a deadly storm, an unsolved disappearance, and a small town brimming with secrecy;
an outcast girl, a boy who only knows how to hide, and the world against them;
what could go wrong?
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just a warning -- this chapter may be a little intense for some people, there is a description of death in here. please take care of yourself if that isn't something you're comfortable reading atm. xx
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"Hello, Nathaniel."
Cold metal presses against her skull. "Phone," he instructs, his voice clipped. "Now. Pass it behind your head. Don't turn around."
Boo complies, her hands shaking as she hands him her phone. "You're supposed to be on duty."
Nathaniel chuckles darkly. "Took some leave, I felt I earned a break. I don't appreciate you trying to ruin my night off."
She can't answer him; her heart is in her throat, and she's afraid that one wrong word will set him off. He nudges the gun against her head, prompting her to gasp instinctively. "Let's go. Turn around, slowly."
Once more, she obeys him. When she turns, her whole body trembles at the sight; his face, cast in a sick green glow from the moonlight filtering in through a tiny garage window, is incredibly close to hers. She can smell his rotten breath from here; can practically feel the death radiating from him. Frozen into submission, she allows him to bind her hands in front of her with his handcuffs.
"Full circle. I've waited too long for this," he says in a hushed voice. He taps the muzzle of the gun against Boo's forehead, tsking quietly, and tears silently begin to leak from the corners of her eyes. "But first, let's talk."
He orders her to sit on the concrete ground while he settles on top of the wooden card table, propping his feet up onto the chair. Black eyes watch her as he pulls a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his shirt pocket. She knows he's baiting her; willing to provide her answers because he knows she won't live to see morning light. Boo is willing to play along, if only to buy herself time. Damien deserves for someone else to know his fate, whether or not hers is the same.
"Alright. How did you convince Warren to help you the first time?"
Nathaniel smirks coldly. "Tell me, Boo, what are the three oldest motives in the book?"
Her blood turns to ice in her veins as he sneers her name. Even a nickname as ill-born as hers sounds like sin in the mouth of someone like Nathaniel. "Money, sex, revenge."
"Very good," he nods. His temper now quelled for an indeterminate amount of time, Nathaniel places the filtered end of a cigarette between his thin lips. "Warren is an honorable man," he mutters, flicking on his lighter. Yellow light dances across his colorless skin. No reflection sits in his eyes, any semblance of color devoured by the emotionless black of his irises. "But he's a businessman before anything else."
Boo listens closely over her pounding heart as Nathaniel leans his cigarette into the dancing flame. Sparks ignite and he inhales deeply, shoving the lighter back into his pocket before blowing out a wispy stream of smoke. "Being who I am around here puts me in the delicious position of knowing everything about every-fucking-one." He smirks coldly. "When I heard that good ol' Warren had run into financial trouble, I knew all I had to do was make him an offer he couldn't refuse."
