Chapter 5 Fallon
Fallon
Refusing to let these fuckers steal my sanity, I choose to go for my usual Saturday run.
Stupid? Probably. Brave? Maybe. Armed? Definitely.
I take my time putting on my leggings, making sure they cover the sheath on my hip.
Breathing deep, I force my limbs to move, exiting the apartment and taking in the brisk morning air.
It is early enough that the city is still quiet, but late enough that someone will hear me scream, I hope.
Little Girl Gone blasts through my headphones as I start out from the apartment.
I only have one headphone in for the first mile and I am feeling good.
No masks so far. I pop in the second one when I get to the river walk, settling into my pace and usual route.
I constantly glance left to right, over my shoulder, but no creepy masked psychos so far.
Tension steadily leaves my limbs and I work through the next mile.
The past week has been a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. It’s terrifying to be stalked, but there is still that little thrill that I just can’t tamp down from the night at the club.
On top of that, Quinn and I have been searching for Cerberus for months to get some answers that we could not get on our own, and I’ll be damned if they didn’t find me. What does that mean?
I know the attack three years ago was not my fault, so they can’t be following me in relation to that. Several years of therapy helped me let go of that shame… mostly.
But what if they are after me for the night many years before that?
The night my entire world changed? My anxiety spikes, just like any time I think of the darkness that came from that night.
The abandonment that left me alone to deal with the aftermath.
If I had not met Quinn in that silly group therapy for teens, I don’t think I would have survived.
I breathe a sigh of relief as I approach the familiar bend in the trail.
Halfway done and no masked man bullshit.
I am getting ready to turn around and start the second half of the run when I hear it.
Pausing the music, but keeping my pace, I listen for someone behind me.
Barely discernible steps matching my own.
I touch my hip; the steel solidifies my nerves. I dare to glance over my shoulder.
Fuck. My eyes meet dark ones piercing through the skull.
Blackness covers the bottom of the mask – like shadows.
My stomach clenches and I race away. If one is behind me, the others are probably here too.
Maria Brink’s voice echoes into the air as my phone blasts Adrenalize – and not through my headphones. What the fuck is going on?
My own adrenaline is coursing through my body.
Rounding the corner, I jump left, gravel crunching under my feet, just as another skull-faced bastard comes out from behind the undergrowth.
Deep growling echoes as his fingertips graze my shoulder and hair, with a burst of speed and a yelp of pain I am out of reach.
My scalp is on fire where that fucker snagged some hair. Oh, hell no. Not going out like that.
My chest is heaving and my muscles are burning, but I drink in the pain because it means I am still alive.
Forcing my arms to pump harder, I dare a glance behind me.
Where the fuck did they go? The path is clear behind me.
I slow my pace, my eyes frantically darting and searching for them.
Just as suddenly as the music started on my phone, it cuts off.
Eerie silence envelopes me, choking, strangling, fucking terrifying.
The only thing worse than a threatening masked man, is a threatening masked man that you can’t see.
What would the bitch in the horror movie do? Turn around, keep running, fucking freeze? None of these options are appealing. The shaking undergrowth ahead makes my decision for me. I turn and run the way I came, head swiveling. I just have to get home.
Minutes go by. Just keep going. The trees rush by in a blur, my lungs burning, limbs shaking; I refuse to slow down.
The end of this leg of the trail is coming into view.
Relief courses through me as I force my legs to take me home as fast as possible.
I just have to take a right at this final fork in the trail and I will be back on the street of my apartment.
I barely finish the thought when he appears, making no sound and materializing like a ghost from behind one of the trees that line the trail.
I’m forced to stop, skidding too close for comfort, and take the left side of the forked path.
He doesn’t touch me but follows on silent feet. Motherfucker. I was so close.
Deep laughter shakes me from my thoughts as the second masked asshole joins the first again.
I turn to the tunnel that will take me to the city instead of going further down the secluded river.
They are keeping pace behind me and my mouth tastes more metallic with each breath.
The screech of a black sedan ahead has the path blocked, and I skid to a stop, falling forward and scraping my palms on the gravel.
The third masked man steps out of the sedan.
Looking back and forth between the three, I rise on shaky feet as they close in.
“What the fuck do you want!” I rage at them, chest heaving as I scramble back up.
They don’t respond. Masks tilt, silence stretches, and my heaving breath echoes off the walls of the tunnel. As one, they move in slowly and methodically.
“HELP!” My throat cracks with the effort. I look around for someone to step in but the entire area is empty except for me and the approaching men. I’m choking on fear, struggling to get air past the tightness in my chest and into my lungs.
I wait for the right moment to strike. It takes a few seconds; it takes an eternity.
If this is it, then at least I am going to make them bleed.
When one reaches for me, I duck and spin out of his grip, only to find myself in the arms of another.
His mask by my ear, I can feel his breath.
“Wanna play with me?” His massive erection grinds into my lower back; the gravel in his low tone makes my pussy clench.
Bitch not now. One of his arms is tight around my chest and his other hand is leaving bruising fingerprints on my hip.
The other two keep coming closer and the grip of the one who has me wrapped up loosens a fraction – but it’s enough.
In one fluid motion, I have six inches of Damascus steel in my palm.
Before the others can cry a warning, I spin in my captors’s grip and slice across his chest. He immediately lets go of me as blood blooms on his shirt.
My glimmer of triumph fades as quickly as it appears when they cut off my exit.
Now that I’m cornered against a wall, they move in on me.
Make ‘em bleed. I strike out again at the one with the black jaws on his mask, but he moves aside so swiftly, that it’s as if he was never there.
I blink and there’s a calloused hand gripping my wrist. Squeezing and twisting until I drop my blade.
He jerks me forward and then turns me. The others close in.
