Classified ☑

[ chapter 27 ]

Cold liquid ran down my forehead and off my nose. I blinked a couple of times, trying to wake up as I watched the drop fall to the ground and into a small puddle that had been forming by my shoes.

I moved to wipe the remnant off my forehead, but my arm wouldn't budge. Neither would my hands. At that point, I was fully awake.

Rope was tied across my chest and shoulders to the back of the chair I was sitting on. My wrists were also tied together and restrained behind me, making it hard to move at all.

The room I was in was cold and musty. Dark and rustic looking pipes ran along the ceiling with light peeking in where the ceiling and walls met. My guess was I was in a basement of some sort.

I tried to budge forward, but the chair legs only scraped against the ground.

Letting out an irritated sigh, I pushed myself to remember how I got here. I remembered trying to make a run for it but one of the guys had knocked me out cold before I even made it out of the room. Or I thought that's what happened, I couldn't remember anything besides trying to get out of there.

Which had failed. Miserably.

I also still had no idea what had happened to Dante. That feeling hurt the worst. I felt betrayed.

The sound of a door opening caused me to perk up in the chair. I didn't look behind me because I knew it'd be pointless. Eventually they'd show me their face. People always did. It was their way of getting the credit they thought they deserved.

Step by step, the person slowly made the way down the stairs into the basement. It seemed like they were trying to drag out the moment. Maybe they were curious to see how'd I react.

A hand touched my shoulder from behind and I involuntarily flinched, which I hated. The person chuckled, enjoying my discomfort. By the sound of their laugh and the size of their hand, I guessed it was a man.

"Oh, Nina. Nina Jones," I deep voice drawled out. "Or I should say Nina Evans." My last name hung in the air. The man was testing to see if I'd take the bait. "You know, most people would be yelling for help by now."

I snorted, keeping my eyes forward. "What's the point in that when I know no one can hear me?"

The man removed his hand from my shoulder and walked in from of me, his brows slightly narrowed like he couldn't quite figure me out. He was tall and well built for his age. One of his eyes was brown and the other a dark blue, the color that matched Dante's eyes.

He must be Dante's father.

But still no sign of Dante, a small voice told me.

A smile danced on his face as he continued analyzing me. "Why do you think that?"

I frowned, not really wanting to play the long game. I'd rather get to the point. If this was the man that Angel trained under, no wonder it took her forever to get to the actual part of trying to kill me.

"Because every spy movie on the planet has this scene. Someone's tied up and they yell out for help, but it never comes. And why would it? If you're kidnapping someone, you'd keep them somewhere where people couldn't hear them crying out for help."

The man started to laugh. At first I wasn't sure what was happening, but the way he dramatically wiped a nonexistent tear from his eye clued me in. "Oh man, you're funny like your old man was."

That comment felt like a punch to the guy. My dad loved to make people laugh.

"Now, I want you to think, long and hard. What else do those type of movies have in common?"