I was sent to capture the CIA's most wanted fugitive.
But things took a tragic turn,
My entire team was murdered before my eyes, and I was kidnapped by said fugitive.
It seemed like my government had forgotten me and I became a puppet for the fugi...
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Beep. Beep. Beep.
I feel a weird sensation hovering around me. It's dark. Not too dark but dark all the same. Also why does it feel so comfortable here? I'm I home? Did the great United States of America finally rescue their own? Is my mother here? Even so why does it feel so........weird.
I open my eyes slowly, only to see that I am in fact on a bed and there are some medical devices around me. I spot a monitor, the sole producer of the beep sound. There are things strapped to my body, liquids that resemble food. I'm I really back?
I look left and the mere thought of being back in America crumbles to dust. This particular person is always around Andreas Hidalgo. He was there the night I was kidnapped and he personally put me in the basement cell. He was rough and angry.
And he seems all the same as he places a pen knife close to my jugular. I meet his eyes head on. Recently, I've been an expert at tempting fate and cheating death—more like escaping. But it seems so quiet here and incredibly far from the basement.
Of course the last thing I remember about being awake is barging into a room and unexpectedly seeing Andreas.
Half-naked, a dangerous beauty, my Captor.
I remember nothing after that. But putting all events together, the mere thought of the fact that I collapsed in front him gives me a different kind of cringe. I should never lower my guard in front of my enemy.
"Why wait?" I ask, my voice barely audible. "Why not just go for it?"
"You're sick." He says.
"Rich coming from the man who has a knife closely aimed at my neck." I throw back. He doesn't laugh or smile, it's almost as if he's trying to understand something, like he's trying to look deep into my soul and see what's left. He's so close, his hot breath fanning my cheek, but unlike with Andreas, it does nothing to stir up anything.
"I would like to get this over with—"
"You are Lombardi's." He states. Its not a question, but a confirmation. But apart from the U. S. government, the only people who can tell who was trained by Agent Lombardi are those who were also trained by him. My head rears back from the sudden discovery.
"So are you." I breathe.
"You were trained from early childhood." He states. Just how much homework have these people done on me?
"Which means you know that it's suicide to try to kill me."
"Says the woman strapped to a hospital bed."
"You do not want to mess with me." I give a cocky smile.
"And why is that?" He brings the knife even closer. There appears to be a bandage where Andreas and I played our little game the last time. How long ago was that? No fucking clue.
