Chapter Text
He took you from the parking lot. It was your own fault, you thought. You knew how dangerous it was to shop at night, to walk past vans, and to not check the backseat before getting in. No, you corrected. This wasn’t your fault. It was the bastard who took you that should be blamed. To him you were a twisted prize, tied up decoratively in the basement of his home.
You’d been calm for most of it, trying to remember the things you learned about people like him. Agree to his demands, stroke his ego until he trusted you, take the first opportunity to escape. But the moment you heard his boots slamming against the wooden stairs, your confidence wavered. You could hear the keys in his hands clattering as he tossed them while whistling some light hearted tune.
He didn’t pay you any mind. He walked past you straight over towards the workbench where a radio and toolchest were placed neatly. His whistling finally ended but it was replaced casually by the instruments on the radio, the mellow singing of cellos and violins. He opened the toolchest and gazed over the different items, fingertips brushing over them as if they were his children.
He turned around and eyed you appreciatively. The corner of his mouth rose in delight to what he saw. He moved across the room and grabbed a clean piece of clear plastic, large enough to spread out across the floor.
You held back the whimper when you realized it was to keep the floor clean. You pressed your spine harder against the unfinished wall at the base of the stairs. “Why are you doing this?”
He glanced at you, not at all surprised by the question. He stood up and turned around, focusing himself on his work. He gently twisted the dial on the radio, filling the basement with a deafening amount of noise. He began removing the tools, eyeing each one with delicate scrutiny.
Another was coming down the steps. You felt it rather than heard it. Each step was like a heartbeat in your chest, pushing you ever closer to the grave. Your rolled your eyes up the unfinished wall, his shoes passing over head. Your eyes widened at the sight of the gun, your body curling deeper into the shadows under the steps.
He didn’t see you. His eyes were locked on the other man, gun rising to take aim at the back of his skull. Your hands clamped over your mouth just as the thunderous shot went off. The other man slumped forward, sliding down the workbench to the floor below. He stepped over towards the radio and turned it off before kneeling next to the cooling corpse and checking for a pulse.
He pushed back his hood and ruffled fingers through the short tufts of his hair. He must have sensed you, caught sight of you in his peripheral, because he jolted to his feet and the gun was aimed once more.
“Wait! Please!” You lifted pleading palms, trembling with desperation.
He held the gun firmly in place, his aim remaining as determined as his expression. But he didn’t pull the trigger and eventually the barrel lowered. “No one else was supposed to be here.”
You didn’t move, hands still held up in surrender despite how sore and tired your arms were. “Please, let me go. I won’t tell anyone about this. He kidnapped me. I don’t care that you killed him.”
His eyes rolled down to the gun in hand as if he were weighing his options. “You’ve seen my face. I can’t let you leave.”
Your head hung low, clasped hands pressed to your skull as if you were praying but you knew clearly that he alone held your life. “I’ll do whatever you want. Just… I don’t want to die.”
He holstered the gun and sauntered forward, eyes roving across you like a predator sizing up his prey. He knelt down in front of you and held his gaze with yours for a moment longer. Finally, he turned his efforts towards removing the ropes around your wrists, pulling the knot free until you were no longer bound.
You whispered, fearful to speak and fearful more of what his answer would be, “What are you going to do with me?”
“I haven’t decided yet.” His hands encased your elbows and pulled you up onto your feet. “I’ll let the others make a decision.”
“Others?” Your attention whipped around as if they might make an appearance.
“I belong to an order of…” He stepped away and moved towards the base of the steps, not at all eager to talk about the specifics of what he did for a living.
“Hitmen?” You bit the corner of your lip, sinking your tooth into it.
He didn’t bother nodding or even making a true reply. He gave you a brief glance before climbing the steps. “We should leave the area before someone sees us. I can’t afford for anyone to recognize me.”
You tried to calm your breathing, to ignore the pounding in your ears, but you couldn’t stop yourself from looking over at the corpse of the man who boldly taken you. These hitmen, whoever they were and whatever they did, couldn’t be all that terrible if they stopped people like that. He saved your life, hadn’t he?
You slipped your eyes closed. What choice did you have?