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She was still in the uniform for her prestigious private school. It was the standard sort of uniform. A white buttoned blouse with tie, a cardigan with an embroidered crest, plaid skirt, knee socks and sensible black shoes. However, there had been some recent additions to her attire - namely a blindfold and the ziptie around her wrists.
It had seemed like a normal day for the heiress. She was taking her usual route to school, book in hand like always, when suddenly a bag was thrown over her head and strong arms gripped her from behind. It was so quick, she didn’t even have time to scream. By the time she realized what was happening, it was too late. By her best guess, she was stuffed in some sort of trunk, but the music on the radio was too loud to make out anything her captors might have said.
Panic began to rise in her chest as the reality of the situation sunk in. She had been kidnapped.
She remembered getting a lecture from her father’s head of security when she’d been a young girl on what to do if that ever happened. But try as she might, she couldn’t remember the details. Even knowing her father was one of the business elite and the extent of their family wealth, it had always seemed like such a far fetched possibility. Her life had been so simple and blessed. Perhaps it had made her a little naive to believe she would never be targeted simply for being her father’s daughter. Her fear paralyzed her as her breaths turned rapid and shallow. What was she going to do? What were they going to do to her?
Surely her father would do whatever they asked to save her, wouldn’t he? Of course he would. He loved her more than he cared about his money, surely. Then again, he had always been a workaholic who spent far more time on his business than on his child. No, she wouldn’t allow her fear to make her doubt him. He might be busy, but he loved her. He worked so hard so that she would have the best opportunities. He would keep her safe. She just had to be patient.
She wasn’t sure where she was now. Standing at barely five feet tall and having a quite petite frame, it wasn’t hard to carry her around which is exactly what happened after she stumbled to her feet. She had been put into a hard chair, but left alone in the silence. But her own mind was running fast enough to fill it. What could she do? She was far too small and weak to break free and she was afraid to risk angering her kidnappers if she were caught.
Suddenly she heard a door open. “H-hello?” she called out softly, hating the way her voice quivered. “Is someone there? I promise, I won’t be any trouble. I swear I’ll cooperate.”
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Essa was shaking with fear.
She was still in the uniform for her prestigious private school. It was the standard sort of uniform. A white buttoned blouse with tie, a cardigan with an embroidered crest, plaid skirt, knee socks and sensible black shoes. However, there had been some recent additions to her attire - namely a blindfold and the ziptie around her wrists.
It had seemed like a normal day for the heiress. She was taking her usual route to school, book in hand like always, when suddenly a bag was thrown over her head and strong arms gripped her from behind. It was so quick, she didn’t even have time to scream. By the time she realized what was happening, it was too late. By her best guess, she was stuffed in some sort of trunk, but the music on the radio was too loud to make out anything her captors might have said.
Panic began to rise in her chest as the reality of the situation sunk in. She had been kidnapped.
She remembered getting a lecture from her father’s head of security when she’d been a young girl on what to do if that ever happened. But try as she might, she couldn’t remember the details. Even knowing her father was one of the business elite and the extent of their family wealth, it had always seemed like such a far fetched possibility. Her life had been so simple and blessed. Perhaps it had made her a little naive to believe she would never be targeted simply for being her father’s daughter. Her fear paralyzed her as her breaths turned rapid and shallow. What was she going to do? What were they going to do to her?
Surely her father would do whatever they asked to save her, wouldn’t he? Of course he would. He loved her more than he cared about his money, surely. Then again, he had always been a workaholic who spent far more time on his business than on his child. No, she wouldn’t allow her fear to make her doubt him. He might be busy, but he loved her. He worked so hard so that she would have the best opportunities. He would keep her safe. She just had to be patient.
She wasn’t sure where she was now. Standing at barely five feet tall and having a quite petite frame, it wasn’t hard to carry her around which is exactly what happened after she stumbled to her feet. She had been put into a hard chair, but left alone in the silence. But her own mind was running fast enough to fill it. What could she do? She was far too small and weak to break free and she was afraid to risk angering her kidnappers if she were caught.
Suddenly she heard a door open. “H-hello?” she called out softly, hating the way her voice quivered. “Is someone there? I promise, I won’t be any trouble. I swear I’ll cooperate.”
Essa was shaking with fear.
She was still in the uniform for her prestigious private school. It was the standard sort of uniform. A white buttoned blouse with tie, a cardigan with an embroidered crest, plaid skirt, knee socks and sensible black shoes. However, there had been some recent additions to her attire - namely a blindfold and the ziptie around her wrists.
It had seemed like a normal day for the heiress. She was taking her usual route to school, book in hand like always, when suddenly a bag was thrown over her head and strong arms gripped her from behind. It was so quick, she didn’t even have time to scream. By the time she realized what was happening, it was too late. By her best guess, she was stuffed in some sort of trunk, but the music on the radio was too loud to make out anything her captors might have said.
Panic began to rise in her chest as the reality of the situation sunk in. She had been kidnapped.
She remembered getting a lecture from her father’s head of security when she’d been a young girl on what to do if that ever happened. But try as she might, she couldn’t remember the details. Even knowing her father was one of the business elite and the extent of their family wealth, it had always seemed like such a far fetched possibility. Her life had been so simple and blessed. Perhaps it had made her a little naive to believe she would never be targeted simply for being her father’s daughter. Her fear paralyzed her as her breaths turned rapid and shallow. What was she going to do? What were they going to do to her?
Surely her father would do whatever they asked to save her, wouldn’t he? Of course he would. He loved her more than he cared about his money, surely. Then again, he had always been a workaholic who spent far more time on his business than on his child. No, she wouldn’t allow her fear to make her doubt him. He might be busy, but he loved her. He worked so hard so that she would have the best opportunities. He would keep her safe. She just had to be patient.
She wasn’t sure where she was now. Standing at barely five feet tall and having a quite petite frame, it wasn’t hard to carry her around which is exactly what happened after she stumbled to her feet. She had been put into a hard chair, but left alone in the silence. But her own mind was running fast enough to fill it. What could she do? She was far too small and weak to break free and she was afraid to risk angering her kidnappers if she were caught.
Suddenly she heard a door open. “H-hello?” she called out softly, hating the way her voice quivered. “Is someone there? I promise, I won’t be any trouble. I swear I’ll cooperate.”
Kyros filed into the room behind his boss and the man's personal guard. He wasn't sure why he was here for this - he was usually the one that was sent out to intimidate certain people of the city into paying up the money they owed to the organization for the protection they provided. He was rather good at his job, enjoyed the up-close and personal methods he could employ when they tried to weasel out of doing what they were told. The smell of fear had always given him a rush that he could only describe as... pleasurable.
Today, he had been pulled from his usual rounds and asked to join the don for a 'special meeting.' No one said 'no' to Mr. Moretti. Kyros hung back by the door, leaning casually on the wall with one ankle crossed over the other. To anyone that didn't know him, he would look relxed and unconcerned with the happenings in the room. But make no mistake, he could jump to action in an instant and have a knife to your jugular before you could think fast enough to react. His grey eyes narrowed on the hooded figure tied to a chair in the middle of the room. Small, petite, obliviously a woman. He voice only confirmed that. The two burly guards took up positions, one on opposite side of the door as Kyros, the other behind the girl. Mr. Moretti sat in the only other chair in the room, facing the captive. With a simple nod from the boss, the man behind the prisoner lifted a hand and none too kindly ripped the black hood from her head.
"Hello, Essa Drakos. I apologize for the way we are meeting, but it was... unavoidable. I need something from your father. He has been... refusing to respond in a timely manner. So until he does, you are my guest." Mr. Moretti spoke calmly, friendly even. That was always his way - it was hard not to like the man when he spoke. The men in his employ were loyal, many loved him and looked to him like a father. Including Kyros, who had been taken in by the man when he was just a scrawny young teen. He'd run off from his fifth foster home in as many years. Kyros had been stealing food to eat and living in alleyways in the Bronx. Mr. Moretti gave him a home, someplace he felt safe for the first time in years. He'd taught Kyros how to fight. Provided tutors. Ky owed everything he was to the Italian mob boss.
Kyros looked from the girl, Essa, to the don and back again. It wasn't like kidnapping hadn't been used as a successful tactic in the past, but Kyros had never been privy to such dealings before. Why had Mr. Moretti asked him to come here this morning? He shifted his weight to the leg he'd crossed over the other before, and now crossed the newly freeded up leg. He crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze flicking between the four other people in the room besides himself. Who was this girl that would make it worthwhile to take her hostage?
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Kyros filed into the room behind his boss and the man's personal guard. He wasn't sure why he was here for this - he was usually the one that was sent out to intimidate certain people of the city into paying up the money they owed to the organization for the protection they provided. He was rather good at his job, enjoyed the up-close and personal methods he could employ when they tried to weasel out of doing what they were told. The smell of fear had always given him a rush that he could only describe as... pleasurable.
Today, he had been pulled from his usual rounds and asked to join the don for a 'special meeting.' No one said 'no' to Mr. Moretti. Kyros hung back by the door, leaning casually on the wall with one ankle crossed over the other. To anyone that didn't know him, he would look relxed and unconcerned with the happenings in the room. But make no mistake, he could jump to action in an instant and have a knife to your jugular before you could think fast enough to react. His grey eyes narrowed on the hooded figure tied to a chair in the middle of the room. Small, petite, obliviously a woman. He voice only confirmed that. The two burly guards took up positions, one on opposite side of the door as Kyros, the other behind the girl. Mr. Moretti sat in the only other chair in the room, facing the captive. With a simple nod from the boss, the man behind the prisoner lifted a hand and none too kindly ripped the black hood from her head.
"Hello, Essa Drakos. I apologize for the way we are meeting, but it was... unavoidable. I need something from your father. He has been... refusing to respond in a timely manner. So until he does, you are my guest." Mr. Moretti spoke calmly, friendly even. That was always his way - it was hard not to like the man when he spoke. The men in his employ were loyal, many loved him and looked to him like a father. Including Kyros, who had been taken in by the man when he was just a scrawny young teen. He'd run off from his fifth foster home in as many years. Kyros had been stealing food to eat and living in alleyways in the Bronx. Mr. Moretti gave him a home, someplace he felt safe for the first time in years. He'd taught Kyros how to fight. Provided tutors. Ky owed everything he was to the Italian mob boss.
Kyros looked from the girl, Essa, to the don and back again. It wasn't like kidnapping hadn't been used as a successful tactic in the past, but Kyros had never been privy to such dealings before. Why had Mr. Moretti asked him to come here this morning? He shifted his weight to the leg he'd crossed over the other before, and now crossed the newly freeded up leg. He crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze flicking between the four other people in the room besides himself. Who was this girl that would make it worthwhile to take her hostage?
Kyros filed into the room behind his boss and the man's personal guard. He wasn't sure why he was here for this - he was usually the one that was sent out to intimidate certain people of the city into paying up the money they owed to the organization for the protection they provided. He was rather good at his job, enjoyed the up-close and personal methods he could employ when they tried to weasel out of doing what they were told. The smell of fear had always given him a rush that he could only describe as... pleasurable.
