22 - Trepidation

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After making eye contact, and receiving your challenging stare, the pair exchanged an uncertain glance. Their disconcerted expressions filled you with a sense of satisfaction, for it meant that they were expecting a more timid and frightened demeanour from their abductee.

That they were underestimating you.

As the distance between you and the door reduced, a thought struck you. How were you going to defend yourself? You were going to an unknown area and be in the company of dangerous men, two of whom were right in front of you. What if they planned to knock you out once you got there? Or what if they knock you out the second you stepped outside?

You stopped. 'A weapon. I need a weapon.'

But what weapon? You had none in your possession. Perhaps you could stab them with a pen, if the situation called for it, but you left it in the satchel bag that remained in your room. There was also the common kitchen on the hotel's second floor, usable by all its patrons and chock-full of knives, but it closed an hour ago.

However, that also begged the question of what would happen if your weapon was discovered. Or, if you were to injure a thug, would it truly incapacitate them? Like in many action movies you watched, where the protagonist wounds their abductor and attempts to run away, would they break into a chase after you and put you in a much worse state as a way of punishment?

They would, without a doubt.

With you stationed only a few feet away from the door, engrossed in your reflections, the men outside shot you a questioning glance. Impatience filled the shorter man, as he returned to his obnoxious tapping.

The precipitous noise made you blink back into reality. Rapidly moving their arms back and forth, they urgently gestured for you to hurry up. While their bodies moved along with their appendages, you suddenly noticed the glint of a knife in each of their pant pockets.

No, you couldn't let yourself be defenceless like this.

"Wait a minute," you mouthed to them. Swivelling on your heel, you sprinted into the hallway and muted out the antsy knocks behind you, growing softer and softer.

You burst through the door. The sight of the extravagant mess chafed your nerves but you ignored it.

'First, my coat and pen.' You bent down and grabbed your coat, slipping into it and adjusted the collar. You then reached forward and flicked open the satchel bag. Clutching the pen, you tucked it inside your hidden inner coat pocket for easy access. 'What next?'

Fastidiously scanning the cluttered premises, you spotted your phone nearby and wasted no time in placing it inside your hidden pocket. Unable to find another suitable weapon that you could conceal, you stepped out into the hallway again.

You glanced down and saw your hands shaking. Raising them to your central vision only worsened the tremors.

'What's this? Why are they- No, I'm not scared. I'm not scared! This...this is nothing.' You gulped. '...Nothing like what I've dealt with before, that is. But never mind that.'

Returning them to your sides while clenching them tightly, you sucked in a breath and made your way back to the front entrance.

Careful not to provoke the bell, you turned the handle and slowly opened the door, slipping out through the small gap. Once you stepped onto the front porch, you closed the door behind you with a soft click. Honestly, you wanted to make as much noise as possible, to alert the hotel staff and patrons of your danger. But considering the unpredictable nature of these loan sharks, you had no idea what consequences pulling a move like that would incur.

Now that you thought about it, one of your escorts were making quite a bit of noise, yet it did not stir a single patron nor staff member. Was everyone that much of a deep sleeper, or were you and Sara the only people here? Since you saw Sara walking towards the far reaches of the corridor, the loud knocks could have been outside of her hearing range. But there were hotel rooms closer to the mouth of the hallway, well within the scope of the cacophony.

So where did everyone else go?

"Oi!" A thug - the short, annoying one - spat. "Where did you go? What took you so long, eh?"

"I, um, just got my coat. It's cold out here, don't you think?"

"It sure is," hummed the taller one holding the large umbrella. "Y/N L/N, right?"

Resuming an air of boldness, you nodded.

You swore you saw his eyes gleam for half a second. The stout thug beside him nodded as well and fished a phone out of his tattered pockets.

"Boss, we got her." A gruff voice emanated from his mouth. "Mhm...okay, yep. We'll be there as fast as we can." As soon as he cut the call, he looked you up and down with a scowl. "You know how this works, lady. No running away, m'kay?"

"I know, and I won't."

"You better not. Come."

Just as his bulky hand went to grab your arm, you pulled away and glowered at him.

