Cliché

chapter 3. kidnapped by the gang leader

Even with all my efforts to escape, including punching out the tail light and sticking my hand out of it, as well as trying to overpower the man who hauled me out of the trunk once the car stopped, I'm still unable to do so. He leads me into a fairly large but run down suburban home, surrounded by miles and miles of thick forest that I can't see the end of. Before he locks me into a random room on the second floor, I scan the floorplan and the positions of the different men, forming a possible escape route in my head.

And that brings me here, handcuffed to a bedpost inside the Gang Leader's hideout.

"This better not be going where I think it is," I mutter exasperatedly, pulling at the metal cuff around my wrist.

Even though my story has suddenly started tilting towards the direction of a mature erotica, which is enough to make any main character spiral into a fit of anxiety and panic, I'm surprisingly able to stay calm. The solitude, although forced, allows me time to think over my situation and best come up with a plan of action.

Firstly and most obviously: I've been kidnapped by a gang.

The leader of said gang is tall, young, and hot, meaning he's probably an important character to the plot.

So, either he's a love interest, which I find highly unlikely from the number of love interests I already have, or...

He's the antagonist.

Suddenly, it all clicks in my head.

Obviously, either one of my love interests is also a gang leader or has a tense relationship with the Gang Leader, so he's decided to use me as some kind of bait or leverage. Otherwise, I would've just been killed earlier.

And now, I just have to wait for either the Quarterback or the Rich Boy to come and rescue me.

I purse my lips in dismay, dissatisfied from the conclusion I had come to.

I hate waiting.

The door opens right then, revealing the very same man I had been thinking about: the Gang Leader. He slowly walks in, each step of his resounding out with a definitive click against the hardwood floors. I refuse to look up at him, but even so, I can still feel the chill of his gaze as he stops at the foot of the bed.

"Where is it?" He questions.

I frown. That definitely hadn't been the question I was expecting. "Where is what?"

"Don't play stupid," he snaps, hitting the bedpost with a frightening amount of anger. "The document."

"What are you—"

The question stops on my tongue as I recall the discussion the gang had been having when I was listening in on them. The document that Warren had lost. The one that a girl with black hair picked up.

I have black hair.

"Hey." I look straight at his eyes, a look of annoyance on my face. "I just happened to be there during your gang's little rendezvous and just happen to have black hair— okay, when I say it out loud, it sounds bad but— really, I don't have what you're looking for."

He stares at me coldly, not revealing any sign of giving up on the subject. "How did you know a girl with black hair had picked it up?"

"Because I was eavesdropping on your discussion!" I shout, my frustration rising to a dangerous level, especially when dealing with a man unafraid to kidnap me. "That also sounds bad, but—"

"If you're not going to tell me, then I guess I'll just keep you here until you talk." Against my hurled yells and insults, he leaves the room, making sure to let the sound of door locking ring out.