Temptress

36 - Cleo | Cold-Blooded

I was confused, in pain, and very fucking pissed off.

My body was begging me to stop forcing my arms because of my dislocated shoulder, which needed to be put back in place, but I could feel Harry trying to loosen the rope and since we were tied up together, I just had to help.

Whoever tied us up made the right choice of rope but the wrong choice of the knot. When trying two people like this, you have to still focus on the wrists separately, and they forgot about that detail.

I could feel Harry's blood dripping down his hands because of the strength he was using to try to get loose, and the skin around my wrists was raw and burning because of the friction, but the pain was also a motivation.

The disgusting piece of shit who was carrying my knife was going to fucking pay for even daring to fucking touch me... they had no idea I had another knife safely tucked on the garter around my thigh, but since I was wearing pants it was a bit hard to reach it unless I could free my hands and my ankles so I could get it.

I was never fully unarmed, but they had taken the knife I had tucked on my combat boots, which meant they tried to be smart.

Not smart enough.

I had never been kidnapped before, especially after a fucking car crash. Everything just happened so fast that I was glad Harry was alive and apparently not very hurt. He was shot though, and I knew he was bleeding a lot.

The smell of blood around this humid room was suffocating, and the large and deep cut on my face was still bleeding and soaking my tank top. I needed to get out of here.

They weren't going to win so easily... they wanted Harry and me together so they could kill us, but why kidnap us instead of just shooting us when we were vulnerable after the car crash?

Speaking of vulnerable, the moment I heard Harry crying I remembered he was terrified of the dark, and we were alone in this room with no source of light at all. I tried to calm him the same way I'd calm myself after a panic attack, whenever I tried to hold my dad's gun I still kept in my closet.

It was a type of reverse therapy, maybe? I just wanted to see if I would suddenly be healed so I'd try to hold it, and then I'd end up being unable to breathe and have the worst panic attacks ever. I didn't cry, but I knew how painful it was to try to get air into your lungs only to have them burning in response. It felt like someone was sitting on your chest, trying to crush you alive.

I understood fear way too much, it controlled every single thing about us if we let it. And we often did. But now we weren't in the dark, but my back was turned to the door so I couldn't see much now that the disgusting man had walked back around to face Harry.

He mentioned the imprints on my neck... our families... why?

Fuck, I should've put on a turtleneck.

I was so confused and my headache wasn't helping, whoever this boss was, I just wanted to know why give us the list and try to kill us... what was the fucking reason?

The footsteps coming towards the room caught my attention and I kept using my fingers to pick at the rope, just knowing my nails were already bleeding because of the effort. Everything hurt anyway, it wouldn't make a difference.

The room fell quiet the moment someone walked into the room, well, I could tell it was more than one person. I hated not being able to see, this was fucking up my anxiety.