"Don't touch me," you said through clenched teeth. "I can walk perfectly fine on my own."

"Stupid bi–"

"Ah, ah, ah. Language." Umbrella guy wagged a finger at his partner, turning his sly smile towards you. "Unfortunately, we have only one umbrella and the three of us to share it amongst. It'd be a pain for any of us to get a cold." He eyed your orange dress, drenched with a couple of stray droplets hanging from the hem. "You want to get a change of clothes?"

"No, I'm good. It's drier than it looks," you lied. With the fabric clinging to your skin like plaster, you would have changed out of it in a heartbeat, if only the circumstances were different.

"If you say so."

'Hmm, though he's still a thug, at least this one is civilised.' You glanced him over. If it weren't for his occupation and the dire situation, you would've acknowledged his surprisingly handsome features. That is, save for his deathly pale skin and the hefty eyebags under messy ginger hair.

You exhaled through your nose. "Fine."

As soon as you stepped under the canopy of the umbrella, the three of you started walking. Your body was squished between the two scruffy men on either side of you, both of whom struggled to avoid the icy touch of the relentless downpour. To regain some personal space, your shoulders hunched and your arms hugged firmly around your torso, yet it was to no avail.

You bit back a huff. Your comfort was not of the utmost importance right now. Looking down at your drenched boots and the stony road underneath, you recounted the events that took place and what you learned.

'So, he took 400k from Wellington then...went bankrupt? Where did the money go? When did this happen? Wait, it was probably a few months ago when he started acting weird.' Your jaw clenched. 'Then...the thugs gave him this time to recover the money, but that didn't happen. So they did something to him...and now they want something from me...? Oh god, what did they do to him?'

The worst-case scenario popped into your mind. Your breath hitched and your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach.

'...Don't tell me. Did they...could they have...killed...'

You couldn't even finish the thought. Shaking your head, your [h/c] locks thwacking the two henchmen, you tightened your fists. No, you wouldn't let pessimism invade your mind again. For all you knew, Cyril could be safe and healthy - or, at the very least, alive. He must be in a tough situation that rendered him unable to contact you. That had to be the case. You raised a hand and placed it upon your beret. Feeling the soft wool under your fingertips eased the palpitations in your core.

Neither you nor the thugs spoke as you all trudged onward. A tense, unabating quiet stretched on for some time, save for the pitter-patter in the background, until you broke it.

"How far away is our destination, exactly?"

"What's it matter to you, eh?" The short one on your left sneered, scratching the bulging wart on his nose.

You ignored him and turned to the slim man on your right, who gripped onto the umbrella's shaft. Due to his considerable height, you had to crane your neck upwards, only to barely see his bloodshot orbs peek out from his puffy eyebags. From the corner of his eyes, he regarded you with a bored look and shrugged.

"I think it took around half an hour to get to the hotel by foot, give or take."

'Half an hour...in the rain?' Your legs ached merely at the thought of walking non-stop for so long and in such weather.

Watching your eyes widen ever so slightly, he chuckled. "Don't worry. We'll take breaks if you get tired. It ain't a problem for us though. Isn't that right, Tony?"

Tony's beady eyes bulged out of his sockets as he sputtered, "Breaks...? The hell you on about, Misha?! Boss will have our heads if we come late, let alone if we delay on purpose. He'd cut off each and every one of our limbs, then feed 'em to the dogs!"

"If he finds out." Misha winked, lips spread into a lazy smirk.

"For fuck's sake! I've had it with you and your dumb attitude."

"And yet you stick with me anyway~."

You glanced back and forth between the bickering individuals. A drawn sigh left your lips. Was this really how the 30 minutes will go by? Speaking of which, did they not find any other form of transport? Could they not afford it?

The single thought bred a flock of questions, all of which simmered at the tip of your tongue. If this period of time was unavoidable, you might as well make the best use of it. You fortified your steely mask.

"Can I ask you something?"

Your utterance cut the two off. Not expecting you to talk, they flinched but quickly composed themselves.

"Heh, certainly not–"

"–Sure."

They spoke at the same time. Tony was taken aback and wore a livid expression similar to before, whereas Misha remained lackadaisical yet quirked an eyebrow.

