On The Run

3. Sewing Up

I listened to the brothers argue over what event actually deserved the title of best story for a while. It seemed there were actually quite a lot of occurrences involving the watchers at this particular compound. It was just my luck to find refuge at the one compound where the host seemed to have a problem with the watchers.

    I felt my eyelids begin to droop as I sat there, the boys' deep voices becoming a relaxing background noise.

    No! There are watchers nearby-

    I was losing the battle to stay awake, though, and I was losing rapidly.

    "That is my private room! Whatever you're looking for, I'm positive it's not in there!"

    My eyes snapped open, the world crashing back in around me. Peeking out from under my lashes, I saw Tracker and Kade still sitting on the bed. They were looking towards the door, their bodies frozen in the same arguing position they were in before. Clearly, they were as surprised as I was when the door banged open to reveal two watchers forcing their way into the room.

    "Look, it's protocol, okay? We have to check every room," one of the watchers said, trying to placate an angry Chantelle.

    "Would you just tell me what you're looking for?" she exclaimed, her hands on her hips as she tried to come into the room only to be stopped by the watcher she was talking to.

    "Who are you?" the other watcher asked, looking at Tracker and Kade. I sat as still as I could, hidden slightly by the door, but still turning my face away from them and trying to blend into the wall. Not an easy feat considering the clothes I was currently wearing.

    "We're Tellers' brothers. I'm Tracker and this is Kade," Tracker said, becoming defensive in response to the watchers aggressiveness.

    "Are you looking for something?" Kade asked, the only one of the siblings trying to remain civil.

    Looking for guidance, the watcher glanced back at his partner who was still holding Chantelle at bay. His focus was elsewhere, though, his gaze burning into the side of my face. The other watcher caught on quickly, his hand sliding up to remove his sidearm from his holster.

    He approached me slowly, nudging the door aside and raising the gun until it was pointed at my head. I held still, keeping my head back against the wall and watching them from the corners of my eyes.

    "And who might you be?" he asked, stopping a foot away.

    I eyed him for a minute, sizing him up. I couldn't fight the small smirk that lifted the corner of my mouth when I answered, "Rapunzel."

    The rage that filled his eyes almost instantly shocked me, and I had to bite my lip from crying out when he reached down with his free hand and dragged me up by my hair. He slammed me into the wall and jammed the gun into my side, making sure I was aware of it's presence.

    "Weston," the other watcher snapped, a warning note in his voice.

    The watcher holding me, Weston, stilled. Very stiffly, he let go of my hair and eased back away from me, allowing me room to breath. He kept the gun at my side, but lessened the pressure immensely.

    "Turn," Weston commanded, making me face his partner. Then, speaking to him, he asked, "What do you think? She look like the girl to you?"

    "What's your name, sweetheart?" goon number one asked, his tone leaving no room for argument, "Your real name?"

    "Vixen," I said, making sure to keep my face neutral.

    "Well, Vixen. Can you tell me what you were doing earlier this evening?"