Deadly Secrets

Chapter 9: Rubair

[Revised] 

"Who are you working with?" he yelled, digging the gun into her head. Her body felt like it had been hit with a meat tenderizer. The pain was so great, she hadn't properly registered the question. The man grunted and pushed the gun impossibly harder against her temple. Any moment now, and it would explode. "I said, who do you work for, you bitch!"

"I—I d-don't..." She was too overwhelmed to form a coherent response to his question, and that factor was working against her, "I don't know what you're talking about," Zara managed to force out, all in one breath. Her voice was hoarse from the lack of oxygen. Her head spun.

"Is it the Wolves, the Fangs, the Skulls? Tell me!"

All names that belonged to notorious gangs. How had she gotten involved in this one?

"Please...I can't," she wheezed, "breathe." Her face was going numb, and all she could do about it was whimper. She hated being so helpless.

A moment's hesitation, then the pressure against her neck weakened.

"I don't work for anyone," Zara said, each word followed by a mouthful of air, "I think you have the wrong person."

That last statement was shrouded with uncertainty, as Zara wasn't confident in her inculpability. She had committed many crimes, from shoplifting to burglary, and it had been only a matter of time before they all caught up with her.

"I've had enough of your bullshit." He grabbed Zara's shoulder and flipped her over, "It's time for you to—" He pushed the barrel of the gun into the soft spot under her jaw.

God Almighty, please make this as least painful as possible...

A pause. He didn't pull the trigger.

Zara opened her eyes. Her brain was still in her skull, and not splattered across the floor.

That was a bad sign.

"Your name is Zara DeRealis." It was a statement, not a question.

Zara stared blankly in response. Where was he going with this?

His green eyes—which narrowed as he inspected her—and eyebrows, were the only facial features that were visible. The lower half was hidden by a red bandana, decorated with white paisleys. The classic gang member.

After what felt like an eternity, he pulled the gun away from her face. "What do you know about the Butterfly?"

Zara opened her mouth to speak, but no words seemed to come.

Is this guy nuts?

Her face must've given away her perplexity because he wrinkled his nose and repeated the question. He probably thought that she was a complete moron.

"Nothing. I don't know what that is." And she didn't. The 'Butterfly' could mean anything, really. To her, it was just another word in the English dictionary.

"Funny you say that because it has come to my attention that you," He pushed the gun against her jaw line for emphasis, "along with your pathetic band of teenage delinquents, have stolen something very valuable from a very important person. The very thing you seem to be in the dark about."

"What? What are you talking about? We didn't steal anything from you!" she screamed, teeth chattering with fear. She wasn't even being accused of a crime she had committed. This is madness.

He clicked his tongue and shook his head empathetically. "Now, now. Let's not get all worked up. We wouldn't want this gun to accidentally go off, do we?"