Today, he had been pulled from his usual rounds and asked to join the don for a 'special meeting.' No one said 'no' to Mr. Moretti. Kyros hung back by the door, leaning casually on the wall with one ankle crossed over the other. To anyone that didn't know him, he would look relxed and unconcerned with the happenings in the room. But make no mistake, he could jump to action in an instant and have a knife to your jugular before you could think fast enough to react. His grey eyes narrowed on the hooded figure tied to a chair in the middle of the room. Small, petite, obliviously a woman. He voice only confirmed that. The two burly guards took up positions, one on opposite side of the door as Kyros, the other behind the girl. Mr. Moretti sat in the only other chair in the room, facing the captive. With a simple nod from the boss, the man behind the prisoner lifted a hand and none too kindly ripped the black hood from her head.
"Hello, Essa Drakos. I apologize for the way we are meeting, but it was... unavoidable. I need something from your father. He has been... refusing to respond in a timely manner. So until he does, you are my guest." Mr. Moretti spoke calmly, friendly even. That was always his way - it was hard not to like the man when he spoke. The men in his employ were loyal, many loved him and looked to him like a father. Including Kyros, who had been taken in by the man when he was just a scrawny young teen. He'd run off from his fifth foster home in as many years. Kyros had been stealing food to eat and living in alleyways in the Bronx. Mr. Moretti gave him a home, someplace he felt safe for the first time in years. He'd taught Kyros how to fight. Provided tutors. Ky owed everything he was to the Italian mob boss.
Kyros looked from the girl, Essa, to the don and back again. It wasn't like kidnapping hadn't been used as a successful tactic in the past, but Kyros had never been privy to such dealings before. Why had Mr. Moretti asked him to come here this morning? He shifted his weight to the leg he'd crossed over the other before, and now crossed the newly freeded up leg. He crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze flicking between the four other people in the room besides himself. Who was this girl that would make it worthwhile to take her hostage?
Her heart started racing as she heard not one, but several sets of footsteps enter the room. Oh god, what were they going to do to her? She didn’t dare think of the possibilities. What if they cut off her finger? Or an ear? She’d seen that done in far too many shows and movies and books. Evidence they truly had her for her father. She was sure he’d demand as much. While he would absolutely pay whatever it took for her safety - at least, she thought so - he wouldn’t simply take someone’s word for it. He’d require some sort of sign that they had her.
Oh god, what was she going to do?
Suddenly the hood was ripped from her head, some of her hair yanked with it, making her hiss slightly in pain. The shift in dark to light had her struggling to open her eyes at all as they watered. After a few moments, she was able to blink enough to squint at the man seated before her.
He had a manner about him that seemed almost truly remorseful. Yet she knew better than to believe himself the soft man he presented as. After all, he had taken her captive! That simply wasn’t done by upstanding citizens. She certainly didn’t have to feign her fear - it was obvious in the way she trembled before the men.
Her gaze shifted to the two by the door. One she could easily recognize as a guard. There was a specific type who worked security, and her father had employed many such individuals over the years. Once you got below the exterior, there were differences to be found - some were truly tough all the way through while others were just giant teddy bears. Essa had a habit of befriending her family’s staff. She spent more time with them than her supposed peers after all.
The second man though, he had a different look to him. The way his eyes moved from individual to individual had a questioning to the movement. His height was impressive - though, most people were considered tall compared to her own stature. Honestly, if she had seen him anywhere else, he was exactly the sort of handsome man she would be more than content to daydream about. She wanted to find romance to fill the loneliness of her life but had long ago stop trying. Her father always managed to scare anyone who had ever shown her interest off. So she was forced to be content with daydream crushes and fictional heroes.
There was something about him though. He was every bit as intimidating as the guards, yet there was something different about him that she couldn’t quite put a finger on.
Suddenly, she startled as she realized she had been silent way too long. “I understand,” she said finally, her eyes returning to the man before her. Perhaps another girl in her place would be throwing insults and threats around, but Essa didn’t dare. It had taken forever to convince her father to allow her to go to school without a bodyguard and if she survived this, she knew she would never have that freedom again. Not that anyone would have looked at her anyway.
“Please,” she said, leaning forward, her bound wrists straining behind her. The sudden movement was not appreciated as the guard behind her roughly pulled her back by the shoulders and the other visibly tensed, prepared to spring into action. “I’m sorry, I swear, I’ll do whatever you ask. I’ll cooperate. Just, please, please don’t hurt me.”
Ashamed as she was of the tears that flooded her eyes, she couldn’t fight them back. Not with the reminder that she could be dead in an instant.
Were they going to keep her here, in this empty room? Would her wrists stay bound? She could already feel the plastic of the ziptie biting into the soft flesh of her wrist, leaving angry red marks behind. Her shoulders were beginning to ache from the forced positioning as well.
“What’s going to happen to me?” she asked softly, almost afraid to meet his eyes. “While I’m your... guest, I mean.”
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Her heart started racing as she heard not one, but several sets of footsteps enter the room. Oh god, what were they going to do to her? She didn’t dare think of the possibilities. What if they cut off her finger? Or an ear? She’d seen that done in far too many shows and movies and books. Evidence they truly had her for her father. She was sure he’d demand as much. While he would absolutely pay whatever it took for her safety - at least, she thought so - he wouldn’t simply take someone’s word for it. He’d require some sort of sign that they had her.
Oh god, what was she going to do?
Suddenly the hood was ripped from her head, some of her hair yanked with it, making her hiss slightly in pain. The shift in dark to light had her struggling to open her eyes at all as they watered. After a few moments, she was able to blink enough to squint at the man seated before her.
He had a manner about him that seemed almost truly remorseful. Yet she knew better than to believe himself the soft man he presented as. After all, he had taken her captive! That simply wasn’t done by upstanding citizens. She certainly didn’t have to feign her fear - it was obvious in the way she trembled before the men.
Her gaze shifted to the two by the door. One she could easily recognize as a guard. There was a specific type who worked security, and her father had employed many such individuals over the years. Once you got below the exterior, there were differences to be found - some were truly tough all the way through while others were just giant teddy bears. Essa had a habit of befriending her family’s staff. She spent more time with them than her supposed peers after all.
The second man though, he had a different look to him. The way his eyes moved from individual to individual had a questioning to the movement. His height was impressive - though, most people were considered tall compared to her own stature. Honestly, if she had seen him anywhere else, he was exactly the sort of handsome man she would be more than content to daydream about. She wanted to find romance to fill the loneliness of her life but had long ago stop trying. Her father always managed to scare anyone who had ever shown her interest off. So she was forced to be content with daydream crushes and fictional heroes.
There was something about him though. He was every bit as intimidating as the guards, yet there was something different about him that she couldn’t quite put a finger on.
Suddenly, she startled as she realized she had been silent way too long. “I understand,” she said finally, her eyes returning to the man before her. Perhaps another girl in her place would be throwing insults and threats around, but Essa didn’t dare. It had taken forever to convince her father to allow her to go to school without a bodyguard and if she survived this, she knew she would never have that freedom again. Not that anyone would have looked at her anyway.
“Please,” she said, leaning forward, her bound wrists straining behind her. The sudden movement was not appreciated as the guard behind her roughly pulled her back by the shoulders and the other visibly tensed, prepared to spring into action. “I’m sorry, I swear, I’ll do whatever you ask. I’ll cooperate. Just, please, please don’t hurt me.”
Ashamed as she was of the tears that flooded her eyes, she couldn’t fight them back. Not with the reminder that she could be dead in an instant.
Were they going to keep her here, in this empty room? Would her wrists stay bound? She could already feel the plastic of the ziptie biting into the soft flesh of her wrist, leaving angry red marks behind. Her shoulders were beginning to ache from the forced positioning as well.
“What’s going to happen to me?” she asked softly, almost afraid to meet his eyes. “While I’m your... guest, I mean.”
Her heart started racing as she heard not one, but several sets of footsteps enter the room. Oh god, what were they going to do to her? She didn’t dare think of the possibilities. What if they cut off her finger? Or an ear? She’d seen that done in far too many shows and movies and books. Evidence they truly had her for her father. She was sure he’d demand as much. While he would absolutely pay whatever it took for her safety - at least, she thought so - he wouldn’t simply take someone’s word for it. He’d require some sort of sign that they had her.
Oh god, what was she going to do?
Suddenly the hood was ripped from her head, some of her hair yanked with it, making her hiss slightly in pain. The shift in dark to light had her struggling to open her eyes at all as they watered. After a few moments, she was able to blink enough to squint at the man seated before her.
He had a manner about him that seemed almost truly remorseful. Yet she knew better than to believe himself the soft man he presented as. After all, he had taken her captive! That simply wasn’t done by upstanding citizens. She certainly didn’t have to feign her fear - it was obvious in the way she trembled before the men.
Her gaze shifted to the two by the door. One she could easily recognize as a guard. There was a specific type who worked security, and her father had employed many such individuals over the years. Once you got below the exterior, there were differences to be found - some were truly tough all the way through while others were just giant teddy bears. Essa had a habit of befriending her family’s staff. She spent more time with them than her supposed peers after all.
The second man though, he had a different look to him. The way his eyes moved from individual to individual had a questioning to the movement. His height was impressive - though, most people were considered tall compared to her own stature. Honestly, if she had seen him anywhere else, he was exactly the sort of handsome man she would be more than content to daydream about. She wanted to find romance to fill the loneliness of her life but had long ago stop trying. Her father always managed to scare anyone who had ever shown her interest off. So she was forced to be content with daydream crushes and fictional heroes.
There was something about him though. He was every bit as intimidating as the guards, yet there was something different about him that she couldn’t quite put a finger on.
Suddenly, she startled as she realized she had been silent way too long. “I understand,” she said finally, her eyes returning to the man before her. Perhaps another girl in her place would be throwing insults and threats around, but Essa didn’t dare. It had taken forever to convince her father to allow her to go to school without a bodyguard and if she survived this, she knew she would never have that freedom again. Not that anyone would have looked at her anyway.
“Please,” she said, leaning forward, her bound wrists straining behind her. The sudden movement was not appreciated as the guard behind her roughly pulled her back by the shoulders and the other visibly tensed, prepared to spring into action. “I’m sorry, I swear, I’ll do whatever you ask. I’ll cooperate. Just, please, please don’t hurt me.”
Ashamed as she was of the tears that flooded her eyes, she couldn’t fight them back. Not with the reminder that she could be dead in an instant.
Were they going to keep her here, in this empty room? Would her wrists stay bound? She could already feel the plastic of the ziptie biting into the soft flesh of her wrist, leaving angry red marks behind. Her shoulders were beginning to ache from the forced positioning as well.
“What’s going to happen to me?” she asked softly, almost afraid to meet his eyes. “While I’m your... guest, I mean.”
Mr. Moretti pulled his cell phone out of his suit coat pocket. ”I appreciate that, Miss Drakos. Truly. I’ll not bring permanent harm to you, child. As long as your father follows through with his end of the bargain.” He said reassuringly, confident that his scare tactic will work on the businessman. ”Say cheese, for Mr. Drakos now, dear.” He held up the phone at the same time the guard behind her swung that morning’s paper around her front, holding it under her chin. The don took the photo and the paper was removed just as quickly as it’d appeared.
'What’s going to happen to me? While I’m your...guest, I mean?'
