Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Everleigh
Finnic and Dante left the room a bit earlier. Though, Dante didn’t shut the door all the way. It isn’t very wide, but I can easily peek through it to see if anyone is in the small hallway.
Dante seems to be trying to prove his point already. He first wants to see if Finnic will try to stop me from escaping the room itself.
A small smile pulls at my lips. Dante’s always so anxious to get started. But I know that man well enough to know it’s only because he’s ready to return to his cigarettes and bottomless bourbon.
Poor Finnic. He’s completely unaware of why he’s really here.
He’s annoyingly gullible and hasn’t seemed to question anything as of yet.
He doesn’t know who I really am.
Or about who my true father is.
And he definitely isn’t smart enough to look down at his neck to see the cord I’m slowly going to wind around it, one that will eventually come to cut his oxygen off entirely, if he chooses wrong.
I shift slightly, just enough to make the zip-ties around my wrists cut into the skin more. It hurts, but I need to sell the pain to sell the lie. I wince for the empty room, knowing even if they aren’t watching, they could be listening.
This whole charade has to be believable.
I stand from the mattress slowly and as quietly as I can without alarming them of my movement. I plan to make this seem as realistic of an escape as possible.
The soles of my feet press into the cold floor as I take each step toward the cracked doorway. The Louboutins I had on when I was initially kidnapped are now missing from my feet.
I’m hoping Dante put them up for safe keeping, but knowing him, he probably thrust them into the nearest dumpster.
He always complains about how much money I spend on clothes, even though it’s not his money I’m spending.
I pause a few feet from the door and tilt my head slightly, listening to whatever my hearing can pick up. Sure, I have to wear contacts to see better, but my hearing is ten out of ten.
Voices then filter through the narrow gap.
“I’m telling you,” Dante says quietly, “She’s lying.”
Finnic responds swiftly. “You don’t know that.”
I test the zip-ties again as I listen, rolling my wrists just enough to make my fingers tingle. They’re tight, but not impossible. If I pull my wrists hard enough away from each other, I’m sure the ties will snap.
Will it hurt like a bitch? Of course.
But my father didn’t raise a weakling.
I raise my wrists to my mouth and bite into the plastic of the zip-tie. If I can weaken the material enough, pulling them apart won’t be much of a problem.
After a few tries, the chewed on plastic is thinner than before. It should be thin enough to snap with enough pull, so I press the inner parts of my wrists together before I give it my all to tug them opposite of each other.
The first try doesn’t give, so I tug on the plastic again with my canine to try and dislodge more of the material.
I then try to force them apart again as I listen to the two bicker outside in the hallway.
A small, involuntary sound makes its way from my mouth as the plastic snaps, falling to the floor with a click-like noise.
My skin is red and damaged from the friction of trying to remove them multiple times.
A smile rises on my face, but as soon as it does, it falls when I notice the hallway has gone quiet.
Oh fuck, don’t tell me they heard me already?
I freeze in place for what seems like forever, but no footsteps move in this direction. Maybe they didn’t hear anything and I’m just being paranoid.
I then take another risky step to glance through the doorway.
The hallway is lit by a single buzzing fluorescent that blinks every few seconds as if it is about to light up for the last time.
Dante stands way at the end with his back to me, one hand already fishing a cigarette from his pocket. Finnic faces him, his posture absolutely rigid.
Dante told me before that the past year of working with Finnic had been agitating, to put it mildly. Finnic questions everything. He dissects every job, every call, as if there is always some moral equation to solve.
He apparently tries to justify people, letting strangers crawl into his head to rewrite the narrative. They tend to convince him that they are truly victims when they are just really good at lying.
He says that Finnic has a good heart, which is the main problem. He seems to only be effective when the violence makes sense to him. Usually when the target has hurt someone innocent first.
Outside of that, Finnic hesitates.
And in this line of work, hesitation is dangerous.
Dante starts, “Listen, kid.”
“I’m not a fucking child, Dante. You know that. I’ve been by your side for a while now and I know how this shit goes down.”
Finnic’s voice carries down the hallway. I maneuver closer to the opening in the door, this time leaning on the door’s frame to keep me balanced.
Dante exhales smoke directly towards Finnic’s face.
“Knowing how it goes down and helping me out a few times doesn’t mean you understand it fully,” he replies. “That girl in there is connected to something bad. Her father made enemies you don’t walk away from.”
“And that makes her disposable just because her father made a shitty decision?” Finnic shoots back.
I shift my weight again and this time the wooden frame creaks.
My eyes widen slightly.
I’m not ready to run. Truthfully, I hate the idea of it.
I train constantly, alone and with Dante, sparring until my muscles scream, but running has always been my least favorite work-out.
