Leather Liberation// Thomas Hewitt x reader

chapter 7: A Promise

Authors note: there's some slight nsfw in this chapter. I've already put the CW in the description of the book, but just in case anyone missed it, I'm putting it here. There will not be warnings before any future sex scenes.

Laura slams the phone down on the table. Tears stab at her eyes, threatening to pour out in front of Timothee. The man reaches for her hand, consoling her.

"They haven't found anything. No bodies, no trace of who took them. Any tire tracks were blown away by the wind all ready. " She releases a shaky sigh, head falling onto the table.

"They'll find her, I know they will." Timothee says, rubbing his thumb on her palm.

Laura grumbles, pulling her hand away from his.

"It's getting late. Why don't you head home, Tim?"

He pauses, before nodding. After a few seconds, he's out the door.

Almost as soon as the door clicks shut, her head falls into her hands, heavy sobs reverberating in her chest.

She sobs until her face gets tingly with lack of oxygen, a migraine peeking at her temple. Her eyes start to run dry, to the point where she has to splash her face in the kitchen sink.

She sent Timothee away to be alone. And to be honest, there's a part of her that resents him. Unfairly, she knows. But If he hadn't taken her out to eat, she wouldve stayed at the festival with y/n.

She resents herself even more. If she stayed, there was a chance the two of them would've gotten out of there before disaster struck.

The day is Wednesday. Three days after the festival. That Monday morning, she read in the newspaper about the disaster. Immediately, she felt an icy dread spread in her chest.

She called Y/n a hundred times. Eventually, an official list of missing persons was released, and y/n was on it. Laura was out of a job now, but that wasn't even a thought on her mind.

She twists a black feather around in her hand, one found from the scene. It was something she sneakily picked off the ground when an officer wasn't working. She had been brought in for questioning, and didn't want to leave without something to pocket.

The feather doesn't shine or gleam. It's just a feather. There's no sparkle or worth in currency, and yet, Laura holds it to her chest as if it's the most valuable thing in the world. And to her, it is.

She sniffles, holding back another batch of tears. It's then she makes a promise to a silent room. She'll find Y/n herself, no matter how long it takes.

Meanwhile, Y/n sits on the floor of the dirty, damp basement, Praying that Laura does not run into her capturers. She instead hopes Laura scurries out of the county like a coward, never turning her back.

But deep inside, she knows that won't happen. Laura never wanted to leave Poth. Not when y/n scurried away to college, and certainly not when she's been kidnapped.

And, with 100% surity, y/n knew that if Laura found the house, she would run in recklessly, get captured, and killed.

Already, another batch of bodies have been brought into the basement. Three adults. A woman, and two men. The woman and one of the men hang now from the hooks, drying out. Their corpses fill the room with the sweetly sickening stench of blood. The other man lays on the table.

Heavy footsteps bring y/n out of her daze. Thick fingers grab her chin softly, lifting it up so her eyes meet their owner. It's Thomas. She sighs with relief.