Hidden Dangers| Spencer Reid

[10] Decieve

Trigger warning: Mentions of mental health. Read at your own risk.
If you feel alone, or need someone to talk to, please do not hesitate to reach out to me xx

Wyatt Kingsley's P.O.V

Grasping onto my liquor, I down the icy beverage, as I watch my colleague devour in small talk with the young woman to my right. The bitterness of the beer resides. She's perfect. God, the way the flashes of light illuminates onto her delicate features. Magnificent. I intently watch Nathan Thompson become a little frisky with his exchange. Which reminds me. Branden. His body was found not too long ago, meaning the feds are most certainly onto us. Not if I can help it, and leave that is evidence towards a very certain member. Branden was the weak link. He overstayed his endeavour. I didn't need him interfering or fucking up our long awaited operations with his peanut of a brain. So I had him killed. I eagerly watch Thompson add our little trick into her drink as she smooches his neck. Joseph Jeremiah takes a seat next to me, as we both watch in silence. "The drug should kick in soon" Jeremiah quietly whispers to my ear. "Has Christopher brought the van out the front ? We'll be leaving soon" I question.
"He has sir". I contemplate for a moment until  I am rudely disturbed.
"Have you spoken to her?". I immediately grasp an understanding.
"I haven't since we left for the operation".
"She should join in, maybe learn a little from the expert?" Jeremiah smiles and nudges you.
I nod, allowing a smirk to seep through, as I contemplate on his words.
There's a moment of silence. I turn to see Thompson assisting the young woman, "I should take you home" I watch him articulate the words. She nods as she leans against him. Thompson places his arm around of her and guides her to the exit.
"Showtime" I say as Jeremiah and I make our way to the exit of the function.
I jolt my gaze to the corner of the street, where our van resides. Thompson picks her up and proceeds to the van. "Open up" Thompson's shouts. Grayson opens the van door pulling the innocent in with her. The drive to our warehouse was estimated at around twenty minutes. The innocent dazes off into a deep slumber, as Grayson drives along the uncomfortable, and rock infested road. The van confined with silence, and mixed in with a strong sensation of alcohol. The bumpy road cause an uneasy sensation to stumble upon myself. Grayson finally pulls up to the warehouse. The streets appear isolated at this time of night. I hurriedly exit out of the vehicle, under the deep blue nights sky, and proceed to prepare for the following procedure. The team knowing protocol, I leave them, relying on their actions on the next following tasks.. independently.

Christopher Grayson P.O.V

"The two of you make your way into the warehouse, and set up, I've got it from here" I demand. It was truly such a simple task ordering these no brainers.
The two silently nod, and exit the vehicle in a hushed manner. I turn to see her eyes make slight movement, as her being slowly awakens. She takes a moment, her eyes narrowed,gazing all around the van, shifting her sight to me.
"Hey, uhh, w-where am i-I?" She questions as she rests her fingers along her temples.
"I-I don't feel so well" she pronounces, as she rubs her temples, keeping her eyes narrowed, as she focuses on the floor of the van.
"Sshh, you will be fine, if you listen and follow each and every one of my steps". I state with a stern tone, piercing her ears. She turns to me, a concerned expression moulds. "W-what d-do you m-mean?" Her voice trembles.
"There are some bad men in the warehouse right now," i begin as I whisper carefully, and most certainly with a hint of care. "These twisted men are on the verge of doing unspeakable things to you." I pause, at an attempt to read her expression. Fear. "I need you to slap me as hard as you can, and run. Run as far and fast as you can. There is a bus stop around the corner. I check my watch. It is due in five minutes. Run. And get on that bus. I will stall them." She nods desperately, as she shakes uncontrollably.
"Hit me" I demand. She nods hesitantly and slaps me moderately hard, leaving a pulsating sensation on my cheek. She exits the van and makes a run for it. My heart rate begins to pick up as I watch her take off. Risky. But I couldn't partake in their endeavours. I'm not cut out for this kind of job. Nausea enters my system, I could potentially have my life on the line.