"Lord knows you must be high, Misha! Boss told us to not talk with her very much, remember?"

"Eh, I don't see a problem with it."

"Tch, 'course you don't. You don't give a shit about anything or anyone! Don't even know why the Boss hired you in the first place."

Rolling his eyes, Misha threw his half-lidded gaze at you, a small smile on his face. "Ask away."

You pursed your lips. Knitting your eyebrows, you mentally sorted your queries in order of what currently bothered you the most.

"What do you want from me?"

"Your co-operation. A cute smile would be nice too."

"That's not what I- Never mind. Once I get there, what are you going to do to me?"

"Depends entirely on you." He leaned closer, your shoulders pressed too close for comfort. "So be a good girl, okay?"

'Oh great, another creep.' Your deadpan expression betrayed none of the disgust that bubbled inside. "How many of you are here working for Wellington, and for how long?"

Your lack of reaction, or your poor attempt of an unfazed stance, only fuelled his amusement. "Ah...about 35 or so, and just over a week.

'So they must've come on the same train that I did. Unless...'

Was there a chance that Wellington, somehow, had workers who were townspeople themselves? Or, at the very least, connections? The possibility was unlikely, considering he himself was an outsider, but even so...there was only one way to find out.

"Are you all outsiders or are some of you from town?"

Misha stiffened. You witnessed the first trace of emotion that swept across his features - a mixture of sorrow, agitation and loneliness.

"...All I can say is that most of us were on the train. Make of that what you will."

'What does he mean by that? It was a simple question, so why does he sound so cryptic? Surely, no townspeople can get on the train since they're not allowed to leave...right?'

Racking your brain further, a single name popped into mind.

"Do you know anyone called Boris?"

"'Boris'? What kind of a name is that?" Tony heckled. "Though it sounds an awful lot like 'Bob'– Wait." His smug grin widened as he turned to his partner. "Misha, did he ever say which one he picked?"

"Who– Wait...no, he didn't." Realisation dawned upon him, causing his lips to curl upwards in wicked amusement. "Heh, don't tell me..."

'What's happening?' You looked between the two men, who were quite visibly holding back their laughter, but no trace of an answer could be picked up from their humoured expressions. Like an inside joke which you had no part in.

"You gotta give him credit where it's due." Tony wiped a tear away. " 'Least it ain't as dumb as his original name."

In between intentionally loud coughs, Misha snickered, "Says the guy named 'Tony'."

"...Shut UP, will ya?!"

'This is going nowhere,' you thought, so you quickly moved on to the next question.

"Was...was everyone on the train, who is in your 'group', solely there to find me?"

"Yep." He popped the 'p' sound. "Your brother screwed up sorely, pissing off both our boss and our boss's boss. Even after knowing about their paper-thin impatience, he still had the guts to go all 'I'm so sorry but I need more time' and 'Please, I'll do anything!' on them."

That sounded nothing like Cyril.

Of course, the thug could've been exaggerating but...it wasn't like those words by themselves were unusual. Almost any person under a lot of pressure for time would naturally urge for an extended deadline, especially if the stakes were high. But now, that person was your brother. The sheer notion of someone as dignified as Cyril L/N putting himself below another and begging...?

It felt so wrong.

No...this entire situation was wrong. Frustrating. Sickening

A hand slapped your back. "Frown like that any longer and you'll get wrinkles, like ol' Tony over there."

"Excuse you, Mr I-haven't-slept-since-I-left-the-womb! You're in your 20s, yet you look half-dead."

"Pssht, at least my eyebags are the only thing wrong with my face. In fact, it's the only thing keeping my 9.5 from a 10, since my skin apparently makes me look like a vampire." A wide toothy grin. "...A hot vampire."

"Someone kill this man already."

"Oooh, is that a threat? From Midget Tony? I'm sooo scared."

"Don't poke fun at me! My height is inversely proportional to my brute strength–"

"HA! So you admit it! That you're short! Ahh, this is priceless. When we get there, I'm going to tell the rest of the gang."

"Gang? That's funny. It almost sounds like you have friends."

