Sinnerman

Chapter 12 Covet & Innocence

It was a rare occurrence that Kylo arrived before his visitor. But today, it was him treated to an empty interrogation room, as opposed to the poor victim coming to talk with him. He was the one now lying in wait.

He is shoved, carelessly as ever, into the loveless metal chair that slams hard into his back, cutting into the back of his knees. He doesn't grunt. He doesn't object. By now, he's used to the brutal shoves and bruises he gains from tussles with the terse tempered guards.

It was a sad thing - not that he realised it. But to anyone else it would be. Being used to becoming an object that's merely roughly handled by all those surrounding him. Familiar with unfriendly hands jerking his wrists, or shoving his shoulders. Every beat and every touch putting him in his place. Reminding him, that to them, he was seen as little more than a large violent jumpsuit filled with muscle, with a short fuse of a temper problem.

Blondie was coming back today - Kylo made sure of it. He'd layered the charm on real thick on their last appointment. Spoke and talked to the man as if he were his oldest, dearest friend in the world. He - gruffly - answered every question that Michaels brought up about his childhood, his college degree, his job. For fucks sake, he'd even thrown in the name of the damn dog his family had growing up.

Blondie ate it up like a man starved.

Kylo spoke to the man like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. Only the fool was too busy bragging about his love life, and making notes on Kylo's answers to comprehend how his dark eyes glowed with malice. And his curling smirk never left his lips. Not once. He was too thick to understand how dangerous that reaction was from a bored sociopath.

Blondie parted when their time was up, with his notebook bursting will filled pages. Scrawled with his notes detailing Kylo's life. From his place of birth, his high school roll of honour, right through to his award winning career as one of the most innovative brutalist, mid century modern style of architect's this city had ever seen.

He'd stood up from the table, doubly brimming with vigour and pride at himself. He scoffed a dry laugh as he gathered in his things, remarking that he didn't know what Evie had been bitching about, he'd never had such an easy time talking to a prisoner. Kylo sneers at his musing. Muttering a deep and dark "That so?" One brow arcing up. Tilting his head at the guy. Before he left the room, he'd told Kylo he'd be back the same time next week for another chat.

Idiot should've been running for the fucking hills.

He watched his interviewer swagger away with such ill-fated confidence. Kylo smiled to himself all the way back to his cell. He then discreetly put a call into Ben. Not knowing that night, he was actually tearing away his twin from a very pleasant date with a somewhat familiar bookish writer.

Ben had to do a double take when he heard of Kylo's demand - it wasn't unreasonable. Just an unusual one. One that would involve some of Ben's shadier set of contacts.

His twin had raised a brow in disbelief - but acquiesced to Kylo's request after he explained tersely over the phone.

"Can you do it?" Kylo growls lowly. "I wanna see that fucker get what he deserves." He adds in a growl.

"Of course I can do it." Ben smiles with a laugh. "You assume I can't?" He adds.

"I don't know how short your memory is Kylo. But just remember that it wasn't just your efforts that landed you in that place." He reminds him with his usual off brand of dark humour.

"I remember." His twin answers lowly.

Every day he wake's up in his shithole in a drab cell, in this rotten hell-scape, he remembers that it wasn't just his actions that served to get him locked up.