They Who Slaughtered Hope 🌈| 1-2 Updates a Month

Chapter 08

"So... I heard that you were the one who thwarted Ren... how did you do it? If you tell me, I'll reward you."

She leaned in for another touch, and Lennox quivered, wishing he could shrink back into the rugged wall further. Still, he scrambled to avoid her, his mouth clamped shut. Trixcia's dagger-sharp acrylics tapped against his skin, roaming underneath his dress shirt. Lennox inhaled a shallow breath, bracing himself for the worst as a door slammed open. His head shot up, pleading for just a glimpse of his saviour.

"Trix, Mitsan told you to interrogate him, not ram your hand up his shirt. Now get off him."

Lennox grimaced when he discovered his so-called saviour was none other than his captor, Ren.

"Well, this is just the way that I do it. Did you make your move on him already? Because nothing I tried is working," Trixcia huffed.

Ren snorted, and she withdrew to a corner of the room, her eyes gleaming with annoyance.

The florist breathed a sigh of relief. It was over. Now he just needed to get out of there in one piece. Lennox promised himself that he'd deal with one problem at a time. He studied Ren, and the sniper merely glared back.

The planes of Ren's face were all cold, hard professionalism as he took Lennox's bound wrists down from the ledge. In his defence, Lennox hadn't exactly made it easy for him, if the past—he paused. He didn't know what day it was, or what time it was. All he knew for certain was that the house would be in shambles when—or if—he ever got back.

The truth hit him like a brick. What if he didn't make it back? What if all the money he saved up rotted away in the bank, never used for its true purpose? Footsteps approached him, and Lennox lifted his head to find Ren hovering over him. "Do you need something, Crimson?" the florist bit back, wincing only moments after the words left his lips. If there was a wrong move to make, he had done it.

"You seemed upset, that's all, Blueblood. Anyway, my leader wants to see you now if you've... recovered."

Lennox wondered if that leader was the same Mitsan that Ren mentioned before.

"Hurry up, or I'll let Trix loose again. I'm sure she would be overjoyed at your reunion."

At that, Lennox scrambled to his feet, shuffling after Ren until the last cord went taut. The sniper hadn't unplugged it.

"Now I know he's lost the plot," he confirmed.

"What was that, hostage? Have you forgotten your life is in my hands?" Despite his harsh words, Ren pulled the cord from its socket and untied Lennox's hands.

The pair entered into a hallway, much different from the concrete of the previous room. A red carpet blanketed the centre of the floor, contrasting with the gold sconces on the onyx walls. It was the same for the other corridors. He found himself frustrated by the lack of landmarks there. It was as if he was walking in circles; everything appeared identical to him.

Ren appeared to have the ability to read minds that day and jumped in with his own little quip. "Only Syndicate members who walk these halls daily can notice the small imperfections that mark one's location in this compound. Per say, a hole in the wall, or a frayed section of the rug."

He looked much more chipper than before. Either he had moved on from the other night or he was awfully confident that Lennox's family would be holding his funeral within the week. 

The florist was pulled out of his zombie-like trance by the sight of the door he was meant to enter. It was no ordinary door, that was for sure. Copious amounts of stone were painstakingly carved to form the head of a Komainu, better known as the lion-dog of Japanese mythology. Regardless, his gawking skidded to a halt as Ren shoved him inside the room.