Beretta (MC#1)

Chapter 35- Her

Ice. Cold. 

Fucking Ice and cold. Should've been expecting this really. 

" Crow!" , my teeth chattered together in a weirdly melodious tuck, tuck tuck.  "What is the fucking meaning of this?"

No matter how small and inconspicuous I tried to make myself, the ice in my chest wouldn't thaw. I was freezing from the inside out and nothing I did seemed to stop it. 

"You know this won't work on me, don't you?", my vision followed the tendrils of breath escaping around my lips. The fogged up breath seemed to take some of my soul with it as it rose upwards only to disperse within seconds. Just like my resolve, it slipped away. 

Time had no meaning here. Some days, I regained consciousness to find sunlight spilling in from the small crack in the stone wall- a window, it was supposed to be. Other days, I shivered in pitch blackness. 

My ears perked up at what sounded like an army marching down towards the cell. I didn't fear much, just that I would give in to his demands. My time here had not only weakened me physically but also mentally and it was becoming increasingly difficult to withhold information Crow demanded each time he was here. Every agony-ridden moment just made me want to beg for death. 

"Beretta, you're still here?", he asked in mock wonder. The men flanking him quickly found positions as he grinned at my half-naked form, swinging from the ceiling. 

I was too busy shivering for the life of me but a few moments later I was being lowered towards the ground. 

As soon as my feet touched the ground, I collapsed into a boneless, shivering heap on the ground. My feet and arms were pulled back to be bound again but at least some sensation returned to my arms. 

"I didn't know you would fear my absence so much, Crow" I rasped out with as much sass I could muster. 

"You know I miss you when I'm away"

"So, what brings you here?", I tilted my head curiously, ignoring the slight twitch in his jaw. What more could he do, anyway?

"Where the fuck are the Reaper's Disciples, Beretta?"

"The what now?", I drawled. My brows furrowed in confusion and if I did know any better, I would've heeded his warning. "That's quite a name. Reaper's-"

"Beretta, don't make this any harder on yourself".Crow leaned back in the chair his men brought him. From my position, he could be the God amongst men with all the power he held in that moment. But I simply looked on in mock innocence. He wouldn't get an inch from me today. 

"You know I found out something quite interesting the other day", he straightened the lapels of his signature-grey suit jacket. 

 "I found that the Russian leader- what's his name", he tapped his fingers as if he struggled to remember the name of his sworn enemy. 

"Roman Mikhailov, Sir", one of the men supplied.

"Yes. Roman Mikhailov. Imagine my surprise when I found out yet another one of your targets was safe and healthy. He did send me my wife's head as a gift, but that's besides the point, isn't it?"

For the first time since he stepped into the room, I saw real anguish play across his face. Only a fool would accept that as Crow's moment of weakness. The man didn't give a horse's ass about his wife. Everything he showed the world was a part of his carefully controlled facade. 

"My condolences, Crow"

"Condolences, indeed. But you see now I need to reiterate", Crow rose up and buttoned our his precious jacked,  "So, I'll ask you again, where are the Disciples hiding Roman Mikhailov?" 

I contemplated his question as he stared me down from his higher vantage point. If I didn't answer, this torture would continue. But if i did, I could easily gain importance and negotiate better treatment until death. 

So I said, "No idea, hun" 

The fury that lit up his frame was almost worth all the things that came after. Almost.