The mob boss put the phone away, lifting a hand and calmly curling a finger in a come here motion. Kyros pushed off the wall and sauntered over. His movements fluid and in perfect harmony with each other. He came forward to stand at the don’s right shoulder. “That is where Kyros here comes in. He will be your personal guard during your stay with us.” The man stood up from his seat and turned for the door as he straightened his suit, brushing away a few wrinkles. “She’s all yours, son. If she gives you any trouble at all, do what you have to do, as long as whatever it is will heal. She is not to leave the compound until I say.” With that, Mr. Moretti left the room, the two guards trailing close behind. The door shut with a resounding thud.
Kyros licked his lower lip and narrowed his eyes dangerously on the girl. Babysitting. He was being pulled from his job to babysit some snot nosed rich bitch. A tic started in his jaw. This was just great. He pulled a knife from the sheath on his wrist - it’d been hidden by the sleeve of his leather jacket. He stepped closer to the girl, twirling the blade in his hand.
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Mr. Moretti pulled his cell phone out of his suit coat pocket. ”I appreciate that, Miss Drakos. Truly. I’ll not bring permanent harm to you, child. As long as your father follows through with his end of the bargain.” He said reassuringly, confident that his scare tactic will work on the businessman. ”Say cheese, for Mr. Drakos now, dear.” He held up the phone at the same time the guard behind her swung that morning’s paper around her front, holding it under her chin. The don took the photo and the paper was removed just as quickly as it’d appeared.
'What’s going to happen to me? While I’m your...guest, I mean?'
The mob boss put the phone away, lifting a hand and calmly curling a finger in a come here motion. Kyros pushed off the wall and sauntered over. His movements fluid and in perfect harmony with each other. He came forward to stand at the don’s right shoulder. “That is where Kyros here comes in. He will be your personal guard during your stay with us.” The man stood up from his seat and turned for the door as he straightened his suit, brushing away a few wrinkles. “She’s all yours, son. If she gives you any trouble at all, do what you have to do, as long as whatever it is will heal. She is not to leave the compound until I say.” With that, Mr. Moretti left the room, the two guards trailing close behind. The door shut with a resounding thud.
Kyros licked his lower lip and narrowed his eyes dangerously on the girl. Babysitting. He was being pulled from his job to babysit some snot nosed rich bitch. A tic started in his jaw. This was just great. He pulled a knife from the sheath on his wrist - it’d been hidden by the sleeve of his leather jacket. He stepped closer to the girl, twirling the blade in his hand.
Mr. Moretti pulled his cell phone out of his suit coat pocket. ”I appreciate that, Miss Drakos. Truly. I’ll not bring permanent harm to you, child. As long as your father follows through with his end of the bargain.” He said reassuringly, confident that his scare tactic will work on the businessman. ”Say cheese, for Mr. Drakos now, dear.” He held up the phone at the same time the guard behind her swung that morning’s paper around her front, holding it under her chin. The don took the photo and the paper was removed just as quickly as it’d appeared.
'What’s going to happen to me? While I’m your...guest, I mean?'
The mob boss put the phone away, lifting a hand and calmly curling a finger in a come here motion. Kyros pushed off the wall and sauntered over. His movements fluid and in perfect harmony with each other. He came forward to stand at the don’s right shoulder. “That is where Kyros here comes in. He will be your personal guard during your stay with us.” The man stood up from his seat and turned for the door as he straightened his suit, brushing away a few wrinkles. “She’s all yours, son. If she gives you any trouble at all, do what you have to do, as long as whatever it is will heal. She is not to leave the compound until I say.” With that, Mr. Moretti left the room, the two guards trailing close behind. The door shut with a resounding thud.
Kyros licked his lower lip and narrowed his eyes dangerously on the girl. Babysitting. He was being pulled from his job to babysit some snot nosed rich bitch. A tic started in his jaw. This was just great. He pulled a knife from the sheath on his wrist - it’d been hidden by the sleeve of his leather jacket. He stepped closer to the girl, twirling the blade in his hand.
The man’s words did little to comfort her. So many little word choices that gave him so much room to operate without breaking his word. Permanent damage. Implying anything temporary was on the table. And even then, only if her father did what he wanted. Hopefully that was only money. Protective as he was of it, he had plenty to spare. He had never minded spending it on her before. Surely doing so to save her life was even less bothersome.
Relief flooded her as she realized the proof he was after was merely a photo and not a piece of her. At least for now. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to smile, and she couldn’t have wiped away the tears that streaked her face even if she wanted to with her hands tied as they were.
Her eyes moved back to the younger man with surprise as he was beckoned forward. Kyros. It was an unusual name, and yet she found herself feeling almost relieved. Intimidating as he was, especially when his eyes narrowed as though he’d like nothing more than to be rid of her, there was a comfort in the company of someone nearer her age. Even if it was a small one.
There it was again, those commands were so specific, leaving so much open. As long as it will heal. All yours, son. She found herself praying he held some sort of honor, enough that he wouldn’t torture her needlessly or violate her merely because he could. Still, as he approached, she shrank back in her seat, all too aware of how alone they now were.
She jumped slightly as a knife suddenly appeared in his hand. As he approached closer, she couldn’t stop the tears that poured forth once more. “No, please, I won’t give you any trouble, I swear, please don’t...” Her eyes scrunched shut tightly as he entered her space, leaning over her and making her feel even smaller somehow.
Yet her pleas fell silent as she felt her arms go slack, her wrists released from their bondage. Her eyes slowly opened, looking up at him as he stood over her, almost afraid to move.
“Thank you,” she whispered, grateful but still unnerved by all that was happening. Her hands encircled her wrists, rubbing the tender skin there soothingly, almost unable to believe she was truly free. It was only then that she dared ask the question she had been wondering all along, believing someone kind enough to free her hands would at least tell her the truth.
“Is he going to kill me if my father doesn’t give him what he’s asking for?”
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The man’s words did little to comfort her. So many little word choices that gave him so much room to operate without breaking his word. Permanent damage. Implying anything temporary was on the table. And even then, only if her father did what he wanted. Hopefully that was only money. Protective as he was of it, he had plenty to spare. He had never minded spending it on her before. Surely doing so to save her life was even less bothersome.
Relief flooded her as she realized the proof he was after was merely a photo and not a piece of her. At least for now. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to smile, and she couldn’t have wiped away the tears that streaked her face even if she wanted to with her hands tied as they were.
Her eyes moved back to the younger man with surprise as he was beckoned forward. Kyros. It was an unusual name, and yet she found herself feeling almost relieved. Intimidating as he was, especially when his eyes narrowed as though he’d like nothing more than to be rid of her, there was a comfort in the company of someone nearer her age. Even if it was a small one.
There it was again, those commands were so specific, leaving so much open. As long as it will heal. All yours, son. She found herself praying he held some sort of honor, enough that he wouldn’t torture her needlessly or violate her merely because he could. Still, as he approached, she shrank back in her seat, all too aware of how alone they now were.
She jumped slightly as a knife suddenly appeared in his hand. As he approached closer, she couldn’t stop the tears that poured forth once more. “No, please, I won’t give you any trouble, I swear, please don’t...” Her eyes scrunched shut tightly as he entered her space, leaning over her and making her feel even smaller somehow.
Yet her pleas fell silent as she felt her arms go slack, her wrists released from their bondage. Her eyes slowly opened, looking up at him as he stood over her, almost afraid to move.
“Thank you,” she whispered, grateful but still unnerved by all that was happening. Her hands encircled her wrists, rubbing the tender skin there soothingly, almost unable to believe she was truly free. It was only then that she dared ask the question she had been wondering all along, believing someone kind enough to free her hands would at least tell her the truth.
“Is he going to kill me if my father doesn’t give him what he’s asking for?”
The man’s words did little to comfort her. So many little word choices that gave him so much room to operate without breaking his word. Permanent damage. Implying anything temporary was on the table. And even then, only if her father did what he wanted. Hopefully that was only money. Protective as he was of it, he had plenty to spare. He had never minded spending it on her before. Surely doing so to save her life was even less bothersome.
Relief flooded her as she realized the proof he was after was merely a photo and not a piece of her. At least for now. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to smile, and she couldn’t have wiped away the tears that streaked her face even if she wanted to with her hands tied as they were.
Her eyes moved back to the younger man with surprise as he was beckoned forward. Kyros. It was an unusual name, and yet she found herself feeling almost relieved. Intimidating as he was, especially when his eyes narrowed as though he’d like nothing more than to be rid of her, there was a comfort in the company of someone nearer her age. Even if it was a small one.
There it was again, those commands were so specific, leaving so much open. As long as it will heal. All yours, son. She found herself praying he held some sort of honor, enough that he wouldn’t torture her needlessly or violate her merely because he could. Still, as he approached, she shrank back in her seat, all too aware of how alone they now were.
She jumped slightly as a knife suddenly appeared in his hand. As he approached closer, she couldn’t stop the tears that poured forth once more. “No, please, I won’t give you any trouble, I swear, please don’t...” Her eyes scrunched shut tightly as he entered her space, leaning over her and making her feel even smaller somehow.
Yet her pleas fell silent as she felt her arms go slack, her wrists released from their bondage. Her eyes slowly opened, looking up at him as he stood over her, almost afraid to move.
“Thank you,” she whispered, grateful but still unnerved by all that was happening. Her hands encircled her wrists, rubbing the tender skin there soothingly, almost unable to believe she was truly free. It was only then that she dared ask the question she had been wondering all along, believing someone kind enough to free her hands would at least tell her the truth.
“Is he going to kill me if my father doesn’t give him what he’s asking for?”
The expression on his face didn’t change as he’d cut her free, despite her pleas for him not to do what she thought he was going to. And his expression didn’t change when she thanked him for cutting her loose. He slipped the knife back into his sleeve, pulling the leather back into place so that the hilt was fully covered. He stepped back from her as she rubbed at her wrists, giving her a moment to compose herself. What the hell was he going to do with a useless, spoiled, girl?
My god, she sounded so damned naive. ‘Is he going to kill me…’ He couldn’t help it. He laughed, a deep and dark sounding laugh. A laugh that didn’t reach his hard grey eyes in the least. ”No, princess. Mr. Moretti won’t kill you.” He sobered nearly as quickly as he’d started laughing. He moved then, a quick fluid motion, one step that brought him back to her, one firm grip on her hair with his fist had her pulled up out of the chair, a flick of his wrist had that knife back out and pressed to her throat but did not cut the skin. “That pleasure will fall to me.”
Just as quickly, he released her again. Stepping back from her, but keeping the blade out this time. He let out an audible sigh and began pacing the small room. Babysitting. Fuck! Why would Moretti do this? He knew Kyros preferred the freedom of running the streets. The respect he was shown out there because people feared him. Why the fuck would the don relegate him to such trivial business as this?! His empty hand flexed in and out of a fist as he paced a few circuits around the room. At least he’d been given the freedom, it seemed, to do as he wished with her, as long as she didn’t leave the compound. The mansion was huge, with even larger yards and gardens inside the tall brick privacy fence built around the grounds. But even so, Kyros could already feel the sense of being pinned down creeping in on him. He needed to get out of this room. He sheathed the knife once more and turned for her again, grabbing at her upper arm none too kindly.
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The expression on his face didn’t change as he’d cut her free, despite her pleas for him not to do what she thought he was going to. And his expression didn’t change when she thanked him for cutting her loose. He slipped the knife back into his sleeve, pulling the leather back into place so that the hilt was fully covered. He stepped back from her as she rubbed at her wrists, giving her a moment to compose herself. What the hell was he going to do with a useless, spoiled, girl?
