Their Bloody Rose

Where is She?

When Marissa started to come to, her body ached. Her head was pounding and there was a throbbing, harsh pain in her left leg. She kept her eyes closed as she slowly regained consciousness, just like she'd trained herself to do whenever she'd been kidnapped before. She kept her breathing steady and focused her mind on how she'd got here and on anything and everything she could pick up on around her without moving or opening her eyes yet, in case they were watching.

The fight in the living room played through her head. Alonso and three other guys she didn't know had all been there waiting for her and Joanie. She'd been able to take out two of them, even with Alonso shooting her in the leg after the first guy dropped, but Curtis had surprised her and he and the thrid man had thrown her into the wall knocking her out. Fucking Curtis. What the hell did they want with her?

Still keeping her eyes closed, she started trying to assess her surroundings. It was quiet, but she could hear the occasional scurrying of a rat. The building smelled old, like aged iron and steel. Beyond that she smelled a heavy pine mixed with a bit of the ocean. She was definitely far from the city.

She focused in on her arms and wrists where they were bound behind her. The first thing she noticed was that her bracelet was gone. Shit. Seemed she was on her own out here until her partners could find another way to track her down. She could feel what were likely zip-ties around her wrists, binding her to the metal chair she was sat in. She very carefully tried to move one of her legs and found they hadn't tied them to anything, though she could tell her left leg was going to be difficult to move thanks to the bullet wound in it. Aside from that though, it seemed all that was holding her down were the two measily zip-ties on her wrists, nothing more.

Idiots, Marissa thought to herself. Anyone could break out of this, especially someone with as much experience in these situations as she had.

After being sure she'd assessed everything she could without opening her eyes, she decided it was finally time to look around and face her captors. Gazing around the room, she saw she was in the middle of a big abandoned warehouse. It felt familiar, like she'd been at least near here before, like she might know who this place belonged to.

There were 2 long, old wooden tables beside her laid out with all manner of torture tools. Despite the aged, worn tables they were laid out on, the tools looked like they were barely ever used, clearly more for intimidation than anything else. Marissa couldn't believe she'd actually been kidnapped again, after all these years, and by such clearly unskilled, inexperienced morons.

She kept scanning the room, trying to find exits and any people who might stand in her way. Part of her wanted to just run out of there and get back to her amazing partners and the life she was building with them. But her former life was calling to her here. The bloodlust was bubbling up inside her like a geyser about to blow. It had been so long since she'd seen the will to live slowly vanish from someone eyes, watched the light slowly fade away into nothingness as their blood pooled at her feet. She knew she shouldn't give in to it, if she did it could ruin everything, but still, it called.

Before she could ponder on that too long, a door opened at the far end of the room and several men filed in, the first being that shitbag Curtis.

"Well well well," Curtis said with a cutting, performative sarcasm in his voice, "if it isn't the bitch who decided to fuck up my hand and take my girl from me." He stopped at the table and picked up a large dagger, clearly trying to intimidate and scare her, but Marissa didn't flinch. Seeing the bandage wrapping his still healing, and seemingly useless, right hand from where she'd stabbed him two weeks ago made Marissa have to fight back a smirk.

Of course this ass wants to show off to these dickheads, Marissa thought to herself as she watched Curtis flounce towards her with the dagger like some sideshow showman while the rest of the men stayed back and watched. She wanted to snap back at him, to say something to antagonize him and cut him down to size, but she knew that the more cocky he was, the more likely he was to make a mistake. That cockiness would be her freedom, and his downfall.