The cloth over my mouth and nose isn't a surprise at this point, nor is the metallic scent and taste of the chloroform, but the remorse shining in the deep brown eyes facing me is. With my breathing still heavy from running, I can’t fight my inhale.
Back in the darkness. Back in my nightmare.
Back in my past. I can hear his panting but can't figure out where he is. One minute I’m above the sound and the next I’m below, with it so close to my ear.
I see nothing but darkness and I’m pinned; always pinned.
Revulsion washes over me as sensation comes and goes from my body.
Pain bursts on my wrists while throbbing envelops the entire left side of my body.
Something trickles down my face. I feel, I hear, but I still can’t fucking see.
I’m gagging on the smell of bergamot and whiskey.
Just when I beg the darkness to take me, my vision clears for an instant.
I take in a puckered burn scar on the right shoulder of the man above me. Then, nothing.
Waking up is next to impossible. The nightmare clings to me, wanting to drag me under, back to that night. I can still feel him above me, my wrists pinned so I can’t move, can’t fight back.
I peel my eyes open, straining to sort reality from the past. My stomach roils as I take in the sterile room, the unfamiliar bed beneath me.
I struggle to sit up, mainly because my head feels like it’s on a whirling teacup ride, and try to concentrate on my surroundings, but everything is going in and out of focus, the blinding light above casting strange shadows across the walls.
My breath comes in quick, shallow gasps when I try to move my hands, but can’t.
I glance down my body and see I’m tucked so tightly beneath the sheets that I can hardly move.
Fear of being held down, of not being able to fight back like that night hits me like a brick to the face.
Pinned. He has me pinned again. I’m back in that place, back in my nightmare.
I kick the covers away only to find rough rope wrapped around my wrists.
I stumble off the bed, but there’s nowhere to go in this box of a room.
My legs are too numb for me to make it far, anyway.
I sink to the ground; the impact sends a painful crack through my knees.
Fear races through me as I struggle to take in a solid breath, my heartbeat a wild thrum in my ears.
It’s been a while since a panic attack has hit me this hard.
Breathe, I tell myself. Come on. Breathe.
I vaguely hear the metal door in front of me swing open. Someone approaches. They’re saying something, but their voice sounds like they’re talking through water.
A flash of steel at their side has me falling back on my ass and my senses sharpening. My vision clears enough that a masked man comes into focus. It’s the one with the jaw painted as black as night.
“Easy,” he says, then shows me the wicked sharp dagger. “Relax. I’m going to cut you loose.”
I think it’s the shock of hearing his actual voice again, so smooth and confident and calm, and not warped like in their videos, that has me sitting still long enough for him to slide the blade between the ropes and cut me free. But as soon as the tattered remains hit the ground, I’m on my feet.
I whirl, grabbing the closest object I can get my hands on and spin back, ready to fight him off.
His wild laugh makes me jump. “Gonna fight me with a lamp, Siren?”
My eyes narrow. Siren?
“Thinking about it,” I quip back. My eyes dart around the room, taking in the details as quickly as I can, looking for an exit, but I’m trapped. There’s only one way in and out of here and this fucker is blocking it.
He plays with the blade between his fingers. “I would advise against it.”
“And I would advise that you kiss my ass.”
That mask tilts. “Tempting.”
What the fuck? I raise the lamp like I might take a swing. “You’ve been following me all week.”
He slips the knife back in its sheath, and shrugs. “Yeah.”
“What the hell do you want from me?”
“What Cerberus always wants. To reveal the truth. To make the guilty pay.”
“And what does that have to do with me?”
He crosses his arms, leveling me with that intense stare. “You know why you’re here.”
“No, the fuck I don’t.” I wish he’d take off that damn mask so I could read him better.
“Seriously, why am I here? I haven’t done anything.
Unless you’re in the business of kidnapping innocent women, you have me confused with someone else.
” I clench my teeth at the little voice in my head calling me a liar. You aren’t innocent Fallon.
His shoulders tense and then he moves, stepping into me so that I have to backtrack to keep the distance between us, but the back of my knees hit the bed and I fall on my ass, still clinging to the lamp.
He leans down so that his face is inches from mine, and there’s a moment, however brief, that I think I see regret swim through the dark pools of his eyes. But the harsh, almost angry tone of his voice makes that thought vanish.
“We know exactly who you are, Fallon Helix. You’re right where you belong.” He straightens and stalks back toward the door. “There’s water on your nightstand. Drink it.”
Panic punches through me. “Wait! You can’t just leave me here.”
“Don’t worry.” He waves to a camera above the door frame, and a second later a mechanical jolt sounds, unlocking and opening the door a crack. “We’ve got eyes on you, Siren.” The guy looks over his shoulder at me. “I know how much you like to put on a show.”
Did he just…?
He winks and slips silently from the room, shutting the door behind him.
A scream tears from my throat as hot rage and embarrassment hit me like a freight train. I don’t recall letting the lamp go, but the next thing I know, it’s shattered to pieces right where the creepy fuck had been standing.
This isn’t happening.
I sprint to the door but there’s literally no door knob for me to use to even attempt to get out of here. My fists bang against the heavy metal. “Let me out of here, you motherfuckers! I didn’t do anything wrong!”
Of course, there’s no answer. I step back and flip off the camera.
I’m not going to let myself think about why they want me here.
As far as I know, there haven’t been reports of people going missing because of Cerberus.
Their targets are either publicly humiliated with their incriminating videos or they’re found with the hard evidence attached to their dead bodies.
Never kidnapped. Which means they more than likely want me dead.
Well, I’m not going down without giving them hell right back.
Fuming, I rush to one of the chairs in the corner of the room, pick it up, and start swinging.