better than trying to think through this pain.

Throwing back the pills, I take a long, much-needed drink of water and lay down on the cot. The world spins as I try to get comfortable, but I close my eyes and clutch Zay’s crumpled note in my hand as I wait for either the headache to lessen, or for death to take me.

Three Months After Kidnapping

The early spring air is damp from recent rain.

Looking up at the sky, I study the darkening clouds overhead. I can only hope the weather gods are on my side and I don’t have to worry about shooting in the rain.

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