Subdue-X

If It Comes To It

I pretended to use the washroom but instead, I found myself lying on the cold bathroom floor, my arms draped over my face. My chest tightened with panic, but I was too exhausted to react. The hum of the ocean drifted through the beach house, mixing with the sound of Chris pacing in the bedroom. His footsteps echoed softly through the open screen doors, the air heavy with the scent of saltwater. It was late—nearly morning.

Through the thin walls, I could hear him on the phone with Pin. My heart sank as I strained to listen.

"My people had enough numbers to push the intruders out of the complex. I’m giving you the go to return," Pin’s voice came through, steady but impersonal.

Christian’s eyes stayed locked on mine earlier as he had spoken to him. Now, I could only imagine the way his face tightened in response to Pin's commands this time.

Pin's voice echoed again, more assertive this time, "Christian, I understand your hesitation, but she is under my charge."

The exhaustion in Christian’s voice was impossible to ignore. "Whether I agree with you or not, we have nowhere else to go."

Pin paused before responding with a cold indifference. "Tough luck."

I heard the line go dead. Silence stretched between us, lingering in the space between my tension and Christian’s frustration. I pulled myself off the floor, limbs trembling slightly, and opened the door. Chris stood by the screen doors, his back to me, bare chest, his revolver in hand. He shook the sand and dirt off it, wiping it down with his soaked shirt, trying to wring it out simultaneously. His shoulders were tense, the muscles tight with frustration and fatigue.

I stepped into the room, my feet heavy. "He has say?" I asked, searching his face for an answer, something to hold onto. Why should we listen to him? Why can’t we just jump countries?

Christian’s eyes met mine, sharp and unwavering. "I can’t put that into words," he muttered.

"Can you try?" I pressed.

His gaze darkened, eyes narrowing slightly. "We have to trust someone," he said, the words grating like metal on stone. "And he doesn’t want you dead."

I bit back the instinct to scoff, my eyes flickering away from his intense stare. I couldn’t trust anyone. Not Pin. Not anyone who had kept me captive. "I don’t trust anyone," I said, barely above a whisper.

"And how is that going for you?" he asked, voice flat, but his eyes gleamed with something darker, colder. He moved closer, his breath shallow, matching the ocean’s rhythm outside.

The silence stretched again, but this time it felt suffocating. He was inspecting me, studying every crack in my armor. His eyes softened just slightly, then grew sharp again as he watched me glance away.

"You always look away," he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. "Why?"

I didn’t have an answer. Instead, I kept my gaze on the floor, hiding the stress that flickered through me, knowing he could already see it.

The low rumble of the airplane engines was constant, but it did little to settle the unease curling in my stomach. Chris had been on the phone with Pin for only a few minutes, once again, but his voice had started to rise, something that rarely happened when he was on a call. I shifted in my seat, watching him carefully.

“What do you mean Grey is acting on it?” Chris’s voice was sharp, his eyes narrowing as he gripped the phone tighter.

My heart skipped a beat. I didn’t know much about Grey, only that his name has always been lurking in the background, but Chris’s reaction told me everything I needed to know—this was bad. He was bad.