Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Finnic
She’s asleep. Peacefully at that, which is a bit alarming considering where she is at the moment. Dry blood is speckled all over her legs, and her pale dress is stained from the tussle on the way here.
Her brunette hair is also tangled from the struggle and bruises have already begun to form on her arms from being gripped roughly by Dante earlier tonight.
He had to wipe his nose clean of blood after we got her loaded in the truck. She’d caught him good when she was flailing around like a crazy person.
I lean against the wall opposite of her. You’d think by now she’d be kicking and screaming again since Dante pulled the tape off of her mouth. But yet the room is filled with quiet snores.
She finally shifts faintly as I peel myself off of the wall. I think he tranquilized her with entirely too much chloroform.
Up to this point, taking her had been almost effortless. I wasn’t new to ugly things. Shoving guns past lips and knives being sunk deep into warm flesh was just a casual Monday for me. This time would be no different, except every hostage before her has been a male. And she most certainly is not.
Maybe that’s the source of the faint sympathy I feel.
Dante assumed the daughter of the accused thief would know something worth our time or would be useful as bait. He couldn’t give a shit about which way this went as long as the outcome was in our favor. Though, I didn’t blame him for that.
Dante is the head over the plan. Without him, I wouldn’t know what the fuck to do next, and admitting that to myself felt like shit.
I shake it off. Who outranked who doesn’t matter. It’s a simple plan and she will break easily just like the rest.
She startles awake as my boots scruff across the floor. She watches me with wide eyes, completely unaware of what I’m here for.
Dante wants me to talk with her first. Said I’m the friendlier option to start with. Our biggest priority is to get her to give up the stolen money’s location, or use her as a bargaining chip to get it.
“You need water?” I ask.
She blinks, seeming hesitant to respond. But then slowly nods.
I reach for the bottle on the crate by the door, twisting the cap off before walking back over to her.
I then crouch and hold the bottle out. “Slow.”
She pauses a moment as the plastic touches her bottom lip. “You don’t want to make yourself sick. Those drugs we put you out with can cause some shitty after effects.”
Her head tips back slightly as I guide the bottle upward. She drinks in careful sips, her eyes never leaving my face, like she expects the water to turn into something else if she looks away.
When she’s done, she turns her head to the side. But I don’t miss the quietest “Thank you” under her breath.
The fear seems to be shifting into a slight compliance. I straighten and cap the bottle, setting it aside.
“I’m not sure if you know why you’re here,” I say as if I’m asking a question.
Her mouth parts, then closes. She shakes her head once.
“Your father,” I continue, “he never repaid his debt to our boss.”
Her jaw tightens. “My father is a good man, he would never work with people like you.” Either she is lying or she is very good at looking like she isn’t.
A smirk pulls at my lips. She can see that clearly. Our masks only cover our hair, nose and neck. “That’s not what I’ve heard. Seems to me that your dad is in some pretty deep shit with people like me.”
“People say a lot of things.” Her chin lifts a fraction, defiant despite the circumstances. “Doesn’t make them true.”
I shift my weight, boots scraping against the floor. She flinches, then seems to catch herself, shoulders stiffening like she refuses to give me any satisfaction.
“Look,” I say, keeping my tone calm. “This doesn’t have to be complicated. Tell us where the money is, or give us something leading to it and this ends quickly.”
Her lips press together. “I don’t know,” she says softly. “If there is any stolen money, I’ve never seen or heard of it.”
I study her face, the chapped redness blooming against pale skin, the exhaustion sitting heavy behind her eyes. She doesn’t seem like she is lying, but I have no idea who this girl truly is. It could be an act, or maybe she is just that ignorant.
I exhale through my nose. “Okay, I believe you.”
She meets my gaze then. “Really?”
A chuckle slips from my mouth. “Sure.”
I stand from my crouched position and walk toward the door, opening it for Dante who stands patiently behind it.
“But I’m not sure he does.”