The Drug Lord's Son (Completed)

Chapter 11

Clarke didn't move. Maybe he wasn't human, I jokingly thought. If he would just go to sleep.

"You going to stare at me like that all night?"

He stiffened his back and continued to watch me. He looked nervous. I had to be confident, dangerous. I had to be my brother.

"You'll regret not letting me go... I'll fight you."

My words didn't phase him. I swear it sounded better in my head.

"I gotta take a leak. What am I supposed to do?"

He was silent. Surprise, surprise.

I anxiously waited. What time was it? Was it day or night? The building I was confined in was dark, except for the dangling ceiling light above me, and the other by the door. It appeared to be a warehouse or some storage space.

I had to do it. It was time.

I began to apply pressure to my thumb again with my other stiff hand.  I pressed down hard, biting my lower lip.

"What are you-."

Crack.

I screamed as I heard my bone snap. I slid my hand out and untied my leg. I screamed again, avoiding putting pressure on my thumb.

Clarke drew his gun.

"What did you? Did you just break your thumb?"

"Obviously, ah." I breathed through my teeth, taking in deep, heavy breaths. I didn't get very far before falling to the ground, brining the chair down with me. I landed face down on my thumb.

"Ahh!"I called in agony.

Clarke pulled up my chair and stuffed his gun back in.

"Shit. What the fuck were you trying to do?"

"Get out of these damn handcuffs!"

"Fuck, fuck! I have to fix you before they come back and see this. Shit! Come with me. Now." He grabbed me and pushed me forward. He tied a blue bandana around my eyes. I heard the steel door open.

It was dark outside. No light shined through. Clarke had a death grip on my arms, preventing me to run.

The ground was hard and cement. I could hear cars. My best guess was I was still in the city.

"HELP!" I screamed. Clarke threw out a kick into the back of my leg.

"Shut up, I'm trying to help."

"By fixing me to save your ass?"

He didn't say anything. Just pushed me forward. 

We didn't walk long, and took few turns. The turns we did take were all rights.

We went up some stairs that creaked and were shaky. I tried to pay extreme attention to my surroundings.

Another door opened after the few flights of stairs. He shoved me in a room and tugged the bandana down, freeing my sight. It appeared to be a small, one room apartment. The windows were boarded up. I looked over at them.

"Don't even try it. Won't be able to get those boards down. You're not getting out."

He dumped ice cubes from a tray out of a freezer and put them into a sandwich bag. He zipped it up and tried to place it on my broken thumb. I tried to pull away.

"Do you want ice or not?" I put my hand under the bag as he set it on. He grabbed two Popsicle sticks and tape.

"Why are you helping me?"

"They want you in good shape when you meet the boss. My job to keep you in good condition and keep you alive until then."

"You mean you're supposed to guard me. Keep me trapped."

He didn't say anything. He worked by the rusted sink.

"You're scared of me, admit it."

He shoved two Popsicle sticks on both sides of my thumb and twisted duct tape on my finger. He pulled a bit when he tore it off.

"Who wouldn't be afraid of you?"

"Got that right." I spit carelessly to help my tough aura. It just made me look more stupid.

"Can you tell me something?" Clark asked, facing the opposite direction, putting the tape away.

"Are the stories true?"

"Yes. Every single one."

"So you killed four men with one bullet?"

"Yes."

"And you jumped into the Chicago River to escape police?"

"Afraid yet?"

He didn't say anything.

"We need to go back."

"Can I take a leak first?" I said it with a mildly cocky attitude.

He took me into the windowless, cramped bathroom. Clarke stood in the door way.

"No privacy? Alright."

I peed for which felt like ten minutes and zipped up my pants.

"Let's go." He said.

"I haven't washed my hands."

"I never thought the drug lord's son would care about getting his hands dirty."

He blind folded me again and walked me back carefully. My broken thumb throbbed.  A little more light seeped through the bandana. I figured it was very early morning.

Physical exhaustion didn't hit me until I sat back down and was tied to the chair instead of handcuffs.

"Got any food?"

"Don't push it. They'll be here soon.

Clarke shifted back to stone cold silence.

I thought it was odd Clarke healed me just so they could tear me down again, all to hurt my dad. At least mom and Jack were safe. Liam was too, since they believed I was him. Why hadn't they tried to capture Nova? Perhaps they couldn't, or maybe they already had her.

The door turned, Clarke sprang up into his feet. The red woman was back with a few men. One with an upturned nose and long, greasy hair. He walked with an expensive cane.

"Liam, eh? Remember me?" He spoke sharply.

"No. Stay away from me."

"I haven't seen you since you were a wee boy. Glad you grew out of that blonde hair."

"Who are you?"  I squinted.

"A man your father believed to be dead."