It's a Cruel World, Sir (Student/Teacher)

20 | Rescue

Now, it's just a skeleton of what it used to be: gravel dust covers everything, even a thin layer of it is on the bottom of the stone walls, and huge bulldozers litter the lot along with random pieces of broken stone and concrete.

Spray Tan jerks open my door, pulling me from the window, and grabs my arm. "Time to get out, bitch."

"Haven't heard that one before," I grumble, doing as he says.

"Did you say something?" he asks, eyeing me.

"Nope," I say innocently, blinking up at him.

He clicks his tongue but doesn't say anything, settling for practically dragging me into the building.

The inside looks a lot like the outside. Only the shell of it is there: basic support beams, square pillars lining the place while they work on making the walls more structurally sound, and the basic gray concrete laid on the floor.

What strikes me is that there's nothing to suggest they've been staying here, not even a blanket or sleeping bag, which means they probably just brought me here so we don't figure out where their real hideout is: a good sign; means they're planning on letting us get away from this alive.

"Why, if it isn't little Vixen Tyler," someone says, snickering.

Leaning against one of the pillars is the man of the hour: Preston, leader of the Black Kings. True to the rumors, his skin is stark white, and though his head is shaved clean of any hair, I can tell by his pale blond eyebrows: albinism. He's wearing a pair of sunglasses—to protect his eyes from the light, I guess—and so many layers of clothes, it's making me hot just looking at him.

"Bring her over here," he says, waving the goons over to the pillar he's leaning on.

Spray Tan pushes me towards him, nodding in his direction, and I roll my eyes. "I heard him, dumbass, but thanks for the clarification."

He immediately kicks the back of my knee, making me tumble to the ground in an angry heap.  By the warmth from the essentia, I figure he almost broke my leg, but I try to ignore the fact that it's not nearly as powerful as it was in the shower earlier, especially since there's still a dull ache when it's gone.

"Now, now. Don't be so rough on our guest," Preston scolds lightly.

"Sorry, sir," Spray Tan says, yanking me back to my feet.

I grumble under my breath, but refrain from saying anything as they literally hang the zip tie around my wrist on a big hook above my head. It's just high enough that I can reach it without standing on my tiptoes, but barely.

Preston is staring at me a little too intensely, finger to his lips in concentration. "You know, it's a shame such a cute girl has such a bad mouth," he tsks mockingly, stepping to me. "You should smile more."

I don't say anything, watching him. The moment he lets his guard down...

He steps closer, tilting his head. "Hard to believe you're only nineteen. I'm not really into teenagers, but you're kind of doing it for me. Especially your hair..."

He reaches towards me, and I bite his finger out of pure reflex, earning a grunt from him. Before he can get his finger out, Ronnie drills the back of my head into the beam with his hand.

"You might wanna start playing nice, little Vixen, or I'll hafta return you to your friends in pieces."

I almost laugh at him, tell him to try it since Chase has probably made me invincible, but like when Spray Tan punched me, I can feel an ache where Ronnie rammed me into the beam, so I decide to keep my mouth shut.