My god, she sounded so damned naive. ‘Is he going to kill me…’ He couldn’t help it. He laughed, a deep and dark sounding laugh. A laugh that didn’t reach his hard grey eyes in the least. ”No, princess. Mr. Moretti won’t kill you.” He sobered nearly as quickly as he’d started laughing. He moved then, a quick fluid motion, one step that brought him back to her, one firm grip on her hair with his fist had her pulled up out of the chair, a flick of his wrist had that knife back out and pressed to her throat but did not cut the skin. “That pleasure will fall to me.”
Just as quickly, he released her again. Stepping back from her, but keeping the blade out this time. He let out an audible sigh and began pacing the small room. Babysitting. Fuck! Why would Moretti do this? He knew Kyros preferred the freedom of running the streets. The respect he was shown out there because people feared him. Why the fuck would the don relegate him to such trivial business as this?! His empty hand flexed in and out of a fist as he paced a few circuits around the room. At least he’d been given the freedom, it seemed, to do as he wished with her, as long as she didn’t leave the compound. The mansion was huge, with even larger yards and gardens inside the tall brick privacy fence built around the grounds. But even so, Kyros could already feel the sense of being pinned down creeping in on him. He needed to get out of this room. He sheathed the knife once more and turned for her again, grabbing at her upper arm none too kindly.
The expression on his face didn’t change as he’d cut her free, despite her pleas for him not to do what she thought he was going to. And his expression didn’t change when she thanked him for cutting her loose. He slipped the knife back into his sleeve, pulling the leather back into place so that the hilt was fully covered. He stepped back from her as she rubbed at her wrists, giving her a moment to compose herself. What the hell was he going to do with a useless, spoiled, girl?
My god, she sounded so damned naive. ‘Is he going to kill me…’ He couldn’t help it. He laughed, a deep and dark sounding laugh. A laugh that didn’t reach his hard grey eyes in the least. ”No, princess. Mr. Moretti won’t kill you.” He sobered nearly as quickly as he’d started laughing. He moved then, a quick fluid motion, one step that brought him back to her, one firm grip on her hair with his fist had her pulled up out of the chair, a flick of his wrist had that knife back out and pressed to her throat but did not cut the skin. “That pleasure will fall to me.”
Just as quickly, he released her again. Stepping back from her, but keeping the blade out this time. He let out an audible sigh and began pacing the small room. Babysitting. Fuck! Why would Moretti do this? He knew Kyros preferred the freedom of running the streets. The respect he was shown out there because people feared him. Why the fuck would the don relegate him to such trivial business as this?! His empty hand flexed in and out of a fist as he paced a few circuits around the room. At least he’d been given the freedom, it seemed, to do as he wished with her, as long as she didn’t leave the compound. The mansion was huge, with even larger yards and gardens inside the tall brick privacy fence built around the grounds. But even so, Kyros could already feel the sense of being pinned down creeping in on him. He needed to get out of this room. He sheathed the knife once more and turned for her again, grabbing at her upper arm none too kindly.
His laugh caught her off guard as her head snapped up to look at him, confusion on her face. Was that because he found it ridiculous his employer could be so cruel or merely an indication he found it so obvious that her question struck him as funny. Somehow the words he said didn’t settle the dread that had been conjured deep within her stomach.
That was apparently quite wise of her for in the next instant, faster than she could blink, he had closed the distance between them entirely. She gasped as he pulled her up by the hair, the full foot of height difference between them had her standing on the tips of her toes as he pressed the knife to her throat in a threat. She could only stare at him wide eyed, realizing that he would do it too. He wouldn’t think twice about taking care of her if it was asked of him.
“Oh.”
Had he done it before? She guessed as much even as her hand lifted to her neck, the memory of the blade pressed there all too vivid. Unless it was all bravado, but somehow she didn’t believe that. What had happened to him to lead him down this path? After all, killers were made, not born typically. What had gone so wrong in his life to bring him to a point where killing meant nothing to him? Even if he was cruel, he wasn’t soulless.
Her eyes studied him as he released her, making her rock back on her heels, as he then moved to pace the room. He didn’t want to be here, that much was obvious. The way he looked at her, as though he knew her and hated her... But he knew nothing about her! Nothing that wasn’t written in some dossier about her father’s value at least. It was nothing new though. Between the press and her classmates, people pretended as though they knew her all the time. What was one more? ‘
Her mind quickly shifted back to the revelation that death was coming for her. “Please tell me they only want his money?” she whispered. If it was anything more than that, anything that might tarnish his reputation or jeopardize his business, she had no confidence that his response would be satisfactory. Her hands lifted to her face, her breathing quickening all the while.
She was barely eighteen and she was going to die.
Her whole life had been biding her time, waiting to be an adult, to leave for college, to make her own choices. To escape her father’s shadow enough to find a life of her own. Oh god, she was going to die a blasted virgin. It was cruel, beyond cruel. How had this happened? If only she had been more patient, dealt with the bodyguards until she left for school. This never would have happened. She would have had a chance to live. Instead, her life was over before it had ever truly started.
She squeaked in surprise as he grabbed her arm roughly, once more brought to her tippy toes by the motion. The shock of his touch sent another jolt of fear through her until her eyes were wide and her breath came only in shallow bursts. Her chest burned as though someone was sitting atop her. Her hand went to her heart, feeling it pound not just in her chest but in her ears as well; the thumping of her pulse and the perceived tightening of her throat making her dizzy. She went limp in his grasp, eyes wide as she fought to breathe, gasping hoarsely. “I can’t…” she choked on the words, clutching at her chest.
Maybe this was better. She would never know if her father loved her or his business more. She would never feel the violence of the death that was waiting for her. It could simply be over now.
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His laugh caught her off guard as her head snapped up to look at him, confusion on her face. Was that because he found it ridiculous his employer could be so cruel or merely an indication he found it so obvious that her question struck him as funny. Somehow the words he said didn’t settle the dread that had been conjured deep within her stomach.
That was apparently quite wise of her for in the next instant, faster than she could blink, he had closed the distance between them entirely. She gasped as he pulled her up by the hair, the full foot of height difference between them had her standing on the tips of her toes as he pressed the knife to her throat in a threat. She could only stare at him wide eyed, realizing that he would do it too. He wouldn’t think twice about taking care of her if it was asked of him.
“Oh.”
Had he done it before? She guessed as much even as her hand lifted to her neck, the memory of the blade pressed there all too vivid. Unless it was all bravado, but somehow she didn’t believe that. What had happened to him to lead him down this path? After all, killers were made, not born typically. What had gone so wrong in his life to bring him to a point where killing meant nothing to him? Even if he was cruel, he wasn’t soulless.
Her eyes studied him as he released her, making her rock back on her heels, as he then moved to pace the room. He didn’t want to be here, that much was obvious. The way he looked at her, as though he knew her and hated her... But he knew nothing about her! Nothing that wasn’t written in some dossier about her father’s value at least. It was nothing new though. Between the press and her classmates, people pretended as though they knew her all the time. What was one more? ‘
Her mind quickly shifted back to the revelation that death was coming for her. “Please tell me they only want his money?” she whispered. If it was anything more than that, anything that might tarnish his reputation or jeopardize his business, she had no confidence that his response would be satisfactory. Her hands lifted to her face, her breathing quickening all the while.
She was barely eighteen and she was going to die.
Her whole life had been biding her time, waiting to be an adult, to leave for college, to make her own choices. To escape her father’s shadow enough to find a life of her own. Oh god, she was going to die a blasted virgin. It was cruel, beyond cruel. How had this happened? If only she had been more patient, dealt with the bodyguards until she left for school. This never would have happened. She would have had a chance to live. Instead, her life was over before it had ever truly started.
She squeaked in surprise as he grabbed her arm roughly, once more brought to her tippy toes by the motion. The shock of his touch sent another jolt of fear through her until her eyes were wide and her breath came only in shallow bursts. Her chest burned as though someone was sitting atop her. Her hand went to her heart, feeling it pound not just in her chest but in her ears as well; the thumping of her pulse and the perceived tightening of her throat making her dizzy. She went limp in his grasp, eyes wide as she fought to breathe, gasping hoarsely. “I can’t…” she choked on the words, clutching at her chest.
Maybe this was better. She would never know if her father loved her or his business more. She would never feel the violence of the death that was waiting for her. It could simply be over now.
His laugh caught her off guard as her head snapped up to look at him, confusion on her face. Was that because he found it ridiculous his employer could be so cruel or merely an indication he found it so obvious that her question struck him as funny. Somehow the words he said didn’t settle the dread that had been conjured deep within her stomach.
That was apparently quite wise of her for in the next instant, faster than she could blink, he had closed the distance between them entirely. She gasped as he pulled her up by the hair, the full foot of height difference between them had her standing on the tips of her toes as he pressed the knife to her throat in a threat. She could only stare at him wide eyed, realizing that he would do it too. He wouldn’t think twice about taking care of her if it was asked of him.
“Oh.”
Had he done it before? She guessed as much even as her hand lifted to her neck, the memory of the blade pressed there all too vivid. Unless it was all bravado, but somehow she didn’t believe that. What had happened to him to lead him down this path? After all, killers were made, not born typically. What had gone so wrong in his life to bring him to a point where killing meant nothing to him? Even if he was cruel, he wasn’t soulless.
Her eyes studied him as he released her, making her rock back on her heels, as he then moved to pace the room. He didn’t want to be here, that much was obvious. The way he looked at her, as though he knew her and hated her... But he knew nothing about her! Nothing that wasn’t written in some dossier about her father’s value at least. It was nothing new though. Between the press and her classmates, people pretended as though they knew her all the time. What was one more? ‘
Her mind quickly shifted back to the revelation that death was coming for her. “Please tell me they only want his money?” she whispered. If it was anything more than that, anything that might tarnish his reputation or jeopardize his business, she had no confidence that his response would be satisfactory. Her hands lifted to her face, her breathing quickening all the while.
She was barely eighteen and she was going to die.
Her whole life had been biding her time, waiting to be an adult, to leave for college, to make her own choices. To escape her father’s shadow enough to find a life of her own. Oh god, she was going to die a blasted virgin. It was cruel, beyond cruel. How had this happened? If only she had been more patient, dealt with the bodyguards until she left for school. This never would have happened. She would have had a chance to live. Instead, her life was over before it had ever truly started.
She squeaked in surprise as he grabbed her arm roughly, once more brought to her tippy toes by the motion. The shock of his touch sent another jolt of fear through her until her eyes were wide and her breath came only in shallow bursts. Her chest burned as though someone was sitting atop her. Her hand went to her heart, feeling it pound not just in her chest but in her ears as well; the thumping of her pulse and the perceived tightening of her throat making her dizzy. She went limp in his grasp, eyes wide as she fought to breathe, gasping hoarsely. “I can’t…” she choked on the words, clutching at her chest.
Maybe this was better. She would never know if her father loved her or his business more. She would never feel the violence of the death that was waiting for her. It could simply be over now.
