Miguel O'Hara x Reader [one-shots]

INNOCENCE [M] (P.III)

THE MAN THAT pulled me into the building was overwhelmingly strong. Even with years of straining to pull down men two times my size, I couldn't move an inch as I was dragged down further and further.

When I was pushed into a chair that scooted to the wall with the force, I finally got a good look of my captor.

Reddish-brown eyes took a hold of mine.

My eyes narrowed as I recognized those eyes. My jaw clenched, and I stood up instantly with my fists balled up at my sides.

"Sit down," he ordered.

"I take orders from no one," I looked up at him with so much indignation it took all of me not to gather my saliva in my mouth and spit right in that face of his.

He reached his hand out and pushed me down into the chair roughly. His hand tightened at my shoulders like he was angry, but his face betrayed none of his emotions.

"Except from Doom, right?" His head tilted.

I scoffed and moved my head, but even that was looked down upon by him because with his other hand, he forced my head back so I was looking in his eyes again.

"Dime," he started, his voice low. "¿cómo es posible que una chica que fue presuntamente secuestrada camine a plena luz del día sin un músculo tenso?"

I kept my eyes on him, as if inviting the challenge. That sparked a light of fire in his eyes unlike any other I'd seen before. "¿Quién dice que todavía no fui secuestrado?" I answered him. "En todo caso, me salvaste."

"Eso no explica por qué no estabas preocupada o asustada," he said, slightly narrowing his eyes.

I shrugged. "Soy una gran actriz."

"Sí, lo eres."

One beat of silence remained between us before I tried to shove him off of me and run. He had seen the move coming a mile away it seemed because he had slammed me into the chair and moved his hand to my throat.

Somehow, his eyes turned redder. His tan skin glowed in the sunlight the peered through the half-boarded up windows. "Why did you kill him?"

My hands clasped around his hand. I tried to dig my nails into his skin, but that just made his clasp tighter.

"Why did you kill him?!" His voice echoed louder in this empty room, reminding me that it was just the two of us. This meeting wasn't sanctioned by the president or any of his men— wasn't brought to anyone's attention.

My jaw hardened. I stopped fighting him, raising my legs, planting my feet on his stomach and his chest, before pushing back with every inch of force in me.

He staggered back, letting go of my throat. I gasped for air, getting up from my seat. I coughed and spluttered at the same time I kept my eyes on him. With every inch closer he got, I backed away.

When he stopped, so did I.

My coughing ceased, but the sting on my neck remained. "His life held no importance in the grand scheme of things," I finally responded, gripping the counter next to me.

"You don't get to decide that," his voice was loud and quiet at the same time. He stepped forward, but I didn't step back. His frame was tall and muscular— stoic, but his eyes... for a split-second, they were vulnerable.

I almost told him I was sorry. "Well, I did. I do."

"So, what, you're his puppet?" His head tilted, taking another step towards me. Only two more and he would be only a mere centimeters away from me.