Do you ever get the feeling that something is wrong? It was like you could smell it in the air, a scent that burned your nose so strongly it gave you a headache. That's exactly what I felt the moment I unlocked the door to my waterfront apartment.
The atmosphere was thick with anticipation as I silently slipped my piece from my waistband, where it had been perfectly concealed by my suit jacket. I lightly kicked the door shut with the back of my heel and put my pointer finger through the metal ring of my keys so I could grip the gun with both hands. My feet quietly clicked against the wood, my black gun pointed in front of me as I spun around the corner to the right.
Nothing. My living room was empty.
Slowly, I moved sideways moving towards my open kitchen to check for someone behind my marble island or in the dining room. Again, there was nothing. With the right side of my apartment cleared, I turned towards the other side of the home, ready to check the hallway with two bedrooms and a bathroom. There was someone else in this apartment and I was sure of it. After my encounter today, there was nothing that could convince me otherwise.
My heartbeat was low and relaxed, my silent sniper breathing coming to a crawl as I approached the dim hallway. Just as I was about to turn into the first bedroom to my right, a black figure appeared from the doorway, snapping the weapon out of my hand using one arm while their other held a pistol of their own.
The heavy metal clattered to the floor as I stood on my right foot and swung my left foot up, kicking the towering six foot two stranger in the face and forcing the gun to the ground with my leg. It didn't fall like mine had, though. Instead, he spun it in his hand expertly, attempting to pistol whip me in the temple. Luckily, I dodged the blow just in time.
My momentary shock provided the perfect opportunity for him to swipe my feet out from under me with his own leg, my body slamming against the hardwood floor and pain blossoming in the back of my head. The black figure descended on me, punching my already aching skull, burying their fist in my jaw as I kneed them in the balls. I didn't even hear a grunt or see a lull in his movements as he grabbed my wrists, dragging my body on the hardwood floor. My heels squeaked, probably leaving black rubber skids on the expensive flooring.
My nails dig into his wrists, drawing warm blood that dribbled onto my hands slowly as I fought, my body easily being moved like a rag doll around my apartment. When we reached the kitchen his leg wrapped around my neck, keeping me in a chokehold to distract me from the fact that one of my wrists was let go of. Despite my best efforts, this intruder had the element of surprise, superior strength, and larger size in his corner. My left arm was useless, his leg keeping it practically immobile.
I heard the metal click of handcuffs before I felt the cool sensation. My body was hauled up, my wrist grinding against the tight restraints as my arms were tried together up to my shoulders. Burning pain seared through my nerves, feeling like my shoulder blades were being ripped out as I started to lose consciousness from the lack of air my brain was receiving.
My thrashing grew weaker, so much so that when my body was finally released and thrown on the ground for the figure to tie my ankles together, I didn't even have it in me to resist as my aching lungs heaved for oxygen. This son of a bitch was good. Too good.
"I usually leave my women breathless but this is a little bit of an exaggeration, Sweetheart." The deep and cocky voice of the man at my feet vibrated through my ears over my incessant gasping. My pupils constricted in pure and unadulterated hatred as I focused my laser gaze on the familiar raven-haired Middle Easterner with a rich French accent in the back of his throat. I didn't recognize him in the slightest aside from this morning, but with his skills, that fact only attested to his greatness. Maybe this weapons job would be a little harder than I thought.
When I didn't respond he only smirked to himself, running a caramel-colored hand through his jet black hair before standing up from his crouch and hauling me up by my sore forearms. "After all I've heard, I expected the amazing Athena Zelin to be a little more talkative," he mused while slamming my back against the cold island, easily dragging my entire body onto it with one hand the collar of my shirt.
"Fuck you," I spat out aggressively before sending him a patronizing smirk. "Better?" Under the lights of my kitchen, his sculpted features stood out, portraying pure enigma. Though I was more focused on the deep bruise starting to form just above his full and shaped eyebrow, boosting my damaged ego. He might have won the war but I had a good battle.
"Much better," he chided back. "You know cuffs are much better on women like you; harder to get out off." He drawled sarcastically at me while looking down at my face with an impassive look.
"You're not going to kill me," I didn't dare amuse him with my sarcasm. Instead, I stayed with my eyes dead set on the white ceiling and my voice monotone. "You would have just shot me point blank when I walked in. What do you want from me?"
"You're very impatient, Zelin." His thumb and forefinger held my chin, tilting my head so I was looking at his emotionless face, his vibrant blue eyes pits of emotionless disinterest. "Has anyone ever told you vandalism is wrong?"
"Has anyone ever told you breaking into someone's apartment is wrong? Let's skip the theatrics. Rip my fingernails out or don't. I could use some excitement in my foreplay." Was this really about the fucking painting? This fool must have to be insane to create a rivalry with me over fifty million dollars. Based on his skill set, we both had much bigger things in the works. That fucking painting couldn't have lead to this culmination.
