The Descendent Protectors

Chapter Fifteen

"How about we go for a little ride?" The man standing on the other side of the knife proposed, though I doubted I had any choice in the matter.

Inspect the opponent. What does he have to his advantage?

"She looks up for it," the second one sprawled out on my couch commented, and I could almost hear the smirk plastered on his scarred face.

Find a point of weakness, or search for a way to create a distraction.

"I'd allow you to change into a more comfortable outfit, but unfortunately we're running late."

Now decide: fight, or flight?

"Had a long day, eh? You looked really exhausted in that bathtub."

That last sentence dragged me out of my thoughts. My head snapped towards the man seated on the couch, my eyes widening in horror. He had seen me in the bathtub, where I lied unconscious - and bare. A burning bile rose in my throat, and I gulped to try and hold everything in. Though releasing the contents of my stomach on my opponent's shoes didn't seem like such a bad idea, I couldn't spare the time.

Their advantage was definitely their muscle, and they were also armed. In my distressed state, I couldn't bring myself to inspect any point of weakness, nor could I arrange my thoughts to fish for a distraction.

Control your breathing. The only way out is by maintaining a calm mental state.

I breathed in, feeling my lungs expand and a shiver run down my spine, straightening my back up from the slight crouch I had gone into earlier - an automatic defense position as a result of standing on the other side of a pointed weapon.

"Here's the thing, bella," my opponent spoke as he began to lower his armed hand. Through his pronounciation, I recognized his accent as Italian. "My hand here is growing tired, and you seem smart enough to not pull a stunt you'll regret later." He stared back into my eyes, pausing for a second to accentuate the threat behind his words. "So, I'll play the gentleman here-" his sentence was interrupted by a mocking scoff from the corner of the room. He glared at the man seated before turning back to me. Raising his armed hand, he swirled the knife around as if showing it off, then slowly tucked it at the waist of his black jeans. "No knife. No stunts."

Weak point.

I reluctantly nodded my head, pretending to accept his deal.

"C-can I just know one thing?" My voice came out in a whisper, and it sounded deeper, like I was suffering from a sore throat.

"It speaks!" The man on the chair exclaimed, throwing his arms up in mock glory. I flinched back, gasping.

I looked back at the man standing opposite me, seeing him roll his eyes, then nod at me in encouragement.

"What do you want from me?"

Instead of providing an answer, he only groaned in annoyance. "That is not my business," he replied. I stared at him in confusion. How is it not his business? He was here, threatening me with a knife!

"He is simply a man, doing his job," The one on the couch explained for him.

The man smiled, and motioned with his head towards me. "Delivering you."

I could only stare back in horror, his words slowly registering in my mind. They were sent to get me? That means there's someone bigger behind this. My heart began to beat rapidly against my rib-cage, threatening to burst out at any second.

"This is taking forever," The stranger on the couch complained, rolling his neck around in a stretch.

"Can I at least put on some decent clothes?" I knew I was pushing my luck, but I needed a distraction.