Page 6 of Killian's Vengeance

“I’d let you piss yourself, but I don’t want to have to clean that shit up,” he said, his cold, displeased expression practically making me wet myself before I made it to the bathroom.

I slowly rose up, stretching my sore, tight muscles. It was partly to stall for time, and partly due to genuine stiffness. How long had I been lying here?

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and gingerly put my feet on the ground. I rose slowly, as if testing my legs and their ability to hold my weight, acting as if I hadn’t walked in years instead of hours.

I heard an annoyed breath before a strong hand gripped my upper arm pull me fully to my feet. “Jesus Christ, you can walk.”

Well, that charade was over. He dragged me to the door that was presumably the bathroom and swung it open. It was a pretty basic bathroom—toilet, sink, and shower stall. It had little touches that made it a little less generic. An empty, wooden towel bar, a little rug in front of the toilet, a bathmat.

“Go,” he instructed, gesturing to the toilet.

I moved forward, hooking my fingers around the door to swing it closed, but was blocked by his hand shooting out to stop the door’s momentum. “No, keep it open.”

My jaw dropped and if it weren't for my demanding bladder, I wasn’t sure how long I would have stood there gawping at him. “What? You mean go to the bathroom with you just…standing there?” I asked in horror.

He snorted. “That’s exactly what I mean. You think I trust you to be out of my sight? No fucking way.”

I looked around the windowless room. “What am I going to do? Flush myself down the toilet?” I snapped, but when he took a menacing step toward me, I held up my hands. “Fine, I’m going.”

I blushed to the roots of my hair, a grimace of distress causing my lips to tighten. Could I do this? Pee in front of a stranger? My bladder answered with an enthusiastic hell yes for me. “Can you…Can you at least turn around?” My thighs were starting to press together as the urgency mounted. I was standing right next to a toilet, but the thought of him standing there watching me had me cringing.

He let out another annoyed sigh but did a three-quarter turn. “I’m giving you three minutes. Just so you know, I can still see you out of the corner of my eye, so don’t even fucking think of trying something.”

I hastily pulled down my shorts and planted myself on the toilet, urine rushing out of me in a desperate stream as I tried to contain my mounting humiliation. I wiped myself and stood up as quickly as possible. While washing my hands, I caught my reflection and nearly gasped at what I saw.

My hair looked like I'd been electrocuted, with blonde tangles standing a couple of inches off my head. I also had a dark bruise on my cheek bone just under my right eye from the back hand he’d given me back at Lily’s apartment. It was a stark reminder of the violence he was capable of when provoked.

“Thirty seconds.”

I quickly washed my hands and rinsed my mouth. I looked around for a hand towel and found nothing, opting to wipe my wet hands on my shorts. Oh, god, now that my need to use the bathroom was taken care of, I had no idea what I was going to say. Why didn’t I do some strategizing while I was on the toilet? I’d wasted all my time sitting there being embarrassed.

Dammit.

“Let’s go.” He roughly grabbed my arm and marched me back to the bed, forcing me to sit. He took a step back and stared at me with the same forbidding expression. “Speak.”

I took a deep breath, once again stalling, but also hoping to calm myself the hell down. I rubbed my hands on my thighs in a self-soothing gesture. “Okay, so you are looking for information about my accomplice and what your friend may have found out about our operation, or whatever misdeeds we might have been up to prior to his death, correct?” I asked, employing that old tactic I used in school with essays. Incorporating the question into the response to make it sound like you were saying more than you were. I don't think it worked then, and I doubted it would now.

His eyebrows once again slammed together and grabbed me by the throat, his hand tightening aggressively. “Are you fucking with me? You’re speaking like you don’t know what I’m talking about and I know damn well you do. Quit fucking stalling and start talking or you are going to be in a world of hurt, I promise you,” he threatened, releasing his grip on my throat.

I believed him. Maybe if I made up a name, that would pacify him, and I would get some time to think of how to get out of here. If I had just thirty minutes to regroup and think without distraction, maybe I could figure a way out of this mess.

“His name is…” My eyes widened and my hands started to sweat. I was blanking. I couldn’t think of anything. “His name is John.” John? Oh my god, I was so stupid.

My captor gave me a deadpan look. “His name is John? You’re a fucking terrible liar, which is a surprise considering how you make your money. This is your last chance.” He took a menacing step toward me, looking prepared to commit god knows how many atrocities on my poor body.

“You’re right. I was lying. I was trying to cover. His name is Daniel.”

His lips compressed in irritation. “Daniel who?”

“Daniel Zuko…wsky.” I’d just watched Grease with Vanessa last night and it was the only name I could think of. I think I had brain damage from the hit to the face or the drugs, because everything I was saying was insane. This guy wanted to kill me—well, kill Lily—and my brain was completely short circuiting.

He tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling, no doubt aggravated at another obvious lie. Instead of arguing with me, he grabbed me and dragged me to this X-shaped apparatus.

I hardly resisted because he moved so quickly. I barely knew what was happening. Before I could think, I was once again restrained, the front of my body strapped to this X thing, my arms above my head. Adrenaline started to pour through my system, as I considered all the terrible things that might happen to me in this vulnerable position.

There was a tug on the back of my shirt and cold metal skated up my spine as I heard scissors cut the fabric of my tank top. He snipped at the straps and threw the shirt on the ground. I didn’t even have a bra because I was wearing one of those tank tops that had it built in. I was now topless.

Oh god, oh god, oh god, this was bad. Nothing positive could come of him disrobing me.

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