Hitman: Captured | #1 - HIATUS

► PART II

Six weeks later

The first thing I wake up to is a terrible agony, every muscle has been abused, bruised, and sore. Every bone has been dislocated, broken, snapped back to together, only to be broken again. I don't know how I look with my hands tied above my head; the restraints mounted on a hook from the ceiling.

Before this, I was chained to a steel chair. They sliced my skin, never stabbed me for some reason but I suppose they wouldn't want me to die of an infection. Ozias comes by every day without fail, twice, three times a day depending on his mood and every time he has a patronizing smile on his face.

His vulturous eyes gleam with pleasure watching me suffer. The only place that remains untouched is my face, apparently, he likes to see the expression I make when I scream and bleed. Before I sleep, they shove oxycodone down my throat; I'm not really sure why they go through the trouble of relieving my pain but I think it has to do with waking me up early in the morning with ice cold water.

Day after day the torture becomes worse, they never cut off a single body part but they make sure the pain is there. I'm sure most of my ribs are broken, my back is probably covered in gashes like my chest. The wound on my abdomen healed probably two weeks before I was brought here but it didn't really matter when they'd use me as a punching bag.

I caught a fever twice and both times someone looked after me. I don't know who, I was too delirious and barely conscious to make out the figure.

At the sound of the heavy door being dragged across the floor, I grow tense. The first face I know I'm going to see is Ozias with the Asian man named Ma Tae-Hee or "Tae" for short. Blue eyes sluggishly lift from the floor, greeting Ozias' gaze, my shaky fingers grip the restraints hard, soles of my feet sore from standing for who knows how long.

This time he's dressed casually in a button up shirt, taking in his muscular yet surprisingly slim waisted build. His jeans form his legs to appear longer than they actually are and his biceps are almost painful to look at from the way it constricts the long sleeves of his shirt. Dark brown hair is plowed to the side, wet as if he had just stepped out of the shower.

When he raises his hand to rub his sharp jawline, I note the clean-shaven countenance that once had a faded stubble. He looks younger, more attractive and downright sadistic with a smile toying on his lips. He's relishing at the sight of me again. It makes my skin crawl in repulsion, fighting back the need to vomit in his presence.

"Tae," Ozias regards the shorter man beside him dressed in similar attire as him. His tonal accent is hard to ignore when some pronunciation of the letters is high pitched or at times lower. It's a pleasant voice to listen to if it isn't holding a potent need to have everything done his way. "Should I tell him, or should you?"

Brows furrow in bemusement, flexing the brawns of my arms to hold myself properly at my feet wearing nothing except jeans which is changed every other day. The cool air gives me goosebumps, shivers raking through my body; it takes everything I have to not show how cold and distressed I am.

A sigh leaves the Asian man's mouth clearly not wanting to do whatever it is Ozias wants him to do. Ozias disregards Tae, "Fine, I'll do it. Good news, I won't be torturing you anymore." He smiles, instincts going rigid at his announcement.

"What?" My voice is hoarse, painful to talk after all the shouting the day before.

"I want to try something different," Ozias declares, slowly approaching me; his height looms over me with ease. The blood in my veins pump faster, trepidation coursing through my muddled mind. "No matter what I do to you, you just won't break. You are stronger than I thought, so I want to play a game with you."

Ozias touches my chest lightly causing me to jerk back and wince from the stinging wounds. He chuckles in amusement, dragging his finger over the series of contusions and gashes across it then pressures his thumb against my collarbone. I hold in the cry of agony threatening to leave my throat, clenching my jaw tightly refusing to give him that satisfaction.

Leaning closer to my face, his green eyes scrutinize me. "Capros have a skill—a unique talent—that makes them particularly dangerous with just about anything. I wonder, do you have their talent? Or are you a fraud?" Ozias jabs further into the slash, rubbing it simultaneously; attempting very hard to bring a scream out of me.

"Not too long ago, I had a Capro right where you are right now," He muses, blood gushing out from the wound down to my chest. "Capros are too resilient to allow themselves to succumb to anything that goes against their principles. I'll try something very different with you; instead of breaking you, I'll change you."

Change me? I think in confusion; it doesn't make sense to me what point he is trying to get at. Considering my mind can only focus on the pain and the way my body is vigorously trembling under him, there is nothing worse he can do to me. When he finally retracts his thumb from my collarbone, it fills me with huge relief to be able to breathe again.

Exhaustion washes over me, unable to contain the shakiness and cold sweat beading down my eyebrows from my untamed black hair. "I'll make you my Cerberus, guarding my underworld, pleasing his Master, and never seeing death unless I make it so." His accent is more prominent when he says 'Cerberus' leading me to assume the man before me is Greek.

I sneer at him, "The only underworld I guard is mine. Tutto per la famiglia (everything for the family)." I spit at his face making sure he understood that no matter what he does or says, I won't let him win.

Spending all this time in a place like this, drugged half the time unexpectedly brought memories I thought I'd never get back. The days I've spent with my father, arguments with my aunt, Olivia to spend more time with my father. Back then, I knew who I was, I knew my 'mother' was actually my aunt, I knew what my father did and I wanted it too. There was nothing more that I wanted than to protect the family because I am a Capro.

Capros don't quit. Capros don't die without a fight. Capros are not weak. The person I was before all this was never the real me and I haven't felt as true to myself as I feel in this very moment.

The Asian man standing by the door takes a step forward, dark eyes cautiously observing the current situation. I watch in satisfaction as the saliva trails down his cheek, his gaze flare in anger and with a swift motion of his hand, my head whips to the side, scorching terribly from the backhanding. Bruises and cuts stretch from the abrupt movements of my body, legs close to giving up on me if I wasn't being held up by a hook.

"Good to see you're still lively, I'd love to see you have the same enthusiasm once you know what I have in store for you." He speaks in a hard tone. Side-eyeing the older man wiping his face with his fingers and wiping it on his jeans, I retreat from his presence. The cold glower sent at my direction make my heart stop for a full second.

Ozias Keli always delivers his promises. I hate to admit it but I believe him. He's going to change me. Destroy me. Ozias will make whatever he wants out of me and he is a brutal, marauding, powerful man. There is no escape from him.

And I'm petrified of him.

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Part 1 of Hitman: Captured is completed. This is like a "Prologue" of Part 2. The rest of Part 2 will be told in Neil's perspective, I may switch back to Matt if I need to depending which direction this story takes.

Don't forget to hit that star because you love this book so much. I really appreciate all the support and patience.

If you have any questions while waiting for Chapter 20 (which will take a while because life, lml) feel free to ask. However, I will give NO SPOILERS on Part 2 so forget asking >:P

'Til next time!
~ Allen