𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐭 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐞

10|| Nicotine

Celeste / January 23
•••

Dante's sidekick has been trying to get me to talk for seven days now.

There's no daylight or anything else to tell time, but my natural clock has been keeping track.

Two guards woke me up today by forcing a dry piece of bread in my mouth and hanging me up to the ceiling again.

They're actually quite nice here.

They let me sleep on the ground and only chain me up during the day. They make sure I eat enough to survive and they even bring me clean water.

The only thing that's bothering me is the strap I'd put around my chest as a disguise.

They hadn't given me new clothes or an opportunity to clean myself and despite not being hung up all the time, my wrist were still always tightly cuffed together.

So my tits had been pressed down for more than a week now, and it was starting to get uncomfortable.

"Liking the breakfast?" one of the men asks.

The one chaining my wrist above my head snickers, but I'm not sure why.

Sometimes, they randomly ask caring questions like these. I'm too tired to start figuring out if they're being genuine or not each time a situation like this occurs, so I just ignore them.

"I heard she's Finley's daughter."

A voice saying Lester's name snaps me out of my thoughts.

The man that had secured my chains shakes his head. "Nah," he says. "Face like that could never be related to that ugly fuck."

My vision blanks in rage and next thing I know, I've got my legs wrapped around the man's neck, snapping it before he could cry for help. His lifeless body drops to the ground and the other guard stalk towards me with his taser in hand.

My tiptoes brush against the floor as I walk back for as much as possible before I run towards the fuming man. I jump, using my hands to climb up on the chains above me to get on the right level to kick him in his throat.

He makes a strangled sound, taser falling next to him as he grabs onto his throat. I kicked his Adam's apple back, causing him to choke on the thing and by the looks of it – it was quite a painful experience.

My smile drops and so does my body as a hot sting explodes through my upper leg. The chains holding my wrist rattle loudly as they catch me and my knee instantly give out when I try to stand.

"Merde," I curse, watching a stream of blood slide out of a tiny hole in my jeans.

Someone shot me.

I'd never been shot before. Sure, I'd been shot at before, but a light graze had been the closest a bullet had ever gotten to my body.

I look up, absolutely furious and my temper only worsens when Dante Alessi stands before me with a smoking gun in his hand. He glances at the choking Italian in front of me and nods his head at his sidekick with glasses.

"Take him to the doctor."

I raise my uninjured leg to put my foot on the man's chin, snapping his head so hard to the right that his bones give out – and so does his heart.

I give Dante a look that says 'at least he's not chocking anymore' and anger cracks through that unreadable stone face of his when his jaw clenches.

He quickly orders something in Italian and within two minutes the two dead bodies are out of my cell, leaving us together surrounded by four walls.

And suddenly, the room truly feels like a prison.