I’d already bolted once from them in heels, my feet raw and throbbing from the gravelly road, and the thought of doing it again makes my temper flare.
I lean over just enough to peer down the corridor, checking for movement.
The second I do, Finnic’s head snaps toward the doorway. His gaze catches mine immediately and his eyes widen.
Adrenaline pumps through my veins at the idea of being caught.
There’s something thrilling about all of this.
I am untouchable. If Finnic crosses a line without Dante’s say-so, the situation will end before it ever becomes an issue.
I can see the alarms going off in Finnic’s head as he gradually takes another step in my direction.
I open the door the rest of the way, conceding that my desire to avoid running, is officially dead.
“Hey,” he says softly. “What are you doing?”
Dante swears under his breath and fully turns our way, flicking his cigarette down to the ground in the process, “Jesus Christ.”
His voice cuts through the hallway sharply like he’s irritated, but my attention is already locked on Finnic who is moving directly towards me now.
He takes slow steps as if I am a deer in his headlights and he doesn’t want to spook me.
His hands are up, palms open, posture angled just enough to block the hallway behind him without making it obvious.
“Just let me go-” I start, letting my voice shake as I put my hands in front of me protectively.
Finnic’s gaze drops instantly to my wrists and his jaw tightens.
He glances at Dante for a moment and then flings his head in my direction, “Her zip-ties are missing.”
I don’t say anything and continue to watch his movements as he inches closer.
Dante shoves Finnic to the side, strutting right past him in my direction.“Get back in that fucking room, right now.”
I flinch and dramatically recoil from Dante’s voice.
Finnic senses the shift in me, the fear I feign pressing against that part of him that always wants to save someone.
“You’re scaring her, just let me-”
Dante lets out a low chuckle. “We’re not here to play nice, kid.”
I take a step back, deliberately misjudging the distance so that the heel of my foot will catch on a crack in the concrete. My balance wobbles and I grab for anything on the way down.
Before I slam into the ground, Finnic moves in front of Dante swiftly, catching my arm just in time before I connect.
The contact sends a jolt through my body. His grip is firm but not in any way rough. His gloved hands wrap around my forearm to steady me.
That’s my opening.
I twist abruptly, yanking my arm back to shove against his chest with everything I have. It’s in no way enough to knock him down, but it’s something.
“Don’t touch me!” I shout, panic racing through my voice as I lunge past him toward the far end of the hallway.
Dante lunges for me as I bolt past him, but of course he misses on purpose, selling the chaos.
Finnic swears under his breath and takes off after me himself.
I push myself harder, legs burning as I run the length of the warehouse, desperate to see how far he’ll chase me. How badly he’ll want to drag me back to that stuffy room.
A smile makes its way onto my face as I continue to sprint away from him. As much as I hate running, it is pretty funny doing this to someone who thinks I am actually trying to get away.
He is in the fight of his life while I am just having fun as if we are playing tag.
Before I get close to the exit door, hands clamp around my waist from behind, locking tight and halting me from going anywhere else. I flail around, doing my best to make him struggle with his grip.
“Stop!” he shouts. “You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep freaking out like that.”
I thrash violently, breaths coming out ragged as his grip tightens. He then turns, moving to guide me back toward the room.
I feel childish as he carries me in air-jail back into the hallway. I feel similar to a child who wasn’t able to get a toy from the store, kicking and screaming the whole way out.
Good for Finnic though. He gains a loyalty point just by doing this one thing.
I need to make it a little tougher for him though.
I clutch his arms, digging my nails into his skin deep enough to draw blood.
“Let me go!” I scream, fighting like someone with nothing left to lose.
My foot comes down hard on the top of his toes. I’d used that once or twice in the past on Dante during sparring and he’d always let go once I did.
“Damn it-”
His hold shifts, but surprisingly becomes much firmer. His arms cinch around me, containing any fight I try and throw his way.
My back presses to his chest as he hauls me along.
“Easy,” he whispers near my ear. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
His breath tickles my ear causing a giggle to slip from my lips. “I’ve heard that shit before.”
My elbow drives back into his ribs. He grunts, grip loosening just enough to give me room for one more move.
I lunge forward and sink my teeth into his forearm, biting down hard enough that blood floods into my mouth as my canines break his skin. Luckily, his sleeves had rolled up at some point. Probably from me thrashing around.
He snarls and shoves me away with force, straight into Dante’s waiting arms.
I barely have time to register the gasp that tears from my own throat before something sharp pierces my upper arm.
A genuine shriek escapes me as I look down to see a needle in my skin before it’s being withdrawn.
The strength drains from my limbs almost instantly, the fight leaking out of me like water through cracked glass. My head drops forward causing my brown hair to spill over my face.
“Please,” I whisper faintly, hoping Finnic will hear my pleas.