Dance Of Devils

Nine - Nadia

Chapter Nine - Nadia 

 Run, run as fast as you can, run away from the nasty man. Run till your lungs are bleeding and your lips turn blue, run if you know what is good for you. Do not wake from a restful sleep, he will be there at your feet. Run if you want to live, there isn't much time left to give. Wake up wake up, it won't hurt, wake up and crawl out of the dirt. Remember the people you promised to save, remember they're dead and in their graves. Run, run as far as the sun, they'll catch you if you don't and know they've won.

———

Air filled up Nadia's lungs in a sudden rush, every inch of her body suddenly awake and buzzing, jerking at the sensation of being kicked in the stomach. Her arms were tied behind her back, her body twisting against the restraints on her arms and feet. She rolled to her side, gasping as she tried to get the breath back in her body in a steady rhythm. Panic twisted in her gut as her mind fought to catch up with what had happened.

"Bitch is awake," Nadia heard a thick Russian accent say somewhere to her side. Two men, she managed to deduce, by the sound of shuffling feet, weight distribution and breathing patterns.

"This is supposed to be famed Reaper?" The second voice piped up, "What a disappointment."

"I'm embarrassed," the first man joins in, his boot kicking into her stomach again, hard, sending the breath she finally managed to catch rushing back out again. "She practically let us walk her to her death."

Nadia curled up further, protecting her stomach before she began to laugh, rolling back onto her back.

"What you laughing at, pathetic bitch?" One of the men said although Nadia couldn't pinpoint which one, both voices sounded far too similar in the echoless room. God her body ached and not in a good way, in a way that told her she had been thrown around as they dragged her to wait for the fresh hell she knew was coming, trying so desperately to fight the gnawing worry that she felt growing at the edges of her consciousness. She wouldn't call it fear, not yet, there was nothing to fear, nothing that could scare her as much as the thought of losing the fight before it had truly started, but worry? Oh, she had so much to worry about.

"You guys know why they call me the Reaper, don't you?" Nadia questioned, eyes peeling open to take in the two men sneering down at her in disgust and intrigue. They were tall and heavy set, siblings she figured, by the similar features adorning their faces, the similar curve of a brow and bump in their nose. A sanguine smirk twisted into a feral snarl. "Because death keeps handing me back to the living."

With another kick to her side, one of the men dropped to the floor, knees trapping her shoulder to the ground.

"Jesus fuck," Nadia coughed in shock at the sudden weight pressing down on her. A switchblade snapped to life in front of her, its blade pressing firmly to her cheek as the man glared down at her. They had no clue with who they were messing with, that was evident.

"You sure 'bout that, princess?"

Nadia smiled into the biting sting of the weapon, pressing up into the blade. There was no true pressure on the weapon so it went where she went. They didn't understand she was exactly where she wanted to be, playing with her food, watching and waiting for the moment to finish it all for good.

"You want to test it out?" She hummed up at him, rolling the words with a sweet sensuality that drew the man's eyebrows together. Her words threatening but her tone was something else entirely, a siren singing a sailor to his watery grave.

"Aleksei," a command came from behind them, the face of the commander blocked by the idiot with his face just a fraction too far away to head-butt and break his nose, "back away before you lose a hand."