Page 22 of The Torturer's Target

The sudden blare of an alarm was deafening, forcing her to cover her ears. In an instant, she was on the ground, struggling to stay awake.

As consciousness began to slip away from her, she heard footsteps approach her. “We got her! We got her!” An unfamiliar male voice shouted with glee.

“It’s definitely her! We caught her,” said another voice.

She tried to focus, but her mind was slipping away, elusive like sand through her fingers. The sounds surrounding her became muffled and distorted, as if underwater. Her thoughts, once sharp and clear, now felt like a jumbled, incoherent mess.

What happened?

She struggled to get up. To get away.

She raised her head up when she heard footsteps approaching her. A tall shadowy figure crouched over her, and she recognized that peculiar masculine build.

Maximilian Kingston.

“It took a while, but now I have you, Tesiera The Torturer,” he said.

She succumbed to the irresistible force pulling her under. Her eyes fluttered closed, and her body went limp. She was suspended in a state between consciousness and unconsciousness. I should have known, she thought. The first time I ignore my instincts—which are never wrong—is the day I get caught by my enemy.

The world faded to black, as she slipped into the deep, dreamless sleep.

CHAPTER 10. FAÇADE: THE REAL MONSTER.

“I think she’s awake.”

Tesiera heard a distant voice say as she floated back to consciousness.

Gradually, she became more aware of her surroundings and her vision started to clear. Tesiera tried to move, but she was secured upright with something that dug into her skin.

She jolted awake and found herself chained to a chair in the middle of an unfamiliar room. The realization hit her as the fog cleared: she had failed her mission. Again.

“Oh, thank fuck,” said another voice. Footsteps approached her, but before she could look up, a strong fist connected with her jaw.

Tesiera spat out a mixture of blood and saliva, then raised her head to see the two hefty men standing before her. From her extensive surveillance, she knew them well: the one on the left, with long black hair pulled back and a beard, was Clinton; and the one on the right—the one who had struck her—sporting a high-and-tight blond haircut and brown eyes burning with anger, was Bose.

The man looked like he would enjoy nothing more than to torture her with her own torture devices.

Another unexpected punch broke her nose. Tesiera grunted; the blow hurt like hell, but she was no stranger to pain. In her life, pain was a familiar presence, and she let out only a grunt. Blood gushed from her nose.

“That’s enough, Bose,” Clinton said. Bose stopped mid-swing. After a moment of hesitation, he dropped his hand, glaring at Tesiera. If looks could kill, she’d be dead already.

“I could kill her—” He lunged at Tesiera, his hands about to wrap around her neck. Clinton restrained him before he could get to her.

“Remember, the boss said we shouldn’t touch her. He said to tell him when she wakes up,” Clinton said in a soothing voice, releasing him. Bose’s chest heaved with angry breaths, while Tesiera watched them.

“Fine,” Bose conceded and straightened his shirt. He and Clinton left Tesiera’s side and began walking to the door, but then Bose paused and turned around to face her.

“Each punch was for each attempt you made to kill Max. If not for him, I would’ve fucking killed you,” Bose seethed.

Tesiera didn’t respond to his little speech.

Bose and Clinton exited the room, leaving Tesiera alone with the million-and-one thoughts that filled her mind. She had never been captured before. Ever.

She’d ventured into a lot of dangerous places in search of her targets, most of whom were the most dangerous people in the world. Paranoid underworld men who had surrounded themselves with the best security money could buy. Yet, she had done her job and done it well.

However, in the space of two weeks, she had not only failed her mission twice, but she had also been captured—not by the underworld lords, but by a neurosurgeon and business tycoon. Tesiera let out a derisive laugh, even though her body ached from the action.

She had no one to blame but herself. In a world like hers, doing a job like this, one has to stay incredibly alert. Trust their instincts, be aware of their fucking surroundings on the job. And be one hundred percent present every moment of every mission. She’d allowed revenge to blind her so much that she failed all those rules, ignored all the warning signs, and worse, underestimated her enemy.

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