Carlton ✔

46| The Scathed Wits

A sharp pain slithered down my body. I grasped that some men were un-tying my arms and lowering them down. The ropes around my waist were tugged open. They still treated me equally rashly as one man gripped the back of my neck and made me sit on my knees.

"Now, you listen to me asshole," he glowered as he held my head down, "For every attempt you make of escaping, we'll kill one of your comrades, so you better cork it!"

He pulled me up into a standing position and yelled close to my ear, "Now, move!"

The door in front of me opened and almost instantly, a gust of hot air hit our faces. Mechanical sounds, like dilapidated engines, was humming in the background. The men started to lead me down some metallic stairs that rattled as we descended.

When we got down, the faces of the over-worked labourers turned towards us, and then got back to work as if dragging a bloody, kidnapped man was a normal thing around here.

What in the world was going on here? Was this a factory?

I now found myself in a neat and convenient, air-conditioned room with a bed, a bathroom and medical supplies. The refreshing, unpolluted air in there was comforting. A neat set of T-shirt and pants was placed on the comfy bed.

They shoved me inside rather harshly. "Don't get any silly ideas." The man gripped the door knob, smirking at me. "Look presentable. You have four hours." He shut the door loudly, leaving me utterly confused to join the dots.

So Augustus was doing his dirty business in this torture chamber disguised as a factory of sorts?

But it didn't matter right now anyway. What mattered was that I was on the brink of collapsing, pertaining to how much blood I had lost and the condition my arm was in. And I had a fucking fight in four hours that would dictate my, and everyone else's fates.

'I want you to hold Augustus in the fight as long as possible. Can you do that for me?'

My memories from last night were hazed, but I perceived the message loud and clear.

Sitting on the edge of my bed, I examined my wounds meticulously. My bullet wound seemed torn to shreds, courtesy of Augustus. If he had done any more damage, I would've certainly lost my whole arm.

I stepped into the shower, squeezing my eyes shut everytime the water stung my injuries. Thick, blood-red water flowed past my feet and I could only stare at it with horror. With the condition that I was in, how was I even going to survive a few punches?

I wish Phil was here.

But he was gone. Augustus took him from me. He died a horrible death, in the parking lot of a bar, shot down mercilessly. A person like him deserved so much better. After all this was over, I had planned to give him a raise worth a thousand bucks, just to see the joy on his face. He died trying to save me.

My tears were washed away with water, but the pounding in my head and the ache in my throat remained.

Moreover, even though I couldn't remember clearly, Augustus had hinted that he had forced himself on Breanna sometime in the past. And she never told me about this. It was as if the last piece of puzzle slotting in place and everything made sense.

As I stood in the centre of the room with just a few minutes left to the fight, I secured the bandages on my arms and on other parts of my body. I looked no less than a walking mummy. Funny how I never thought I'd master the art of cleaning and bandaging wounds perfectly. It was all thanks to Phil.

There was a knock on the door. "Mr. Hargrave, it's time."

My heart did a somersault in my chest. I looked in the mirror and didn't look a least bit ready, physically or mentally. I speeded up as I bandaged my palms so I could lay an effective punch without breaking my already scathed fingers.

A man wearing a blazer opened the door, a thin pair of glasses sat on his nose, his hair whitening from the roots. "Are you ready, Sir?" He spoke with respect, his voice soft and encouraging.

"I need a cigarette."

"But-"

"Please." I glared at him with intensity.

He shuffled in his pockets and handed me one. Exasperatedly, I let out a sigh of relief. I put it between my lips and he lighted it for me. "So, you work for him?"

"I'm a financial advisor." He clasped both his hands together.

"Then you must know all the amazing things Augustus does for the society, huh?" I scoffed at him, shaking excess ash off the cigarette. "Tell me, why do you work for this man?"

He shifted uneasily in his place. "Mr. Bancroft does what is expected of him."

He didn't answer anything. "Right." And who the fuck was expecting anything from him? That asshole did whatever the hell he wanted. Unless of course, someone was backing him up.

"We must hurry." The financial advisor lead me out the door. That got me wondering, why would they even send a financial advisor to summon me? Maybe because he was the only decent guy present there, and they wanted to be nice to the person they were going to kill?

As we trudged down the seemingly never-ending corridor, adrenaline was rushing through my veins. My mind was too consumed with pessimistic thoughts so I narrowed my perception forcefully, until all I saw was me, the ring, and Augustus — the man who poisoned Raymond, kidnapped Ace, beat up Damien, harassed Breanna, tortured me, and killed Phil.

All I knew was that today, I wasn't gonna go easy on this man. He was going down with me.

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