Growing Fires with Old Ashes

31- Enemy

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Atlas.

Cold.

The only thing I feel is this bitterly cold breeze flowing against my bare back.

This isn't what hell is supposed to feel like. Hell is hot. When you're in hell, you're supposed to feel the scorching heat and the humid air. Not a cool breeze coursing past you.

I open my eyes only to find myself in a pitch-black room. The only things I can feel are the cold concrete floor bringing its temperature through my socks and the sharp metal piercing through my limbs. Probably a chain of some sort tying me to the wooden chair I'm sitting in. My chest and back are bare, but my legs aren't. My shirt has been taken off.

The chilly breeze is coming from above me, flowing through the large room, coursing past my arms and to my legs, finally meeting the floor.

I turn my head in the direction of a dripping noise coming from a corner. With my eyes slowly getting used to the darkness, I can identify a water pipe, slowly oozing out its insides.

The realisation that I'm locked up and that our original plan failed just came. We were supposed to catch their heir, not the other way around.

Fuck. Tony is going to fucking kill me.

Their new heir took me by surprise. They were fast and technical, always having their next move in their head. And by the looks of it, they were pretty small, but not too small, maybe 5.5 ft. Their legs moving very fast, almost not allowing you to exactly pinpoint where they were.

But there was one weird thing. Their hands. Their hands were tiny, too tiny for a male.

A soft voice somewhere in another room confirms my thoughts.

"Deberías haber visto su cara cuando agarré su polla." [You should've seen his face when I grabbed his dick.] She laughs. The heir is one hundred percent female. There isn't another way.

My thought goes back to the little Spanish Dominic taught me. I can almost, almost understand what the person is saying. 'You should've seen his face when I grabbed his ...' The last word is the only word I don't understand.

Fuck, Dominic. He better not be dead when I get out of this fucking place. Because if he is, I will resurrect him and kill him again.

"Puedo entrar ahí?" A male voice now speaking. This is a simple sentence I can fully understand. 'May I go in there?' Probably the male talking to their heir.

"Diablos no. Yo voy a entrar y solo si te llamo tú lo haces." I think I'm in love with this girl's voice. The way she says 'Hell no. I'm going in and only if I call you, you do.' full with dominance and our conversation together last evening has something to it. Something I love.

Something that I've heard before-

The door where the two people were behind opens, allowing a full stream of light to shock me with its brightness. A silhouette appears in the door frame. She uses her right arm to lean with her whole weight against the frame and her left leg on the opposite side of the frame, perfectly showing all her curves.

The bright light behind her not letting me identify her face, but I've seen those curves before.

The woman whose curves belong to takes three steps forwards. I only count them because it's the only thing I can actually see. My eyes look back up from her feet to her face. Following the beautiful curves this person owns. A flowy red dress covering them.