Look After You

The Captor

     "Scream and I'll slit your throat."

     It was a good thing that Ryan wasn't planning on screaming then. Would anyone else shriek at the top of their lungs if a man had sprung out from their backseat and brought a knife around to their throat? Most likely. They probably would've blubbered too, crying and sobbing and begging for mercy. They would've asked not to be hurt, would've asked not to be killed, would've asked for the world to ripple and break like the dream that it was supposed to be. If he had been raised differently, he might have reacted the same way. If William hadn't taught him the rules of survival through bruises and welts, he probably wouldn't have been so level-headed. Stiff shoulders, straight back, eyes forward. He knew what to do. Anything to do to keep the cool blade that was nicking his neck in one spot and the person holding it happy. His adopted father had been a creature with slime for blood, but he would be remiss if he didn't credit him for teaching him how to never relax.

     As vigilant as Ryan was, even he made mistakes. Even he forgot to do little things like turn off the stove at home and close his blinds before he went to sleep at night. He also forgot to lock the car doors, which must've made breaking into his car a breeze for the stranger in his back seat. Normally, he'd remember to do something like that. Being out as late as he was with the type of job that he had meant that he had to exercise an extra amount of caution than usual. He had known that for years, and yet when he parked his car miles away from the Cooper Kingdom's castle, he found himself forgetting all of that and more in favor of fantasies of the king. Pondering on what they'd spend hours talking about this time had completely consumed all of Ryan's common sense. He didn't check the backseats upon returning to his car either, too high on Bo's soothing aura to remember what it felt like to feel fear. It was honestly like he was asking for disaster to strike.

     When it came to picturing the stranger in his car, all Ryan had to go off was the image in the rearview mirror. With the help of a nearby street light, he was able to see a black button-up that matched the black hat on his head. Eyes that were made of coal were illuminated while a dark beard wasn't. He ended up staring at that for longer than he meant to. The only thing that snapped him out of his daze was the thin hand that was placed on his shoulder, keeping him locked in place just in case he thought about doing anything rash. The act made him realize just how much sweat was forming under his shirt.

     The man moved his head around the headrest, letting his lips hover near Ryan's ear before whispering with a voice that demanded fear. "You have a weapon on you. I know that you do. Where is it?"

     If Ryan opened his mouth, this man would hear his heartbeat come up his throat instead of words. That was the last thing that he wanted. Well, that and losing his life, but he stared down the barrel of that gun often enough to stop fearing what would happen once the trigger was pulled. Really, his survival was only important to Luke, Bo, and anyone else who had the unfortunate burden of caring about him. He knew the mourning process well by now, well enough to never want to put anyone he loved through that.

     The man sighed. His breath raised the hairs on Ryan's neck.

     "Answer me or I'll search you myself."

     "There's a holster on my right hip." He spoke to the image in the mirror. 

     The hand on his shoulder moved, inching down his body like a snake that left goosebumps in its wake. It took everything inside of him to suppress a shudder, especially with that blade so damn close to ripping his neck apart like paper. The bottom of Ryan's shirt was lifted ever so slightly, revealing the mentioned holster and the gun inside of it. He could hear the man hum as he took the firearm from its spot. For a moment, he wondered if getting his throat slit would hurt less than getting shot.

     The man placed the gun on the seat. Ryan could just barely see it through the mirror. Now would've been a great time to have his staff on him. As badly as he didn't want to stain the thing with blood, he'd have to start keeping it on him at night as a precaution. That was something to remember if he made it out of this alive.

     The knife grazed his skin.

     "Drive." He said. "I'll tell you where to go."

     Ryan started the car.

     He offered Bo's castle a quick glance before pulling off.