This place is massive. And I didn't even have to bother with finding a light switch because this place has motion-censored lights, allowing me to take it all in.
Surprisingly, it just looks like an expensive man-cave—what with its pool table and giant tv and warmly decorated colors. Criminals or not, I have to give the designer of this place props. They did a good job.
Sadly, though, there's not much else in here. It doesn't look like the kind of place a bunch of drug lords would do their dirty work, but then again, they don't much look like drug lords either.
My hand hesitantly glides to the waistband of my leggings, checking to make sure it's still there, though obviously it wouldn't have up and walked away. It's just a nervous tick, I guess. Before I got out of the car, I grabbed my gun from the glove compartment and tucked it into my pants, letting my sweater fall down and cover it just in case. I mean, I know there isn't anyone here—if the previous darkness in the room, zero cars, and lock on the cellar door are any consolation—but one can never be too careful.
Making my way around the room, I check in random drawers and under the couch. Basically anywhere I can find that'll give me something else incriminating. I find nothing, but when I throw my head back and let out an irritated groan, I notice something: a door.
A grin stretches across my face as I tread over to it and pull it open. The smell that assaults me is stale and rank, and all there is to see is stone. Taking tentative steps down the stone stairs, a path of light follows me, illuminating the way. When I reach the bottom, I'm shocked and horrified to see that I recognize the place. It is the one I saw in the video from Corey's computer; the one where they were beating a guy named Damien.
Before me is a much smaller space, all stone, all dark. It seems the lights in here aren't nearly as bright as they were upstairs, maybe for the fear it no-doubt instills into any victim that sit waiting in here to be tortured. I'm certainly afraid, and suddenly, it isn't only because of the big cage in the moderately-sized room, or red-stained chair in the center. It isn't even because of the cart of rusty tools coated in dried blood in the corner. It's because I hear footsteps.
How had I not noticed I've been followed sooner?
Yet I already know the answer to that question. These men have an uncanny way of clouding any rational thought or judgement. My senses are thrown on overdrive, and suddenly they no longer work properly. They're here.
Slowly, I turn around, knowing I'm about to see three angry men. I know it must be North, Silas, and Gabriel. I had the overwhelming sense that they'd been following me earlier, and yet I didn't see their car. I didn't see them trailing me on my way here, so that must mean they were tracking me a different way... And then it all clicks. They've been tracking my phone, and I don't even want to think about how they were able to do that right now.
"Um, hey, guys. Didn't see ya there," I say weakly when I'm finally facing them, trying, for some strange reason, to appear innocent. Maybe if I pretend like I got lost, they—
"You really expect us to believe you got lost?" North seethes, his shoulders pushed back and his fists balled at his sides, clearly ready for a fight.
I smile like a child caught in a lie. And I guess I kind of am. "You know," I wave my hand in the air like I'm swatting at a fly, taking a page out of one of Raven's books. "I'm really bad with directions and I really needed to find a bathroom. Turns out there isn't one in this joint, and the service here is terrible. And, oh, did you guys see that big cage over there? Crazy, huh?"
Not one of them even cracks a smile. They so came down here to kill me.
Note to self: if you're being cornered by three super attractive criminals—two of which are practically the hulk—don't make jokes. Humor is definitely not the way to go.
"Baby..." North warns in a super deep, gravelly voice. Damn my stupid heart for fluttering. And damn my face for flushing.
"Yes, North Star?" I ask, still trying to play coy.
"Who are you?" Meanie answers in his stead.
My eyes dart to him, and down to the small, white rag he's holding. It's dripping, and something tells me it isn't with water.
"That depends on who is asking. To you, I am me, but to me, I am no more myself than yourself is to you."
His eyebrows scrunch together and his head tilts forward a little, like he's trying to understand what the hell I just said. Honestly, I don't even know myself. It could be because Alice's Adventures in Wonderland used to be my favorite book growing up, but again, I have no clue.
"Stop with the games, Sang. If that's even you're real name," North growls.
I can't help it. I giggle. "That kind of sounds like something out of a movie. Not that I'd really know. I've only ever watched two."
They look like they're about to question me on that, but ultimately decide it best to leave it alone. Good, because I really didn't want to have to explain it.
"Enough with this shit!" North suddenly roars. Not expecting that, I yelp and jump back, surprising them and myself once again. I'm never so outwardly afraid. His dark eyes soften for just a moment and his face slacks, until, of course, he realizes that I am the enemy. And his composure grows even stronger. "Who are you, and what do you want with my family?"
If looks could kill, I'd be so freaking dead right now. Like, jeez, ease up guys. You're gonna get wrinkles.
I sigh, my shoulders slacking up just a bit. They already know I'm not who I claim to be, so I might as well give them something. "You're bad men. You hurt people. Hell, you've killed people, and I can't continue to let that happen. Too many innocent lives you've taken, and that much more waiting to fall victim to you still. Which means all those people you've wronged, all those lives you've stolen, I've come to give peace to. You're bad men, and I've come to stop you."
"Well," North smirks, his whole demeanor changing. "That makes two of us. No one has threatened my family and lived to tell the tale, and you certainly won't be the first."
He takes a step towards me from his distance of about eight feet away, and, remembering the gun in my waistline, I swiftly pull it out and hold it level with his eyes.
"I don't want to hurt you, North Star. Believe me, this isn't easy for me. It kills me to know that I have to do this to you and your family. Because for some odd fucking reason, you've managed to wiggle your way into my heart, and that's something not many people can do. But, just to be clear, I will shoot you if I have to. You forget—because I'm sure the others have told you—that I have a family, too, and I'm willing to do whatever I must to protect him."
