The Silver Serpent - A Heist Novel

Guess Who's Back

I wake up with a groan, squeezing my eyes closed as I try to fight the raging headache I'm greeted with. When I attempt to press my palm to my temple, I find that my wrist cannot move further than an inch. I pull again and feel the cold bite of steel handcuffs against my wrists. Yanking, twisting, baring my teeth, I struggle against the restraints, trying as hard as I can to break free. A droplet of blood falls from my forehead to the beautiful carpet beneath my feet. My legs feel numb, and I try as hard as I can to move them, but I can't. What'd he do to me?

I gulp with fear and yank against my holdings, trying to pull the poles that the other side of my shackles are attached to out of the wall. When my father notices, he swiftly moves to where I am and places the gun under my chin.

"Ah, ah, ah. Wouldn't want to wear ourselves out before we even begin, would we?" He tilts his head to the side, mouth slightly open. I freeze, my head tilted up, but my eyes directed down towards the weapon. Show no fear, show no fear. I take a deep breath and look up from the gun to his eyes with unamusement.

"C-Come to... f-finish the job?" I ask, trying to make a gesture to the gun but can barely make a flick of the wrist due to my restraints. "Y-You know, I've always wondered what a pair of these felt like," I flip my hands up, ignoring the cold steel under my jaw.

"Do you ever shut up?" My father demands, using the butt of his pistol to hit my mouth. A trail of blood leaks out of my lip, and I attempt to lick it away.

"Not really, no. So, what's the deal? A-are you going to k-kill me?" I inquire, resting my head on my right shoulder.

"Not necessarily. I'm here to do a job for my boss. Find Il Serpente D'Argento. And it looks like I have. See, it's nothing personal." My father cleans off his gun, then smiles at me.

"N-nothing personal? I'm your son!" I yell, pulling against the handcuffs as I try to get to him. "You know Tellio will kill me if you hand me over to him."

"You've become a brilliant young man. I guess my lessons really did pay off," He smiles, his voice not sarcastic in the least. I stop struggling for a moment in rage and confusion. Then, the rage takes over, and I fight against the handcuffs with everything in me.

"You what?" I roar, trying to reach him. "I am who I am because of me, not because of you! You've done nothing to make me the man I am!" My wrists are tender from the exertion of resisting the shackles.

"Still got your mother's fiery temper, I see," His lips curl into a disappointed frown.

"My mother's... are you kidding me? You're the one who beat me for nothing!" I frown in confusion. He laughs, and my frown grows deeper.

"I wouldn't say nothing. I mean, look at you! You were a freak! But, take your nails, for example. Do you bite them anymore?" He asks, gesturing to my hand.

"Well, no, but-" I begin, straightening up.

"And your posture is much better. You're little stutter that James tried to pass off as cute has somewhat faded; you've stopped scratching and fidgeting. Why do you think that is? I fixed you. I taught you about the world. You should be thanking me!" He argues, pointing out all the habits I used to have as a child that he beat and bullied me out of.

"Thanking you?" My eyes widen in disbelief.

"Are you going to repeat what I say all night, or are you going to contribute to the conversation? Hm? Like I was saying, I've fixed you! Only thing is that horrible hair. What did I tell you about dying it?" He asks, pulling at my hair.

"That I'll look like even more of a freak than I already am," I mumble sheepishly, hanging my head, and suddenly I'm that scared little kid again.

"Very good. I'll be right back, you just," He snickers as he looks at the handcuffs, "stay where you are."