They were halfway to the door when suddenly Essa stopped walking, practically becoming a rag doll and nearly falling to the floor. She would have too, he almost let her. BUt the floor was concrete, and if she hit her head just right… well, it wouldn’t end well for her. And in turn it wouldn’t end well for him. No one disobeyed Mr. Moretti. Not even the favored Kyros. He growled angrily, grabbing her by both her arms now. He stood in front of her, facing her, as he held her on her feet. “Hey! Hey! Don’t you dare pass out, princess. You can walk out of here, or you can be drug out by your ankles. If you think I’m carrying you, you are sadly mistaken.” He shook her as he spoke to emphasize his words. But it didn’t really seem to matter much, he was holding her up entirely by now. “Fuck me,” he muttered as he lowered her to the floor to lean against the wall.
He crouched before her, resting on his haunches, his arms folded and wrapped around his knees, chin on his arm, grey eyes looking like thin slits as he stared at her. What the fuck was even wrong with her? And how was he going to pull her out of it? He didn’t move, except to let his eyes flick to the walls and back to her. He could feel them closing in. Could feel the need to go outside getting stronger. Screw it. He came forward on his knees, gripped her chin and lifted her face. And he slapped her hard on the cheek. “Snap out of it!”
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They were halfway to the door when suddenly Essa stopped walking, practically becoming a rag doll and nearly falling to the floor. She would have too, he almost let her. BUt the floor was concrete, and if she hit her head just right… well, it wouldn’t end well for her. And in turn it wouldn’t end well for him. No one disobeyed Mr. Moretti. Not even the favored Kyros. He growled angrily, grabbing her by both her arms now. He stood in front of her, facing her, as he held her on her feet. “Hey! Hey! Don’t you dare pass out, princess. You can walk out of here, or you can be drug out by your ankles. If you think I’m carrying you, you are sadly mistaken.” He shook her as he spoke to emphasize his words. But it didn’t really seem to matter much, he was holding her up entirely by now. “Fuck me,” he muttered as he lowered her to the floor to lean against the wall.
He crouched before her, resting on his haunches, his arms folded and wrapped around his knees, chin on his arm, grey eyes looking like thin slits as he stared at her. What the fuck was even wrong with her? And how was he going to pull her out of it? He didn’t move, except to let his eyes flick to the walls and back to her. He could feel them closing in. Could feel the need to go outside getting stronger. Screw it. He came forward on his knees, gripped her chin and lifted her face. And he slapped her hard on the cheek. “Snap out of it!”
They were halfway to the door when suddenly Essa stopped walking, practically becoming a rag doll and nearly falling to the floor. She would have too, he almost let her. BUt the floor was concrete, and if she hit her head just right… well, it wouldn’t end well for her. And in turn it wouldn’t end well for him. No one disobeyed Mr. Moretti. Not even the favored Kyros. He growled angrily, grabbing her by both her arms now. He stood in front of her, facing her, as he held her on her feet. “Hey! Hey! Don’t you dare pass out, princess. You can walk out of here, or you can be drug out by your ankles. If you think I’m carrying you, you are sadly mistaken.” He shook her as he spoke to emphasize his words. But it didn’t really seem to matter much, he was holding her up entirely by now. “Fuck me,” he muttered as he lowered her to the floor to lean against the wall.
He crouched before her, resting on his haunches, his arms folded and wrapped around his knees, chin on his arm, grey eyes looking like thin slits as he stared at her. What the fuck was even wrong with her? And how was he going to pull her out of it? He didn’t move, except to let his eyes flick to the walls and back to her. He could feel them closing in. Could feel the need to go outside getting stronger. Screw it. He came forward on his knees, gripped her chin and lifted her face. And he slapped her hard on the cheek. “Snap out of it!”
Kyros was speaking to her. She knew that much. But his words sounded fuzzy... like something over an old loudspeaker. He shook her too, but none of it mattered. She was frozen by the horror within her own mind. Thoughts off all the things she had once hoped for seemed to flit before her eyes, leaving her staring ahead almost catatonic. Her chest strained with efforts to breath, but she was barely aware of the young man’s grip on her now, or the way he lowered her to the floor.
She instinctively curled upon herself as he placed her on the floor, pulling her knees to her chest. She had always wanted to see the world. She had the money to do it, but her father had never been willing to let her venture away from the city. She wasn’t the sort to enjoy the nightlife or partying like her peers. She wanted peace and adventure and romance. Not some hookup in a limo. Not to get blackout drunk in a barely there dress.
She wanted to see the blue waters of Greece, and the vineyards of Italy. The cafes of France and the rolling hills of Ireland.
But now she never would. She would never have the sort of kiss that made her forget where she was. She would never know the touch of a man. Never get married, or have a family of her own. She’d never get the chance to do anything outside her bubble wrapped comfort zone. To find someone - anyone - who understood her. Who cared about more than her bank account.
Tears fell down her face as she hyperventilated, unable to see beyond the life she suddenly felt certain was being stolen from her.
A hand gripped her chin, lifting her face up, her eyes looking at the man before her, yet not really seeing him. Suddenly a sting of pain erupted on the side of her face and she gasped sharply. Blinking rapidly, she looked at him, her breathing labored, but at a normal pace. Still, she could only stare at him for a long moment.
Her mind was clearer now but she wasn’t free entirely from the sense of foreboding doom of before.
“Shit.” It was said so matter-of-factly that it didn’t seem out of place at all, even though she was clearly not the sort who cursed... almost ever. But her situation seemed so bleak, she couldn’t bring herself to care. Her eyes finally landed on his. “I’m probably going to die and there is absolutely nothing I can do to stop it.” She bit her lower lip, shaking her head. “Fuck. I am so tired of everyone else deciding my life for me. I’ve barely even gotten to live it and now I doubt I ever will.”
She tipped her head back against the wall, eyes closed. “I don’t fucking deserve this. Damn it all to hell.” Her head tipped forward to bury into her hands, sighing heavily. It wasn’t fair. Not in the least. She was going to be punished for her father’s pride and greed. All because she was unlucky enough to have been spawned by him. The reality of that crashed through her, leaving her too drained to even feel guilty for doubting her father’s love.
When she finally lifted her head, she offered the young man before her a small half-hearted smile. “So how are we spending my possible last hours alive then?”
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Kyros was speaking to her. She knew that much. But his words sounded fuzzy... like something over an old loudspeaker. He shook her too, but none of it mattered. She was frozen by the horror within her own mind. Thoughts off all the things she had once hoped for seemed to flit before her eyes, leaving her staring ahead almost catatonic. Her chest strained with efforts to breath, but she was barely aware of the young man’s grip on her now, or the way he lowered her to the floor.
She instinctively curled upon herself as he placed her on the floor, pulling her knees to her chest. She had always wanted to see the world. She had the money to do it, but her father had never been willing to let her venture away from the city. She wasn’t the sort to enjoy the nightlife or partying like her peers. She wanted peace and adventure and romance. Not some hookup in a limo. Not to get blackout drunk in a barely there dress.
She wanted to see the blue waters of Greece, and the vineyards of Italy. The cafes of France and the rolling hills of Ireland.
But now she never would. She would never have the sort of kiss that made her forget where she was. She would never know the touch of a man. Never get married, or have a family of her own. She’d never get the chance to do anything outside her bubble wrapped comfort zone. To find someone - anyone - who understood her. Who cared about more than her bank account.
Tears fell down her face as she hyperventilated, unable to see beyond the life she suddenly felt certain was being stolen from her.
A hand gripped her chin, lifting her face up, her eyes looking at the man before her, yet not really seeing him. Suddenly a sting of pain erupted on the side of her face and she gasped sharply. Blinking rapidly, she looked at him, her breathing labored, but at a normal pace. Still, she could only stare at him for a long moment.
Her mind was clearer now but she wasn’t free entirely from the sense of foreboding doom of before.
“Shit.” It was said so matter-of-factly that it didn’t seem out of place at all, even though she was clearly not the sort who cursed... almost ever. But her situation seemed so bleak, she couldn’t bring herself to care. Her eyes finally landed on his. “I’m probably going to die and there is absolutely nothing I can do to stop it.” She bit her lower lip, shaking her head. “Fuck. I am so tired of everyone else deciding my life for me. I’ve barely even gotten to live it and now I doubt I ever will.”
She tipped her head back against the wall, eyes closed. “I don’t fucking deserve this. Damn it all to hell.” Her head tipped forward to bury into her hands, sighing heavily. It wasn’t fair. Not in the least. She was going to be punished for her father’s pride and greed. All because she was unlucky enough to have been spawned by him. The reality of that crashed through her, leaving her too drained to even feel guilty for doubting her father’s love.
When she finally lifted her head, she offered the young man before her a small half-hearted smile. “So how are we spending my possible last hours alive then?”
Kyros was speaking to her. She knew that much. But his words sounded fuzzy... like something over an old loudspeaker. He shook her too, but none of it mattered. She was frozen by the horror within her own mind. Thoughts off all the things she had once hoped for seemed to flit before her eyes, leaving her staring ahead almost catatonic. Her chest strained with efforts to breath, but she was barely aware of the young man’s grip on her now, or the way he lowered her to the floor.
She instinctively curled upon herself as he placed her on the floor, pulling her knees to her chest. She had always wanted to see the world. She had the money to do it, but her father had never been willing to let her venture away from the city. She wasn’t the sort to enjoy the nightlife or partying like her peers. She wanted peace and adventure and romance. Not some hookup in a limo. Not to get blackout drunk in a barely there dress.
She wanted to see the blue waters of Greece, and the vineyards of Italy. The cafes of France and the rolling hills of Ireland.
But now she never would. She would never have the sort of kiss that made her forget where she was. She would never know the touch of a man. Never get married, or have a family of her own. She’d never get the chance to do anything outside her bubble wrapped comfort zone. To find someone - anyone - who understood her. Who cared about more than her bank account.
Tears fell down her face as she hyperventilated, unable to see beyond the life she suddenly felt certain was being stolen from her.
A hand gripped her chin, lifting her face up, her eyes looking at the man before her, yet not really seeing him. Suddenly a sting of pain erupted on the side of her face and she gasped sharply. Blinking rapidly, she looked at him, her breathing labored, but at a normal pace. Still, she could only stare at him for a long moment.
Her mind was clearer now but she wasn’t free entirely from the sense of foreboding doom of before.
“Shit.” It was said so matter-of-factly that it didn’t seem out of place at all, even though she was clearly not the sort who cursed... almost ever. But her situation seemed so bleak, she couldn’t bring herself to care. Her eyes finally landed on his. “I’m probably going to die and there is absolutely nothing I can do to stop it.” She bit her lower lip, shaking her head. “Fuck. I am so tired of everyone else deciding my life for me. I’ve barely even gotten to live it and now I doubt I ever will.”
She tipped her head back against the wall, eyes closed. “I don’t fucking deserve this. Damn it all to hell.” Her head tipped forward to bury into her hands, sighing heavily. It wasn’t fair. Not in the least. She was going to be punished for her father’s pride and greed. All because she was unlucky enough to have been spawned by him. The reality of that crashed through her, leaving her too drained to even feel guilty for doubting her father’s love.
When she finally lifted her head, she offered the young man before her a small half-hearted smile. “So how are we spending my possible last hours alive then?”
Kyros kept his grip on the girl’s chin as she stared at him. The look on her face said she was processing that she’d just been slapped. Then that single word left her lips. A rather crass word that he hadn’t expected one of her ilk to say like that. He let go of her, a wry grin on his features. Then she started rambling about how she was going to die and she couldn’t stop it, she didn’t deserve it. Classic princess bull shit. He groaned disgustedly, shifting off his knees and falling to the hard floor to lay on his back, his knees bent into the air while he let her process. He could yank her to her feet and drag her out of the room with him, but that would likely result in her collapsing to the floor again. Fuck that shit. He pursed his lips as he stared at the dull grey ceiling. He’d give her all of three minutes to sort out and accept her situation, then he was dragging her out of here by her fucking feet if she didn’t start walking.
