BEWITCHED & BOTHERED

31 ✰ Unknown, October 16th

 I jolted awake at the sharp clanging of metal against metal.

The first thing I saw was the wretched man from before, his prominent roman nose hovering a mere inch from my face.

"Rise and shine, princess." His breath caressed the side of my cheek, making me flinch.

I took shallow breaths to regain my bearings again. My entire body felt sore, and I could still feel the remnants of whatever drugs they used (possibly chloroform) coursing through my veins. When I didn't respond, his lips parted into a smirk.

"What freak wears purple contacts in one eye?"

I widened my eyes in alarm. My brown contact lens had fallen off, no doubt during the scuffle. But instead of replying, I gave into my instincts and did something probably unwise to do to one's kidnapper.

I spat on his face. 

"Ooooh!" An echo of masculine voices rang out through the air as the man balked away in disgust, wiping his face with the sleeve of his jacket. 

I took the opportunity to assess the situation I was in. My hands and legs were bound to the chair I was sitting on, by what I could only guess were cable ties. The whole place was some sort of abandoned warehouse, with exposed brick and rusted metal beams over the ceiling. There were two other men, one on either side of my kidnapper, wearing identical black outfits and (to my dismay) leather gloves too.

This is a 'no fingerprints' type of job.

"Bitch! Don't you know who I am?" The man snapped at me and I immediately braced for impact.

A shotgun-like crack resounded throughout the warehouse as he struck me clean across the cheek. It was the kind of hit that could short-circuit a person's brain, so my vision blacked out for one dizzying second. 

I shook my head in an attempt to clear the stars from my eyes, the skin of my cheek turning radioactive hot from the pain. A strong metallic taste filled my mouth and I spat onto the floor beside me. Blood.

"Let me guess, you're the Beyoncé of this trio?" I sneered before I could stop myself.

"Well, well. She's a comedian," the bald one on my left said with a telltale Italian accent. He was leaning up against a metal beam, rhythmically hitting something in his hand against the hard surface. When I saw it was a gun, my confidence fell and my throat closed up.

"Shut it, Vito!" My kidnapper barked, and I knew he was the one in charge amongst the three by the way Bald Vito physically withered at the reprimand. The clanging stopped, at least, but somehow I still heard it in my brain. Or maybe that was the sound of my erratic heartbeat.

The third man approached me, nearly gagging me with his overpowering cologne of yellow mustard and cigarettes. He leaned forward with a Cheshire Cat grin, and that's when I noticed a gold tooth sticking out amongst his set of cigarette-stained teeth.

"Look here, lady," Gold Tooth taunted, his breath smelling just as bad as I feared. "We don't have the time or the patience to deal with your smart mouth. Now call him and tell him to meet us here."

"Call who?" I played coy.

I knew these assholes were after Magnus, but for what reason, I hadn't the slightest clue.

"Your husband, Mrs. Allan," the leader spat the words out like they were poison.

The laughter that bubbled up my throat came out of me with the speed of a barrelling freight truck. These idiots got it completely wrong and they didn't even know it. As I laughed, the three of them blinked at me like I was out of my mind—a reasonable assumption.