He doesn't bother putting his hands up or changing his stance at all. He stays exactly as he is, eyes glaring daggers and swords and shields at me. There's a war in his eyes, and somehow I just know that I'm the cause of it. Part of me wishes I could be the one to put an end to it, and part of me hopes there never is a ceasefire. Some wicked part of me wants to see the aftermath.
"Put the gun down, Trouble-girl. It isn't worth it, Sydney."
"My name isn't Sydney," I find myself practically spitting the words at him, but I don't bother turning to see his reaction. That would mean taking my eyes off the target, and if I do that, it'll so quickly be me in the line of fire, with a knife in my back and a bullet between my eyes.
"So it is Sang, then." It wasn't a question. He already knows.
Suddenly the air shifts around me, and I allow myself to take my eyes off North for just a fraction of a second, only to see that my Superman is charging at me.
He reaches out and grabs my arm... the one that Rebecca sliced. I let out a wild cry and in the blink of an eye, somehow I manage to flip him over my shoulder.
Yes, I may not be in the Academy because I'm exceptionally gifted in intelligence—though I wouldn't count myself short in that field either—but I can fight. In fact, despite the fact that I'm a girl and obviously so small, I'm the best fighter the Academy has seen in years. It isn't just about brute and braun.
It's also about speed and battle strategy and fighting tactics and knowing your adversary's next moves better than you know your own. Somewhere deep down, a part of me realized that by pointing my gun at North, Silas would be the first to charge. And my amazing reflexes and instincts took over before I even had the chance to blink, let alone think about my next move.
The good thing about Silas's large build is that I didn't have to do anything else to knock him out. He managed to fall in just the right way and at just the right speed to knock himself out. But the bad thing... my arm is basically screaming in pain right now from his death-like grip on it, even in that fraction of time.
I know my self-done stitching has torn and I can feel my blood leaking out of my bandage and through the sleeve of my sweater. And it was my favorite one, too. Sigh...
Not a moment later, North is running at me after I bested his friend, and while I barely know him, I do know that he's the type of fighter to swing first and think later. That's how I'm prepared for the fist coming at my face, even though a gun was aimed at his just moments ago.
Speaking of gun, little ole me completely forgot to turn off the safety. Ha! Classic Sang. So not the time.
In one super swift move, I dodge his hand and swing to the right. And instead of shooting him, because I actually really don't want to ruin his scary-as-hell-but-handsome-as-heaven face, I just bang the clip of the gun really hard into the side of his head, sending it barreling to the left and effectively knocking him out cold. He falls to the stone floor in a heap.
Two down, one to g—
Shit, Meanie looks terrified, and I actually feel kind of bad.
"I don't want to hurt you, Gabriel. Please, you have to know that."
"But who hurt you?" he asks, confusing me. His head nods down to my arm that is still profusely bleeding.
Again, I wave it off. "Oh, that? That's nothing. I'm just a bit of a klutz."
He doesn't buy it. "You don't look like a 'bit of a klutz' to me," he says, gesturing to his two friends lying on the floor.
I shrug. "Beginner's luck?"
"Sang—" he starts before I cut him off.
"What is that in your hand, huh? I'm assuming chloroform to knock me out, am I right?"
"How did you kn— I mean... um, no. Of course not."
"Right, well, how about you hand it over, and no one else has to get hurt," I give him an smile.
He shakes his head. Not in a way that says no, but in a way that just shows how confused he is at this whole situation, like he hadn't expected it to end like this. I guess that makes two of us.
"Gabriel," I whisper softly, taking tentative steps over to him. He doesn't even move, just keeps his gaze cast down to the floor, as if he's in a whole other world entirely. The look vaguely reminds me of Luke, though I haven't actually seen him daydream. I can just tell that he's the type.
Slipping the gun back into the waistband of my pants, ignoring the screaming burn of my arm and the amount of blood I'm losing, I slowly, gently take the rag out of his hand. And before he has a chance to snap out of his daze, I'm behind him, kicking the backs of his knees, making them buckle and sending him down to the floor.
In a quick move, I put the rag up to his nose, yet he doesn't even bother to fight back. I bend down so I'm at the same level as him, and we both slowly sink onto the floor together. He simply reaches out to lift a hand to the one I'm holding on his face, pressing down on it even further, and his other hand grabs hold of my leg, squeezing it gently as he begins to fade from this world.
And I find that I've been humming the whole time, trying to comfort him. My hand finds its way to his hair, and I play with it to soothe him. We rock softly from side to side, and I don't stop playing with his hair or humming or rocking until his grip on my hand and thigh loosen and his body falls slack.
I'm careful as I lift him off me and stand on my feet. Something in my heart breaks at what just transpired between Gabriel and I. It was so peaceful, yet so utterly gut-wrenching at the same time.
I force myself to shake those thoughts away as I rip off a strip of North's black t-shirt and wrap it tightly around my bleeding wound, tying it to secure it in place. And I run, remembering to smash my phone to the ground, so that when the rest of the guys show up and find the damage that I have done, they won't be able to find my phone as well and search through it. I can't even be sure if they have yet or not, but I do it just in case.
I sprint out of their secret base and into my car, speeding off to pick up my little brother to take us back home so we can pack a few bags and leave. It also won't hurt to stitch up my wound again.
Looks like Noah and I are getting out of that house faster than I planned. I guess the best part of this whole situation is that I'll never have to see Rebecca again. It's the little things in life that count.
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Did you like the chapter? I hope so, because I really enjoyed writing it. Anyways, next chapter coming soon.
Love you lots,
Tori