He barely even heard anything of her rant, lost in his own thoughts as he was and trying not to think about the reasons why he’d have been reassigned like this. He didn’t think he’d done anything to upset the boss. Maybe he figured someone would try to come after the girl? Kyros was one of the fastest men at Mr. Moretti’s disposal. He was also adept at thinking on his feet and getting in and out of situations that were… tricky. Maybe this wasn’t just a simple babysitting job? The man was pulled from his thoughts at the change of inflection in Essa’s voice. “Hmm? Oh... are you done feeling sorry for yourself now? Good. On your feet.” He followed suit and stood up to his full six foot height. Without really waiting for her to get her bearings on her own feet, he gripped her elbow again and led her from the room.
Down the short and dimly lit subterranean hall, up the stairs at the end and through the door at the top. They entered the much brighter first floor of the massive mansion that Mr. Moretti and a few of the higher level members of the organization called home. Including Kyros, who was like a son to the powerful older Italian. The floor was marble, the art on the walls and statues in the corners looked genuine - or at least really good replicas. Large windows dominated many walls of the rooms they passed. Everything about the place screamed money and power. Many halls and turns later, Kyros walked through a wide glass door and out onto a finely furnished patio. He’d never loosened his grip on her arm the entire way. Now though, he took her to one of the cushioned chairs around a glass table positioned under a gazebo like covering over the patio. “Sit. Don’t move.” His tone was harsh and impatient. Being outside, he was already breathing a bit easier but he was still troubled by the fact that he was going to be stuck here keeping this bitch in line. He growled under his breath as he turned away from her and paced a few feet away.
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Kyros kept his grip on the girl’s chin as she stared at him. The look on her face said she was processing that she’d just been slapped. Then that single word left her lips. A rather crass word that he hadn’t expected one of her ilk to say like that. He let go of her, a wry grin on his features. Then she started rambling about how she was going to die and she couldn’t stop it, she didn’t deserve it. Classic princess bull shit. He groaned disgustedly, shifting off his knees and falling to the hard floor to lay on his back, his knees bent into the air while he let her process. He could yank her to her feet and drag her out of the room with him, but that would likely result in her collapsing to the floor again. Fuck that shit. He pursed his lips as he stared at the dull grey ceiling. He’d give her all of three minutes to sort out and accept her situation, then he was dragging her out of here by her fucking feet if she didn’t start walking.
He barely even heard anything of her rant, lost in his own thoughts as he was and trying not to think about the reasons why he’d have been reassigned like this. He didn’t think he’d done anything to upset the boss. Maybe he figured someone would try to come after the girl? Kyros was one of the fastest men at Mr. Moretti’s disposal. He was also adept at thinking on his feet and getting in and out of situations that were… tricky. Maybe this wasn’t just a simple babysitting job? The man was pulled from his thoughts at the change of inflection in Essa’s voice. “Hmm? Oh... are you done feeling sorry for yourself now? Good. On your feet.” He followed suit and stood up to his full six foot height. Without really waiting for her to get her bearings on her own feet, he gripped her elbow again and led her from the room.
Down the short and dimly lit subterranean hall, up the stairs at the end and through the door at the top. They entered the much brighter first floor of the massive mansion that Mr. Moretti and a few of the higher level members of the organization called home. Including Kyros, who was like a son to the powerful older Italian. The floor was marble, the art on the walls and statues in the corners looked genuine - or at least really good replicas. Large windows dominated many walls of the rooms they passed. Everything about the place screamed money and power. Many halls and turns later, Kyros walked through a wide glass door and out onto a finely furnished patio. He’d never loosened his grip on her arm the entire way. Now though, he took her to one of the cushioned chairs around a glass table positioned under a gazebo like covering over the patio. “Sit. Don’t move.” His tone was harsh and impatient. Being outside, he was already breathing a bit easier but he was still troubled by the fact that he was going to be stuck here keeping this bitch in line. He growled under his breath as he turned away from her and paced a few feet away.
Kyros kept his grip on the girl’s chin as she stared at him. The look on her face said she was processing that she’d just been slapped. Then that single word left her lips. A rather crass word that he hadn’t expected one of her ilk to say like that. He let go of her, a wry grin on his features. Then she started rambling about how she was going to die and she couldn’t stop it, she didn’t deserve it. Classic princess bull shit. He groaned disgustedly, shifting off his knees and falling to the hard floor to lay on his back, his knees bent into the air while he let her process. He could yank her to her feet and drag her out of the room with him, but that would likely result in her collapsing to the floor again. Fuck that shit. He pursed his lips as he stared at the dull grey ceiling. He’d give her all of three minutes to sort out and accept her situation, then he was dragging her out of here by her fucking feet if she didn’t start walking.
He barely even heard anything of her rant, lost in his own thoughts as he was and trying not to think about the reasons why he’d have been reassigned like this. He didn’t think he’d done anything to upset the boss. Maybe he figured someone would try to come after the girl? Kyros was one of the fastest men at Mr. Moretti’s disposal. He was also adept at thinking on his feet and getting in and out of situations that were… tricky. Maybe this wasn’t just a simple babysitting job? The man was pulled from his thoughts at the change of inflection in Essa’s voice. “Hmm? Oh... are you done feeling sorry for yourself now? Good. On your feet.” He followed suit and stood up to his full six foot height. Without really waiting for her to get her bearings on her own feet, he gripped her elbow again and led her from the room.
Down the short and dimly lit subterranean hall, up the stairs at the end and through the door at the top. They entered the much brighter first floor of the massive mansion that Mr. Moretti and a few of the higher level members of the organization called home. Including Kyros, who was like a son to the powerful older Italian. The floor was marble, the art on the walls and statues in the corners looked genuine - or at least really good replicas. Large windows dominated many walls of the rooms they passed. Everything about the place screamed money and power. Many halls and turns later, Kyros walked through a wide glass door and out onto a finely furnished patio. He’d never loosened his grip on her arm the entire way. Now though, he took her to one of the cushioned chairs around a glass table positioned under a gazebo like covering over the patio. “Sit. Don’t move.” His tone was harsh and impatient. Being outside, he was already breathing a bit easier but he was still troubled by the fact that he was going to be stuck here keeping this bitch in line. He growled under his breath as he turned away from her and paced a few feet away.
Essa paid the man before her no mind as her brain rapidly tried to process the gravity of the situation she was in - and the uncertainty of it. She wanted to believe her father would value her life above all else, but... she had always wondered if he cared more for his business for her. After all, one received all his time and attention while the other was left to be handled by employees. She had been raised by a nanny not a parent.
But she could only accept things as they were and try to make the most of her time. There was truly no other option.
Her eyes narrowed however as he spoke to her. “Oh. You’re one of those,” she said flatly as she took in his obvious disdain. Still, she didn’t hesitate to get to her feet. His words still irked her - after all, accepting impending death as a pawn in someone else’s dealings was something that warranted a little self-pity and wallowing for all of a minute. Ridiculous.
She bit back a growl of her own as he grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her along. She couldn’t hold her tongue any longer though as she practically had to skip to keep up with his long strides. “Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but you’re a full foot taller than me at least. My legs aren’t as long as yours and your grip practically pulls me off the ground as it is.” Her words were polite but her tone betrayed her irritation. “I realize you have no reason to care about my comfort, but maybe you could manage to be at least vaguely considerate before I fall?”
The answer was probably no, but she was tired of holding her tongue when all he seemed intent on doing was judging her ruthlessly.
Finally they reached their destination - a patio outside the grand home. He all but pushed her down into a chair, ordering her to sit. She rolled her eyes as she did so. “You do realize that I’m not stupid, right? I’m not going to try and run. You’d catch me before I took my third step.” It was just a simple fact. She looked around briefly, taking in the scenery, before her eyes drifted back to him, his irritation written plainly on every line of his body. She sighed heavily.
“Do you happen to know what they did with my stuff? If you’re only going to bark orders at me, I’d at least like the company of one of my books.”
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Essa paid the man before her no mind as her brain rapidly tried to process the gravity of the situation she was in - and the uncertainty of it. She wanted to believe her father would value her life above all else, but... she had always wondered if he cared more for his business for her. After all, one received all his time and attention while the other was left to be handled by employees. She had been raised by a nanny not a parent.
But she could only accept things as they were and try to make the most of her time. There was truly no other option.
Her eyes narrowed however as he spoke to her. “Oh. You’re one of those,” she said flatly as she took in his obvious disdain. Still, she didn’t hesitate to get to her feet. His words still irked her - after all, accepting impending death as a pawn in someone else’s dealings was something that warranted a little self-pity and wallowing for all of a minute. Ridiculous.
She bit back a growl of her own as he grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her along. She couldn’t hold her tongue any longer though as she practically had to skip to keep up with his long strides. “Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but you’re a full foot taller than me at least. My legs aren’t as long as yours and your grip practically pulls me off the ground as it is.” Her words were polite but her tone betrayed her irritation. “I realize you have no reason to care about my comfort, but maybe you could manage to be at least vaguely considerate before I fall?”
The answer was probably no, but she was tired of holding her tongue when all he seemed intent on doing was judging her ruthlessly.
Finally they reached their destination - a patio outside the grand home. He all but pushed her down into a chair, ordering her to sit. She rolled her eyes as she did so. “You do realize that I’m not stupid, right? I’m not going to try and run. You’d catch me before I took my third step.” It was just a simple fact. She looked around briefly, taking in the scenery, before her eyes drifted back to him, his irritation written plainly on every line of his body. She sighed heavily.
“Do you happen to know what they did with my stuff? If you’re only going to bark orders at me, I’d at least like the company of one of my books.”
Essa paid the man before her no mind as her brain rapidly tried to process the gravity of the situation she was in - and the uncertainty of it. She wanted to believe her father would value her life above all else, but... she had always wondered if he cared more for his business for her. After all, one received all his time and attention while the other was left to be handled by employees. She had been raised by a nanny not a parent.
But she could only accept things as they were and try to make the most of her time. There was truly no other option.
Her eyes narrowed however as he spoke to her. “Oh. You’re one of those,” she said flatly as she took in his obvious disdain. Still, she didn’t hesitate to get to her feet. His words still irked her - after all, accepting impending death as a pawn in someone else’s dealings was something that warranted a little self-pity and wallowing for all of a minute. Ridiculous.
She bit back a growl of her own as he grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her along. She couldn’t hold her tongue any longer though as she practically had to skip to keep up with his long strides. “Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but you’re a full foot taller than me at least. My legs aren’t as long as yours and your grip practically pulls me off the ground as it is.” Her words were polite but her tone betrayed her irritation. “I realize you have no reason to care about my comfort, but maybe you could manage to be at least vaguely considerate before I fall?”
The answer was probably no, but she was tired of holding her tongue when all he seemed intent on doing was judging her ruthlessly.
Finally they reached their destination - a patio outside the grand home. He all but pushed her down into a chair, ordering her to sit. She rolled her eyes as she did so. “You do realize that I’m not stupid, right? I’m not going to try and run. You’d catch me before I took my third step.” It was just a simple fact. She looked around briefly, taking in the scenery, before her eyes drifted back to him, his irritation written plainly on every line of his body. She sighed heavily.
