His Vengeance

Chapter 3

Nicole

I drifted in and out of consciousness, my eyes flickering open to find the car still in motion. The three intimidating figures seated before me never wavered in their watchful gaze. It was clear that I had been kidnapped, as these men were not part of my father's security team, but their motives remained a mystery. Surprisingly, fear didn't consume me; instead, an eerie calm settled over me. It was as though I had experienced this before, becoming accustomed to danger and maintaining composure even when my life was at stake. Odd, isn't it?

I recalled a significant detail from my past life in the UK—Matt, who used to train me in self-defense every afternoon. I often wondered why he bothered teaching me, and his response was always the same: "It will come in handy someday." Over time, I had become proficient in these techniques, but now, faced with the barrel of a real gun, doubt clouded my mind.

As consciousness returned for the fourth time, I heard voices enveloping me. Struggling to open my eyes, I strained to observe my surroundings, but the weight on my eyelids was overpowering.

"What do you think he plans to do with her?" one of the men with a thick American accent questioned.

"Probably slaughter her and sell her organs to the highest bidder," another man responded, their laughter filling the air.

Panic surged through me. Who were these men, and what did they want from me?

"We've arrived. Take her to the interrogation room immediately; I'll inform the boss," a different voice commanded, signaling the end of our journey. The car came to a halt. I had given up on trying to open my eyes, having heard the word "slaughter," and opted to feign unconsciousness.

My efforts were unnecessary, as a prick on the back of my neck sent me into a deeper slumber.

*******

I abruptly jolted awake, gasping for air. A blinding light from above temporarily blinded me upon opening my eyes.

Gradually, I regained sensation in my body and attempted to move my hands, only to discover I was bound to a chair. The room shrouded in darkness, emitted a nauseating stench of dried blood—a testament to the horrors that had taken place here.

In the dimly lit space, I discerned a door at the far end and, to my right, a long table adorned with an array of unsettling tools: scissors, pliers, screwdrivers.

What kind of place was this?

"Hello? Is anyone out there willing to explain what the hell is going on and why I'm here?" I shouted angrily, my voice reverberating through the silence.

No response came, prompting me to make one final attempt at freeing myself from the tight ropes.

A noise emanated from the door, immediately instilling fear as I pondered who might enter and potentially end my life. Still, I remained in the dark as to their motives.

The door swung open, and two men entered, taking up positions on either side as sentinels. A third figure, a woman, glided into the room with an air of grace.

She approached until she stood directly in front of me, illuminated by the harsh light. Her auburn hair faded into a captivating hue, and her bright brown eyes met mine. Clad in tight black leather pants, a barely there crop top, and a sleek leather jacket, she exuded an aura of dominance.

"Nicole Parish," she enunciated, her words causing me to narrow my eyes, surprised she knew my real name.

"And who the hell are you?" I retorted, my voice laced with suspicion.

She chuckled, retrieving a gun from behind her and aiming it at my face.

"You won't find out, I'm afraid. We have our questions, and you're the only one who can provide the answers," she replied, a smile curling on her lips.

Recalling Matt's teachings, I reminded myself to conceal my emotions, maintain composure, and keep a straight face.

"Well, why should I cooperate?" I challenged her, unfazed.

Her gaze shifted to the objects on the nearby table.

"These tools will make you talk, my dear. Save your energy for tomorrow; that's when the real fun begins," she stated, causing a lump to form in my throat.

"What do you want from me? Why am I here?" I demanded, frustration tainting my voice. She lowered her gun, gripping the armrest of the chair, leaning in to meet my gaze.

"You're here for a reason, Nicole Parish. It'll be a long night for you, so you might want to start praying. Things won't come easy for you tomorrow," she whispered menacingly.

"We'll see about that," I retorted defiantly. She straightened up, glaring at me, before holstering her gun at her waist.

"Oh, I can't wait to see what Shane has in store for you. You'll learn to appreciate pain," she taunted, walking back toward the man stationed by the door.

Shane? Who was he, the one in charge?

Returning once more, she held a piece of cloth in her hand. Standing behind me, she swiftly blindfolded me, enveloping me in darkness.

"Hey! What are you doing? Remove this, you bitch!" I shouted, only to be met with her laughter echoing throughout the room.

"Enjoy your solitude tonight, Parish! See you tomorrow," she declared, the door slamming shut, leaving me in silence. I struggled against my restraints one last time before conceding.

This wasn't the homecoming I had anticipated. Whatever these people wanted from me, I vowed not to yield until I uncovered the answers myself.

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~ Lucy