Chapter 4 – Val
I sat reclined in my chair, eyes fixed on the live footage playing on my laptop’s screen. My little guest, the petite blonde, sat curled up at a corner, her eyes catching the light in an unnatural glimmer.
To her, the room was pitch black, but with the aid of the camera’s night vision, I could see everything in grainy shades of grey. She looked around, confused and afraid, her shoulders moving uncomfortably as she tried to struggle with the zip ties that bound her wrists.
Honestly, I expected her to have freaked out by now already. But she didn’t. She just sat there, observing the darkness in silence. Most people would have already started screaming for help. Not this one.
Interesting.
At first, I thought she was just an ordinary, innocent college girl with a knack for taking pictures. However, seeing how calm she was in the face of danger, I couldn’t help but reconsider and re-evaluate her status.
Why was she fearless? Was she working for someone?
That kind of composure wasn’t taught in colleges, and that sparked my curiosity. The room was dark enough to make her lose her mind, yet this “photographer” didn’t fret.
Yes, she did panic at the beginning, but not in the way that I expected her to. Not to mention how quickly she adapted to the dark. Damn, that was impressive, intriguing, and very suspicious.
Two things: either she wasn’t who the record said she was, or she was just an ordinary girl with an incredible amount of emotional intelligence. Whichever the case, little Miss Lois Lane had piqued my curiosity.
I dragged on my Cuban cigar, savoring the taste on my tongue as I got out of my chair and headed out. Down the basement, through the hallway dimly lit with flickering lights, I strolled, quiet and composed.
I paused before the closed door, entered the code, and pushed it open, the hallway lights spilling into the dark room. She lifted her head slowly, and when I met her gaze, I saw the fear simmering beneath the surface, the fear she tried to hide.
My footsteps were slow and deliberate, with one hand in my pocket and my face shrouded in the shadows. She locked her jaw, her chest rising and falling with even breaths. Her composure said she wasn’t afraid, but her amber eyes betrayed her.
“You, Wren Maddox, have caused me quite a bit of trouble,” I said, watching her closely.
Her breath hitched, and she swallowed, fear flashing across her gaze. However, her reply was a stark contrast to the terror on her face. “I’m the one in chains for no reason, locked up in a dark room like an animal.”
My eyes squinted; I couldn’t help but be a little impressed by her bravery. Most people cowered at my feet in situations like this. Not this golden blonde.
“I see you have a sharp tongue,” I said, dragging on my cigar.
She swallowed again and tightened her jaw, as if summoning all the courage that she could muster. “Are you going to kill me?” Her voice shook slightly, but this pesky little damsel still held my gaze.
A faint smirk tugged at the corners of my mouth. “Depends on your cooperation.”
She knitted her brows together, a glint of confusion flickering in her gaze. “Cooperation?”
“Who sent you?” I asked, hitting the nail on the head.
She paused, brows arched. “I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”
“I won’t ask you again.” I crouched in front of her. “Who…sent…you?”
She looked into my eyes, and in hers, all I saw was bewilderment—like she had no idea what I was talking about.
“Look, I think this is some kind of big misunderstanding. You have the wrong girl,” she said, a hint of desperation creeping into her tone.
I scoffed, reached into my inner jacket, and withdrew one of the photos she took of me. “Does this look familiar?” I asked, sticking the picture in her face.
“Yeah, I took that two days ago,” she replied, oblivious to where I was going with this interrogation.
“Why?”
“Because I’m a photojournalism student,” she replied, furrowing her brows as if connecting the dots. “Wait a minute.” Her head tilted to the side. “Is that you in the picture?”
I rose to my feet, ignoring her question.
A scoff escaped her lips, her tone tinged with anger and disbelief. “Lemme get this straight: You kidnapped me because I was taking photos for my school project when you happened to walk into my frame?”
I stood facing her, arms crossed.
She shook her head. “I can’t believe this.”
Silence. But my gaze was unwavering.
“Look,” she began, “I swear, I didn’t mean to take that photo—”
“You posted it,” I cut her off.
“Yes, because it was such a great photo, nothing more, nothing less!” The words jumped out of her mouth in a nervous rush, raw and defensive. “You have to believe me; no one sent me. I’m not working for anyone.”
I still didn’t say a word. She seemed convinced about her own innocence, but it would take a lot more than that to persuade me.
“Check my records. Everything I just told you is true. I’m just a student,” she added, pleading with her eyes.
Silence.
I’d already checked her records, and she was clean. Maybe too clean. But that didn’t change the fact that she put out a photo of me on the internet while I struck shady deals with my allies in the criminal underworld.
She exposed me to the world, put a target on my back, and almost cost me a million-dollar contract because my associates weren’t pleased with the photo. No, a little explanation for her recklessness just wouldn’t cut it for me.
“Look, I’m sorry. I—I can take down the picture,” she stuttered, her voice trembling subtly. “This is just a big misunderstanding. I didn’t think a single photo would land me in trouble. I was just at the wrong place, at the wrong time. You gotta believe me. Please.”
Oh, so she can beg.
I stepped forward and lowered myself to her level, eyes scanning her reaction. “You claim you’re innocent, that no one sent you.” I brushed a lock of hair behind her ear.
She swallowed hard. “That’s right.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
I hesitated, my gaze roaming her body. “I guess we’ll find out,” came my reply as I rose to my feet.
“What does that mean?” she asked, eager, wide-eyed.
I ignored her and headed out of the room, shoes scuffing against the floor.
“Hey, what does that mean?!” she yelled after me, her voice dripping with fear. “What does that mean?!”
Even after I slammed the door shut and locked it behind me, I could still hear her muffled voice, yelling about her innocence.
That’s more like that. That’s what I expected of her. My lips curled into a self-satisfied smirk, and I walked away, leaving her alone in complete and utter darkness.