The Escaped Con's Hostage | ONC 2024

- SIX -

Wandering over to it, I stare up, hoping to learn more about the man taking us to God-only-knows-where.

The newscasters repeat the same information as earlier, but this time I catch his age: twenty-three. He's so young for an alleged crime boss; I wonder how he rose to rank so quickly in Mayhem Six. They say he's been in and out of jail since he was thirteen-years-old but his latest conviction was going to put him away for the rest of his life. Because he murdered a computer programmer named Lauren Fields.

My stomach flutters but not in a good way.

The newscaster goes on to label him highly dangerous and that authorities should be called immediately if we come into contact with him.

Yeah, if only.

One of the working girls behind the counter sighs dreamily. "That man is fine as fuck."

The burger flipping guy next to her nods emphatically. "Girl, I'd aid and abet him in a heartbeat."

I tsk under my breath, collecting our order. They don't realize how cold and terrifying he can be. Maybe then they'd think with their brains and not with their loins.

I spot Brandon at a nearby table, purposefully keeping his head low while simultaneously keeping an eye on Nova on the playground. His sunglasses are off again, folded at the crook of his v-neck mechanic uniform. The absolute confidence he must have.

"Here you go," I say, handing him his meal.

"Thanks."

I fall down quietly and eat my breakfast without relish. Brandon seems to do so too.

After a moment, he says, "Listen, Nat. Don't fuck with me. That's all I ask. You get me to where I want to be, I'll treat you and Nova right. But you pull shit like that runaway stunt again, and—well, you'll meet the other side of me. A side you don't want to meet. Understand?"

His warning makes me sick with fear, especially after learning he killed that programmer lady. This is definitely one of those instances where I should trust in his words, not his actions. He's been nothing but a dream to Nova, even going as far as to kiss my head gently. But his deep-throated threats when no one is listening have all been laced with the deadliest venom.

Sometimes words speak louder than actions, Natty.

I put my sandwich down and take a sip of my orange juice, gathering up courage to reply.

It took me two freaking years to escape Ken. Two! I refuse to be a silent, petrified victim, even in this horrible, life-threatening situation. If he's going to kill me, he can do so with my protests in his ear.

"Please give me some kind of idea of where you're asking me to take you," I plead. "Not knowing is eating me up and has me thinking of all kinds of things."

Brandon angles his head, as if he never considered that. "Like what?"

"I don't know..." I lean in, looking both ways before whispering, "You're a kingpin for crying out loud! For all I know, you plan on selling Nova and me to the highest bidder."

Brandon gives me a look of disgust. "That's what you really think? That I'd just sell you and your kid sister off to some fuckin' pimp?"

I shrug, nodding.

He shakes his head. "Okay, fair. You don't know me, but if it makes you feel better, I'd never do that to you or your sister. Never."

The way he says this has me convinced he's telling the truth. There's a conviction there.