“Do you happen to know what they did with my stuff? If you’re only going to bark orders at me, I’d at least like the company of one of my books.”
‘I realize you have no reason to care about my comfort, but maybe you could manage to be at least vaguely considerate before I fall?”’
Kyros cut her a loathsome glare. He didn’t verbally respond to her or slow down his pace, but he did drop his shoulder a bit so he wasn’t quite pulling her off the ground as much. Honestly hadn’t even considered how much taller he was than her. But now all he could see was how tiny she was. Great… he was babysitting a midget. He let out a huffing sigh as he continued dragging her along through the halls.
Outside, the sun on his skin, the slight breeze rustling his dark hair. Kyros took a few deep cleansing breaths while he thought. It was good she seemed to understand that he’d just catch her if she tried to run. Not that she’d get very far. She’d never be able to scale the eight foot tall brick that surrounded the property. So that just left what to do with her, how to manage her. Moretti had said he was the girl’s ‘personal guard.’ Likely he’d be responsible for everything she would need. Food, bathroom, clothes if this dragged on for more than a couple days. Her grating voice cut into his racing thoughts. He stopped his pacing and turned to look at her. “Books? You are a prisoner, you think you’re going to die, and you are concerned with wanting to read?” What the hell? He shook his head, walking over and plopping down into one of the other chairs across the table. He planted an elbow on the arm of it and put his chin in his hand. “No, princess, I don’t know where your precious books are.” He stared her down from where he sat. His grey gaze flowing over her like he could see straight through her. She was small, tiny really. But she wasn’t bad on the eyes, so at least there was that. And it was still a personable job. He could get his kicks from scaring the shit out of her, like he had down in the basement room when he’d told her that he’d be the one to kill her if it came to that. He could do without her attitude though. Maybe this assignment wouldn’t be so bad.
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‘I realize you have no reason to care about my comfort, but maybe you could manage to be at least vaguely considerate before I fall?”’
Kyros cut her a loathsome glare. He didn’t verbally respond to her or slow down his pace, but he did drop his shoulder a bit so he wasn’t quite pulling her off the ground as much. Honestly hadn’t even considered how much taller he was than her. But now all he could see was how tiny she was. Great… he was babysitting a midget. He let out a huffing sigh as he continued dragging her along through the halls.
Outside, the sun on his skin, the slight breeze rustling his dark hair. Kyros took a few deep cleansing breaths while he thought. It was good she seemed to understand that he’d just catch her if she tried to run. Not that she’d get very far. She’d never be able to scale the eight foot tall brick that surrounded the property. So that just left what to do with her, how to manage her. Moretti had said he was the girl’s ‘personal guard.’ Likely he’d be responsible for everything she would need. Food, bathroom, clothes if this dragged on for more than a couple days. Her grating voice cut into his racing thoughts. He stopped his pacing and turned to look at her. “Books? You are a prisoner, you think you’re going to die, and you are concerned with wanting to read?” What the hell? He shook his head, walking over and plopping down into one of the other chairs across the table. He planted an elbow on the arm of it and put his chin in his hand. “No, princess, I don’t know where your precious books are.” He stared her down from where he sat. His grey gaze flowing over her like he could see straight through her. She was small, tiny really. But she wasn’t bad on the eyes, so at least there was that. And it was still a personable job. He could get his kicks from scaring the shit out of her, like he had down in the basement room when he’d told her that he’d be the one to kill her if it came to that. He could do without her attitude though. Maybe this assignment wouldn’t be so bad.
‘I realize you have no reason to care about my comfort, but maybe you could manage to be at least vaguely considerate before I fall?”’
Kyros cut her a loathsome glare. He didn’t verbally respond to her or slow down his pace, but he did drop his shoulder a bit so he wasn’t quite pulling her off the ground as much. Honestly hadn’t even considered how much taller he was than her. But now all he could see was how tiny she was. Great… he was babysitting a midget. He let out a huffing sigh as he continued dragging her along through the halls.
Outside, the sun on his skin, the slight breeze rustling his dark hair. Kyros took a few deep cleansing breaths while he thought. It was good she seemed to understand that he’d just catch her if she tried to run. Not that she’d get very far. She’d never be able to scale the eight foot tall brick that surrounded the property. So that just left what to do with her, how to manage her. Moretti had said he was the girl’s ‘personal guard.’ Likely he’d be responsible for everything she would need. Food, bathroom, clothes if this dragged on for more than a couple days. Her grating voice cut into his racing thoughts. He stopped his pacing and turned to look at her. “Books? You are a prisoner, you think you’re going to die, and you are concerned with wanting to read?” What the hell? He shook his head, walking over and plopping down into one of the other chairs across the table. He planted an elbow on the arm of it and put his chin in his hand. “No, princess, I don’t know where your precious books are.” He stared her down from where he sat. His grey gaze flowing over her like he could see straight through her. She was small, tiny really. But she wasn’t bad on the eyes, so at least there was that. And it was still a personable job. He could get his kicks from scaring the shit out of her, like he had down in the basement room when he’d told her that he’d be the one to kill her if it came to that. He could do without her attitude though. Maybe this assignment wouldn’t be so bad.
He ignored her words entirely - which was expected if she was being honest - but it annoyed her to no end. Still, it didn’t escape his notice that his grip lowered a little, just enough to minimize her stumbling as she struggled to keep up with him. It wasn’t much, but it was a small concession nonetheless. She thought about thanking him but suspected he’d counter in some way just to spite her.
“And here I thought I was a guest,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. She leaned forward, arms braced against the glass of the table. “And yes, I am. No one said I had to bide my time in misery. Even prisoners get some luxuries before they face their executions. Why should this be any different?” She stared at him unflinchingly, silently daring him to tell her she was wrong. On this, she had no intent of wavering.
“Besides, it’s not as if you’re acting like good company. My books at least I can count on to make these next hours tolerable, maybe even pleasant.” If she was lucky, maybe she’d actually be able to forget for a moment that death was staring her in the face. But it seemed that acknowledging it had only made it more inescapable.
“Not to mention that you’re the one who said to stop ‘feeling sorry for myself’ and worrying about the fact that I’m probably never leaving here alive. What else would you have me do?”
She sighed heavily as he admitted he didn’t know where her books were. “Well, that’s disappointing. I was in the middle of the climax when I got snatched... I really wanted to know who won that battle...” It was a small thing, but it was easier to think about than anything else that was looming over her.
The heat of the sun was pleasant, but not exactly what she had dressed for this morning. She stripped off her cardigan, placing it neatly to the side. Then she began to loosen her tie just enough to undo the top two buttons of her shirt, already feeling relief from the breeze.
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He ignored her words entirely - which was expected if she was being honest - but it annoyed her to no end. Still, it didn’t escape his notice that his grip lowered a little, just enough to minimize her stumbling as she struggled to keep up with him. It wasn’t much, but it was a small concession nonetheless. She thought about thanking him but suspected he’d counter in some way just to spite her.
“And here I thought I was a guest,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. She leaned forward, arms braced against the glass of the table. “And yes, I am. No one said I had to bide my time in misery. Even prisoners get some luxuries before they face their executions. Why should this be any different?” She stared at him unflinchingly, silently daring him to tell her she was wrong. On this, she had no intent of wavering.
“Besides, it’s not as if you’re acting like good company. My books at least I can count on to make these next hours tolerable, maybe even pleasant.” If she was lucky, maybe she’d actually be able to forget for a moment that death was staring her in the face. But it seemed that acknowledging it had only made it more inescapable.
“Not to mention that you’re the one who said to stop ‘feeling sorry for myself’ and worrying about the fact that I’m probably never leaving here alive. What else would you have me do?”
She sighed heavily as he admitted he didn’t know where her books were. “Well, that’s disappointing. I was in the middle of the climax when I got snatched... I really wanted to know who won that battle...” It was a small thing, but it was easier to think about than anything else that was looming over her.
The heat of the sun was pleasant, but not exactly what she had dressed for this morning. She stripped off her cardigan, placing it neatly to the side. Then she began to loosen her tie just enough to undo the top two buttons of her shirt, already feeling relief from the breeze.
He ignored her words entirely - which was expected if she was being honest - but it annoyed her to no end. Still, it didn’t escape his notice that his grip lowered a little, just enough to minimize her stumbling as she struggled to keep up with him. It wasn’t much, but it was a small concession nonetheless. She thought about thanking him but suspected he’d counter in some way just to spite her.
“And here I thought I was a guest,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. She leaned forward, arms braced against the glass of the table. “And yes, I am. No one said I had to bide my time in misery. Even prisoners get some luxuries before they face their executions. Why should this be any different?” She stared at him unflinchingly, silently daring him to tell her she was wrong. On this, she had no intent of wavering.
“Besides, it’s not as if you’re acting like good company. My books at least I can count on to make these next hours tolerable, maybe even pleasant.” If she was lucky, maybe she’d actually be able to forget for a moment that death was staring her in the face. But it seemed that acknowledging it had only made it more inescapable.
“Not to mention that you’re the one who said to stop ‘feeling sorry for myself’ and worrying about the fact that I’m probably never leaving here alive. What else would you have me do?”
She sighed heavily as he admitted he didn’t know where her books were. “Well, that’s disappointing. I was in the middle of the climax when I got snatched... I really wanted to know who won that battle...” It was a small thing, but it was easier to think about than anything else that was looming over her.
The heat of the sun was pleasant, but not exactly what she had dressed for this morning. She stripped off her cardigan, placing it neatly to the side. Then she began to loosen her tie just enough to undo the top two buttons of her shirt, already feeling relief from the breeze.
He rose a brow at the audacity to speak to him in such a way, quoting his own words and throwing them back in his face. It was true enough that Moretti had said she was a guest. But Kyros knew what he’d really meant, and he was certain the girl did as well; she was just showing off her spoiled privileged ass, he was sure. “The villain. Or it should have been, in any case. Heroes are weak and ruled by their hearts rather than their heads. It’s not practical that the hero would always win the day. Then again, good and evil are constructs invented to scare little kids into doing what they are told.” Callous. Matter-of-fact. Like he’d pondered this very question many times before. And in fact, he had. He hadn’t known his real father. Barely remembered his mother. He’d been bounced around the system so much, it took days for anyone to even notice he’d run away. Again. Good and evil didn’t exist in his world. There was just what was, and what would be necessary to survive it.
He tilted his head to the side, watching her as she removed her sweater and loosened the school uniform tie and the buttons of her shirt. Was she hot or just wanted out of the clothes? He sucked in a breath and averted his gaze. Maybe it was a bit warm outside. Fuck. Maybe he could pin her down somewhere in the house and be free to come back outside. He’d just have to check on her to make sure she didn’t try to off herself ahead of schedule. He stood suddenly and started for the house. He paused long enough to grab her by the wrist - he didn’t want to hear her complaining that she was going to fall if he didn’t slow down this time - and pull her along behind him. “Come on.” He said gruffly. He led her back through the house, a different route this time. They reached what appeared to be the grand foyer of the mansion - large french doors with gaping windows to the sides of them, and sweeping marble staircase leading upwards located directly across the room. Kyros made for these stairs and started up - taking them two at a time with his long legs.
