Rebel Red Carnation {Kiribaku}

I

One moment I'm stuffing packages of food into a pillowcase and the next my hands have been yanked behind my back with my face shoved into the nearest brick wall.

Fuck.

Immediately I know my fucking cheek is going to bruise, and with any more pressure my nose will surely snap. The palm against the back of my head is anything but gentle, and with the way this asshole is yanking on my hands, my shoulders are popping.

"Drop the bag," demands a deep, stereotypically menacing voice.

"Fucking make me," I growl against the wall, squirming against his hold and trying to break free to shove him off me. But of course, the fucker is a lot stronger than me and, in the midst of the struggle, I end up on my knees, pinned to the floor and the wall at the same time.

"I'm only going to give you one more chance, boy. Drop it."

"I'm not a fucking dog, you shitsack," I hiss. Instinct is telling me to fight, to escape and run, but I fucking can't. Fuck!

"I beg to differ."

And then, before I can react, my wrist is being twisted painfully to the left and, with a sharp gasp, the pillowcase slips from my fingers. As the asshat who's got me pinned handcuffs me, he seemingly says to no one, "Wake the queen. There's been a breach in the basement."

I snort a sarcastic laugh, momentarily giving up my struggle. "This is what you call a breach? A homeless guy sneaking in and stealing what you assholes refuse to provide in the first place?"

"You'll hold your tongue if you know what's good for you," he quips.

"Like you would know what's good for me, you ape." With one final surge of motivation, I try once more to yank myself free. One hand slips past his grip but not for long, and he somehow single-handedly manages to cuff my wrists together.

"Last warning."

He yanks me away from the wall and to my feet, then, and even though he's got me cuffed, one hand remains around my wrist while the other wraps around the back of my neck, making an escape or any more opportunities to fight damn near impossible. I'm manhandled into some fancy-ass elevator and then forced down onto my knees once the doors slide shut.

"Jesus christ, don't you know how to treat a person?!" I hiss, gritting my teeth against the strain on my shoulders.

"I know how to treat a thief and an idiot who doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut."

Before I know what's hit me, a piece of fabric that almost instantly dries my tongue is yanked into my mouth and tied around the back of my head. The shitsack gagged me!

The elevator ride feels like it takes a fucking century and while you think that'd give me time to reflect and regret breaking into the goddamn royal palace, I don't. Not a bit. I knew the risks. I know security is tight around this piece-of-shit of a building. But it was either sit and starve, let the 100% curable diseases kill us off one by one, and freeze to death once winter comes, or take the fucking risk. I'm not the type of guy to sit by, so here I am.

The elevator comes to a smooth halt and then I'm manhandled back into a hallway smelling of roses or someshit before being pushed into a small room by my captor. It looks like some sort of cross between a dining room and an interrogation room, but much fancier with glass tables, chairs made out of some sort of fancy wood, and a way-too-bright chandelier hanging from the ceiling. I'm forced, of course, into a chair and handcuffed to it before the guy who's been pushing me around comes around me and practically rips off the gag.