Despite how wrong it felt, and although it fell as fast as it appeared, the corner of your mouth quirked upwards. You didn't know what it was about their juvenile banter - could be the witty jabs, the camaraderie hiding underneath, or even Tony's animated expressions. Nonetheless, it almost made you forget about who they were working for and the place you were heading. Almost. Their petty yet playful remarks felt strangely familiar. Like the teasing that would go on over coffee with your workmates, or the whispers and hushed laughter during meetings with your boss.

It felt normal.

It felt...scarily human.

The idea came out of nowhere, but it occurred to you that these criminals had lives outside of their 'profession'. They could develop meaningful connections - hugging a loved one with one hand while sinning with the other. They hold their own happiness close to their chests while tearing away the happiness from others. From good, law-abiding and respectable members of society.

Like your brother.

'It's...not fair...'

A dark feeling swirled in your core. Perhaps it was the rain, or the long walk, that allowed time for it to fester. Or perhaps it laid its roots long ago, bolstered by the anxiety that had pent up in the last week, and you only noticed its sprouts now. In any case, you had enough. Gritting your teeth, a shadow fell over your eyes.

"Ah dear." Misha pouted. "Thought I could get you to smile by lightening the mood, but–"

"–How much time left until we get there?"

Your voice was cold. An octave lower than usual, your question came out as more of a demand for an answer. Misha was silent, sparing you a long glance before a grin crept across his face.

"Not long now."

With that, the three of you continued to walk in silence.

----

A steel door, littered with scratches and rust marks, faced you. It was the only door within the dark, narrow alleyway that you were led in. An extension from the rooftops of the buildings on either side of the alley had formed a canopy, protecting you from the rain.

You sighed in relief once you were uncoupled from the two thugs. Regaining your bubble of personal space, you stretched your arms and watched the two men knock on the door.

A moment passed before you heard the creak of the hinges. The door opened, revealing a timid, chubby man.

"Fi...Finally, you guys are here! Boss had been yelling about–"

"–Wait, before that," Tony chuckled, "did you or did you not choose Boris as your alias?"

'Boris? Alias?' Your eyes widened in alarm. 'No way...'

The man at the door blanched. "G-Guys, you see–"

"Gee, couldn't you have come up with a more discreet one?" asked Misha.

"No, wait! You don't understand! You see, I forgot to pick one beforehand a-and...and I bumped into the boy who put me on the spot and–"

"Yeah, yeah, no one cares!" Tony barked. "Let us in already, Bob."

Bob.

So that was his name.

Your lips compressed together and the corner of your eye twitched. You knew he had something to do with this! If only you had followed through with your gut feeling before, then you would have stopped Asher from 'meeting up' with him. You could have prevented all of this from happening. As much as your rational side reasoned that there was no point in crying over spilt milk, your emotional side thrived off your brimming anxiety and won the debate, adding to your frustration.

Guilt tainted your chest once again. You narrowed your eyes and projected your anger at yourself towards the mouse-like scoundrel, intensifying the antipathy you already harboured towards him.

Sensing your sharp gaze, Bob looked at you and immediately turned away. He shuffled to the side, away from your field of vision, and allowed you three to enter.

"Let's go, then." Releasing a heavy sigh, Misha turned to you and nodded towards the door. He headed inside and disappeared into the darkness. Tony followed suit.

You took a deep breath. 'So, this is it. Remember, Y/N, the main thing is to make sure Asher is safe and escape with him, but also get any answers you can. Be as quick as possible.' If only you were trained to handle these kinds of situations, you mulled. Who knew whether your rudimentary plan involved the right steps to take? Who knew–

"Um...Y/N?" Bob peeked out from the doorway. "You can come in, you know."

Fists clenched at your sides, you strode inside the building and breezed past Bob.

Neither you nor the thugs were aware of the pair of ochre eyes that had been watching the ordeal from a distance.

----

Finally done with today's shift, which mainly involved inspecting the town's borders, Emilio splashed through the flooded cobble road. The water inundated the soles of his sandals and occasionally brushed his toes, the uncomfortable sensation making him shudder at times. In his hands was an

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