His room was on the third and top floor. It was more than just a bedroom though, it was an entire suite then nearly encompassed half the top floor of the place. At the top of the stairs, Kyros turned left and walked down the hall that ended quite abruptly - and sooner than one would have imagined - at a closed door. Kyros opened it and stood aside, pulling Essa by the wrist to move past him and into the sitting room of his private wing. He stepped in after her and shut the door behind him. He released her and turned to lock the door. He stared at the deadbolt though as he did. She could unlock it if she wanted. It didn’t require a key on this side. Fuck me. He narrowed his gaze in irritation. Hopefully the boss would give the go ahead to slit her throat and he wouldn’t have to worry about it after today. If not… he didn’t want to think about that right now. He turned on his heel and stalked past her, headed for the kitchenette across the way. He had liquor in the fridge and he really wanted a stiff drink right about now. “Don’t even think about unlocking that door.”
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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He rose a brow at the audacity to speak to him in such a way, quoting his own words and throwing them back in his face. It was true enough that Moretti had said she was a guest. But Kyros knew what he’d really meant, and he was certain the girl did as well; she was just showing off her spoiled privileged ass, he was sure. “The villain. Or it should have been, in any case. Heroes are weak and ruled by their hearts rather than their heads. It’s not practical that the hero would always win the day. Then again, good and evil are constructs invented to scare little kids into doing what they are told.” Callous. Matter-of-fact. Like he’d pondered this very question many times before. And in fact, he had. He hadn’t known his real father. Barely remembered his mother. He’d been bounced around the system so much, it took days for anyone to even notice he’d run away. Again. Good and evil didn’t exist in his world. There was just what was, and what would be necessary to survive it.
He tilted his head to the side, watching her as she removed her sweater and loosened the school uniform tie and the buttons of her shirt. Was she hot or just wanted out of the clothes? He sucked in a breath and averted his gaze. Maybe it was a bit warm outside. Fuck. Maybe he could pin her down somewhere in the house and be free to come back outside. He’d just have to check on her to make sure she didn’t try to off herself ahead of schedule. He stood suddenly and started for the house. He paused long enough to grab her by the wrist - he didn’t want to hear her complaining that she was going to fall if he didn’t slow down this time - and pull her along behind him. “Come on.” He said gruffly. He led her back through the house, a different route this time. They reached what appeared to be the grand foyer of the mansion - large french doors with gaping windows to the sides of them, and sweeping marble staircase leading upwards located directly across the room. Kyros made for these stairs and started up - taking them two at a time with his long legs.
His room was on the third and top floor. It was more than just a bedroom though, it was an entire suite then nearly encompassed half the top floor of the place. At the top of the stairs, Kyros turned left and walked down the hall that ended quite abruptly - and sooner than one would have imagined - at a closed door. Kyros opened it and stood aside, pulling Essa by the wrist to move past him and into the sitting room of his private wing. He stepped in after her and shut the door behind him. He released her and turned to lock the door. He stared at the deadbolt though as he did. She could unlock it if she wanted. It didn’t require a key on this side. Fuck me. He narrowed his gaze in irritation. Hopefully the boss would give the go ahead to slit her throat and he wouldn’t have to worry about it after today. If not… he didn’t want to think about that right now. He turned on his heel and stalked past her, headed for the kitchenette across the way. He had liquor in the fridge and he really wanted a stiff drink right about now. “Don’t even think about unlocking that door.”
He rose a brow at the audacity to speak to him in such a way, quoting his own words and throwing them back in his face. It was true enough that Moretti had said she was a guest. But Kyros knew what he’d really meant, and he was certain the girl did as well; she was just showing off her spoiled privileged ass, he was sure. “The villain. Or it should have been, in any case. Heroes are weak and ruled by their hearts rather than their heads. It’s not practical that the hero would always win the day. Then again, good and evil are constructs invented to scare little kids into doing what they are told.” Callous. Matter-of-fact. Like he’d pondered this very question many times before. And in fact, he had. He hadn’t known his real father. Barely remembered his mother. He’d been bounced around the system so much, it took days for anyone to even notice he’d run away. Again. Good and evil didn’t exist in his world. There was just what was, and what would be necessary to survive it.
He tilted his head to the side, watching her as she removed her sweater and loosened the school uniform tie and the buttons of her shirt. Was she hot or just wanted out of the clothes? He sucked in a breath and averted his gaze. Maybe it was a bit warm outside. Fuck. Maybe he could pin her down somewhere in the house and be free to come back outside. He’d just have to check on her to make sure she didn’t try to off herself ahead of schedule. He stood suddenly and started for the house. He paused long enough to grab her by the wrist - he didn’t want to hear her complaining that she was going to fall if he didn’t slow down this time - and pull her along behind him. “Come on.” He said gruffly. He led her back through the house, a different route this time. They reached what appeared to be the grand foyer of the mansion - large french doors with gaping windows to the sides of them, and sweeping marble staircase leading upwards located directly across the room. Kyros made for these stairs and started up - taking them two at a time with his long legs.
His room was on the third and top floor. It was more than just a bedroom though, it was an entire suite then nearly encompassed half the top floor of the place. At the top of the stairs, Kyros turned left and walked down the hall that ended quite abruptly - and sooner than one would have imagined - at a closed door. Kyros opened it and stood aside, pulling Essa by the wrist to move past him and into the sitting room of his private wing. He stepped in after her and shut the door behind him. He released her and turned to lock the door. He stared at the deadbolt though as he did. She could unlock it if she wanted. It didn’t require a key on this side. Fuck me. He narrowed his gaze in irritation. Hopefully the boss would give the go ahead to slit her throat and he wouldn’t have to worry about it after today. If not… he didn’t want to think about that right now. He turned on his heel and stalked past her, headed for the kitchenette across the way. He had liquor in the fridge and he really wanted a stiff drink right about now. “Don’t even think about unlocking that door.”
“You’re not wrong,” she answered with a shrug, sure her response would surprise him. “The hero shouldn’t always win. They need to fail at least sometimes. Otherwise it's just bad writing.” She leaned back slightly considering. “Plenty of villains are emotional though. Especially when things fail to go according to their plan. Just like heroes can be clever and practical.” She tilted her head slightly, considering him. “In kid’s stories, yeah, that is how it works. But in most stories, villains aren’t all evil and heroes aren’t all good. It should be more complex than that.”
Stories were her life. She felt passionately about them and it was clear in the way that her voice shifted to be softer, no sarcasm or irritation to be found. Just interest and intellect.
Maybe she had underestimated Kyros.
She was oblivious to the way he reacted to her attempt to get more comfortable in her attire. After all, she wasn’t used to people noticing her at all, let alone boys looking at her in that way. So it never even occurred to her that she could be having any sort of effect on him. As it was, his decision to move again seemed abrupt and startling. She barely managed to grab her discarded sweater and he pulled her along by the wrist. Though she said nothing, she was grateful for the adjustment, making it far easier to keep up with him, even if she did curse his long legs.
Well, except when it came to the stairs. “Kyros, please!” she huffed, her arm stretched far out ahead of her as he took the stairs two at a time and she struggled to manage one by one.
When they arrived at the top floor, he pulled her into a room... well, not a room so much as a suite apparently, she discovered once inside. His command about the door earned another eyeroll however. “Why do you insist on believing I’m an idiot? I don’t want to die, thank you very much.” She’d never escape on her own and trying would only escalate matters and see her dead sooner.
Essa draped her sweater over one of the chairs, pulling her tie off entirely. She looked over to him even as he headed to the kitchenette. She hesitated slightly, a faint blush coloring her skin. “Do you, um... do you maybe have anything I could change into? This uniform isn’t exactly... comfortable. I usually don’t wear it any longer than I have to.”
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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“You’re not wrong,” she answered with a shrug, sure her response would surprise him. “The hero shouldn’t always win. They need to fail at least sometimes. Otherwise it's just bad writing.” She leaned back slightly considering. “Plenty of villains are emotional though. Especially when things fail to go according to their plan. Just like heroes can be clever and practical.” She tilted her head slightly, considering him. “In kid’s stories, yeah, that is how it works. But in most stories, villains aren’t all evil and heroes aren’t all good. It should be more complex than that.”
Stories were her life. She felt passionately about them and it was clear in the way that her voice shifted to be softer, no sarcasm or irritation to be found. Just interest and intellect.
Maybe she had underestimated Kyros.
She was oblivious to the way he reacted to her attempt to get more comfortable in her attire. After all, she wasn’t used to people noticing her at all, let alone boys looking at her in that way. So it never even occurred to her that she could be having any sort of effect on him. As it was, his decision to move again seemed abrupt and startling. She barely managed to grab her discarded sweater and he pulled her along by the wrist. Though she said nothing, she was grateful for the adjustment, making it far easier to keep up with him, even if she did curse his long legs.
Well, except when it came to the stairs. “Kyros, please!” she huffed, her arm stretched far out ahead of her as he took the stairs two at a time and she struggled to manage one by one.
When they arrived at the top floor, he pulled her into a room... well, not a room so much as a suite apparently, she discovered once inside. His command about the door earned another eyeroll however. “Why do you insist on believing I’m an idiot? I don’t want to die, thank you very much.” She’d never escape on her own and trying would only escalate matters and see her dead sooner.
Essa draped her sweater over one of the chairs, pulling her tie off entirely. She looked over to him even as he headed to the kitchenette. She hesitated slightly, a faint blush coloring her skin. “Do you, um... do you maybe have anything I could change into? This uniform isn’t exactly... comfortable. I usually don’t wear it any longer than I have to.”
“You’re not wrong,” she answered with a shrug, sure her response would surprise him. “The hero shouldn’t always win. They need to fail at least sometimes. Otherwise it's just bad writing.” She leaned back slightly considering. “Plenty of villains are emotional though. Especially when things fail to go according to their plan. Just like heroes can be clever and practical.” She tilted her head slightly, considering him. “In kid’s stories, yeah, that is how it works. But in most stories, villains aren’t all evil and heroes aren’t all good. It should be more complex than that.”
Stories were her life. She felt passionately about them and it was clear in the way that her voice shifted to be softer, no sarcasm or irritation to be found. Just interest and intellect.
Maybe she had underestimated Kyros.
She was oblivious to the way he reacted to her attempt to get more comfortable in her attire. After all, she wasn’t used to people noticing her at all, let alone boys looking at her in that way. So it never even occurred to her that she could be having any sort of effect on him. As it was, his decision to move again seemed abrupt and startling. She barely managed to grab her discarded sweater and he pulled her along by the wrist. Though she said nothing, she was grateful for the adjustment, making it far easier to keep up with him, even if she did curse his long legs.
Well, except when it came to the stairs. “Kyros, please!” she huffed, her arm stretched far out ahead of her as he took the stairs two at a time and she struggled to manage one by one.
When they arrived at the top floor, he pulled her into a room... well, not a room so much as a suite apparently, she discovered once inside. His command about the door earned another eyeroll however. “Why do you insist on believing I’m an idiot? I don’t want to die, thank you very much.” She’d never escape on her own and trying would only escalate matters and see her dead sooner.
Essa draped her sweater over one of the chairs, pulling her tie off entirely. She looked over to him even as he headed to the kitchenette. She hesitated slightly, a faint blush coloring her skin. “Do you, um... do you maybe have anything I could change into? This uniform isn’t exactly... comfortable. I usually don’t wear it any longer than I have to.”