Sold To The Gangleader

Chapter 10

Layla's POV

I wake up from my body jolting and slamming forward, causing my face to connect against something hard in front me. I scream as the sudden impact causes pain to soar through me, I taste blood and liquid run down my nose.

"Shut the fuck up!" A familiar voice yells into my ear.

Painfully, I pry my eyes open and take in my setting.

I'm in a full speed moving vehicle.

Still slouched against the front I pull myself back to my seat and wipe the blood from my nose with my sleeve, I grasp the hand rest so I don't fall off again and suck in a sharp breath.

I look around and see Mr fucking traitor sitting right next next to me, looking smug with what looks to be purple bruises across his neck.

I can't believe they planned this all out. Have they been following me around all this time?

It all seemed so realistic. Did that guy really agree to get strangled? Or are those bruises just makeup?

I peek through the gap in the headrest and to my confirmation It's Killian.

"Why am I here?" I croak through gritted teeth.

His blue eyes connect with mine from the rear view mirror before he looks at the road again.

No response.

I feel a growing anger wash over me and I begin to kick at the his seat.

"Why. Am. I. Fucking. Here. You. Mother. Fuckin-" I yell, after every kick but get cut off by a hard punch landing square on my jaw, causing my face to slam onto the window.

My eyes start to blur and I whimper in pain as a few tears escape my eyes.

When I regain my vision I rub my jaw and slowly turn my gaze to the traitorous prick sitting next to me.

I throw him a glare through my tears and he smirks, tilting his head.
"Is the wittle girl cwying?" He mocks, using a baby voice that sounds like an ostrich in labour.

That fucking does it.

I raise my hand up and smack him across his face. Hard, watching his pale cheek slowly turn red.

"THIS LITTLE GIRL, KNOWS HOW TO FIGHT, BITCH!" I scream in his face as I lift my other hand to smack his other cheek.

He lifts his hand up to grab my hand but I grab both his wrists and twist them, smirking when he yelps in pain.

"This will teach you a lesson." I jump on top of him and aim a hard punch landing it straight to his nose. When I hear the crack my smirk widens, as I watch the blood start to drip.

"Your hairline looks pretty messed up. How about a new style?" I smile, as I grab a fist full of his hair.

"You wouldn't-" he starts but screams when I pull at it in full force.

"I wouldn't huh?" I smirk, looking straight through his brown eyes. Fear washing through them.

"KI-" before he could finish I poke both of his eyes hard and he lets out a high-pitched scream.

"YOU FUCKING PSYCHOPATH!" He yells and I raise my eyebrows even though he can't see me.

"I'm the one whose a psychopath?! Who's the one who took my kindness for granted? Who kidnapped me? WHO FRICKING ATTACKED ME FIRST?? HUH?!" I growl my voice raising higher.

"IM JUST GIVING YOU A PIECE OF YOUR OWN FRICKING MIND! WHAT? YOU THOUGHT I'D JUST SIT BACK LIKE A WEAK ASS TAKING ALL THIS SHIT?"

I suddenly feel a sharp pain on my arm and wince, turning around and see a needle jammed in. Fuck. My head suddenly feels heavy and my vision blurs. I lift my head and meet cold blue eyes.

"You mother fu-" I speak but get cut off as another hard punch lands on my head and everything goes black. Again.

~~~~~

I stare down at the rocky floor, ignoring the pounding pain that's soaring through my skull.

I had woken up a few hours ago to find myself in this pee-coloured room with nothing but a bucket next to me.

Both my leg and arm are chained up to the wall with some rusty chains. If I could just pull this thing off me I could try to escape.

I grip the chain that's connected to the cuffs on my wrists. I squeeze my eyes shut and purse my lips.

Okay Layla. Just pull.

Holding my breath, I fold the chain with my hand and tug my wrist with full force and scream but immediately cover my mouth with my other hand whimpering.

FUCKING OWW!

I look at my wrist and see bruises starting to form and I grit my teeth. Bad idea.

Never judge a chain by its rust.

The cuffs are tight so I manage to push it just a little back and start massaging my sore wrists by rubbing circles. My rubbing soon halts when I hear footsteps. Shit!

As the footstep get closer and closer, I quickly lean my back against the rough wall and lay my head against my shoulder, closing my eyes shut.

Then the door opens.

Followed by footsteps getting closer and closer....

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