"I like your style," he mused. His hand left my skin to reach for the chefs' knife in the wooden block sitting on my counter. "I'm much more of a fan of waterboarding, though. I'd hold still if I were you. Wouldn't want to cut yourself." The blade sliced through my shirt on the left, from hip to shoulder, before he did the same on the other side. With my black bra and creamy skin exposed, he dragged the tip of the blade down my flat stomach, scraping the sensitive flesh.
He rested the cool metal on my abdomen, leaving it there as a warning while picking up the dog tags resting on my cleavage. "Risky move, wearing these," he pointed out innocently. I didn't respond. His stoic face observed mine for a reaction but I didn't give one, instead of staring straight ahead again. With the click of his tongue, he slid my body roughly to the edge of the island, my head hanging over the stainless steel sink while my arms cried in agony from the rope burn. A scrap of my shirt was placed over my head and the freezing cold water from the tap turned on at full force. I held my breath, calming my pulse and ignoring the shivers running through my body as a result of the marble on my skin and the ice water on my face and neck.
He wasn't playing around. This man was going to bring me right to the edge of death but for what I didn't know. Revenge? Fun? Or were we after the same bigger prize?
I was more than willing to bet my life on the later.
I didn't thrash or wriggle against his hands on my shoulders; it would only be a waste of oxygen. I held my breath for a good eighty seconds before my mouth subconsciously forced itself to open, my damn reflex for survival kicking in. Water flooded my mouth and nostrils as I coughed under the stream. The man's large hand held the back of my head in place before he shut the tap off and took the cloth off my face. I sputtered for air but I refused to meet his eyes or look anywhere but straight ahead of me.
"Where are the codes to L'clerc's accounts?" I purposefully flexed my jaw, making it very clear what I thought about telling him the answers. He clicked his tongue tauntingly and placed the sopping wet cloth over my mouth and nose again. "I can do this all night, Zelin." The water-filled my mouth before I heard the sound of the tap. Despite my attempts to calm myself, I couldn't help but feel the burning agony in my lungs and feel my consciousness starting to slip as he held me under for an even longer duration of time.
My throat was raw from coughing and gurgling water, spitting it out of my mouth as soon as the cloth was lifted. "Why is Hans still alive?" He didn't waste a second in barking down my throat before the fuzzy feeling in my head could even dull.
"Do it again and I'll knock myself out," I growled out. "Besides, I don't get down with men I don't know so you'll need to find someone else to continue your foreplay with."
"We both know that's not true, Zelin. You get down with anyone for the right price."
"You make it sound like I'm a prostitute."
"We both perform for money," he drawled with a taunting smirk. "I think that makes us close enough, Sweetheart. So tell me, where are the codes?"
"Over my dead fucking body," I spat out, my head starting to clear despite my throbbing headache. "Do me a favour and strangle me with my dog tags if you're going to ask the same stupid questions. Who's paying you? Because I'm sure I know just the man who can double it."
"Think I'm a cheap date?" His cold eyes burned into my skin, memorizing the curve of my cheekbones and the way my warm brown eyes looked under the light with my wet black lashes. When his life went to shit, you know my face would be the thing in the front of his mind because somehow it would be my fault. I knew that because I was giving him the same fucking look. "Jakob Kavyat isn't a fan of traitors, Zelin."
I almost snorted. One of the best fixers in the world and he's pandering to Kavyat? A drug trafficker worth half what Rick was. Kavyat must be paying a pretty penny for this man. He was a fool for putting all his eggs in one basket. "Tell me where the codes are, Athena. I really don't want to have to gut you so soon. It's incredibly rude."
"You know the best part about what happens if you gut me? My DNA, my prints, face, tattoos, even the rod in my arm has a serial number being tracked by the top tiers of Interpol and the United States government. Kill me, cremate me, and throw me in the ocean but someone will always find me and when they do, there's only so many people that could have executed me. I might not know who you are just yet, but I'm sure if you kill me ten more people will have your name in their mouths."
"You think that scares me?"
"It should."
He laughed mercilessly. "You don't scare me, Athena. I won't waste my time with a black operations prodigy when I can get the same information through easier vessels, though this was a fun little challenge." I watched blankly as he reached for the wet rag. I clenched my jaw shut but despite my best efforts, he easily pried it open with two hands and stuffed the sopping cloth in my mouth. His large hand covered my lips as I tried to spit it out, his free hand reaching into his blue suit pocket and grabbing another bundle of rope. It burned against the delicate skin on my face as he tied it around my head between my lips, holding the gag in place. This man was really trying to suffocate me without actually doing it.
"I hope we do this again sometime soon." He picked up the knife on my stomach and tossed it across the apartment, embedding it somewhere in my living room floor. "Have fun with that. I would help you out, but I prefer my women tied up. Besides, I could use a head start."
He stepped away from the island, turning the lights off after his footsteps padded on the wood floor back to the front door. Just as he was about to leave, I heard him call out to me. "May 4th, 2020, West Prague."
And before I could even respond, his large, dashing, figure disappeared as the rest of the lights were flipped off and I was left to figure out how the hell I was going to escape these bounds.
I'll kill him even if it's the last thing I do.