A Game of Deception

Chapter 3

Hi loves, I'm Arden. I also write under the username yabookprincess here on Wattpad. I'm really excited to bring you another chapter of this story and I hope you all enjoy it. Have a lovely day/week <3

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We stared at each other in silence as he leaned close, watching my every move. After a few moments of intense scrutiny, he must've realized I wouldn't tell him anything. Not willingly.

"Perhaps you're right, Eliza," he spoke after a while.

The way he said my name sent shivers up my spine. There was something not only in his tone but also in the intensity of his gaze. I instantly knew this was a man who always got what he wanted. "We got off on the wrong foot. Tell me," he pushed himself off and headed toward his liquor tray. "Do you like whiskey?"

"Is this your tactic? Think getting me drunk will make me talk?" I laughed, but it was without humor. There were worse punishments, I supposed. He could break my bones or try to rip my nails off, like they did to one of Doug's former employees when he got caught. Then they dumped his body in the nearby river.

It's another reason why Doug was so eager to have me on his team. He was down someone with my skills and had a job he needed to be done.

"Would you rather I torture you instead?" he asked, meeting my eyes. There was a slight smirk on his face.

I was perplexed. He seemed to be playing some sort of game with me. Whatever it was, I was sure I could play him right back. And win.

"Whiskey's fine," I answered innocently, ignoring his question.

He poured us two glasses and handed one to me. I sniffed it, trying to detect any drugs but that was never my strong suit. Great poisons are undetectable. Still, good poisons do get the job done just the same.

"How do you like my house?" he asked, taking a sip of his drink.

"You've got a lot of art on display," I commented. It was the only thing that came to mind. So many things to steal, so much money just ready to be made. If only I hadn't gotten caught.

"Yes, I'm an art collector among other things. I own many valuable, rare pieces. So what exactly were you after?" he asked.

"This and that, you know," I avoided giving him any real answers.

"No, I don't. Why don't you tell me?"

"Listen, you seem like a nice guy, why don't you just let me go and I promise I won't try to rob you again?" I truly attempted to give him one of my most beautiful smiles.

He laughed in my face. My smile fell and I stared at him, unamused. "When you say it like that, I can't refuse."

"Really?" I asked warily.

"No," he deadpanned. "You're not going anywhere until you tell me who sent you. If that takes years, then so be it. Your freedom is up to you."

"You can't just keep me here. It's called kidnapping," I pointed out, flabbergasted.

"I'm not keeping you here," he replied. "That would be like giving a murderer an axe. No, you're coming with me somewhere your friends won't be able to find you."

"You can't be serious," I said.

He didn't reply, taking a sip of his whiskey and tried to hide that smug smile of his. He was enjoying this.

"Why don't you just turn me in to the police?" I asked.

"Because, firecracker, I've got many enemies. And I'd like to know just which one dares to steal from me. Rest assured, there will be repercussions."

I was starting to panic now, so much so that my mind didn't even register he called me firecracker again. He couldn't just do this to me. It's illegal.

My mind raced as I looked around for a weapon to attack him with and escape. The only thing remotely sharp was the glass in my hand. I looked at him and tried not to give away the idea I've gotten. I had to stall.

"Please, just let me go. If I tell you anything, I'll get killed."

"That means nothing to me," he replied coldly. Everything about him was cold now. I clutched the glass in my hand, still full of the drink he poured and I tried to remember if he locked the door after entering.

"So human life means nothing to you, then?" I asked.

"Not the life of my enemies, no."

"I'm not your enemy," I pleaded.

"You work for one. And you tried to rob me, or do you deny that too?" he asked.

"Will it get me out of here?" I asked.

"Last chance. Tell me who hired you and you'll be free to go," he said, taking a step closer to me.

I shook my head. I wasn't a snitch. Holding the glass up in my hand, I swung up and threw it at his head. It smashed him in the forehead, breaking apart in pieces.

I took my opportunity while he was stunned to bolt. I headed towards the door, my exit out of the room I was stuck in for hours. Where the hell did my team go? Would I be able to escape on foot? I didn't have time to think, only act.

I prayed that the door was unlocked. When the handle turned and the door opened, I was momentarily relieved. Then I ran, trying to navigate the endless hallways in the dark. I didn't know where I was or where I came in from.

I heard his footsteps in the distance behind me. I was still far enough ahead. If I could just find a way out...

After a few seconds of running, I finally found the back door and I ran like hell. Ran like hell through the flowers I've had a view of hours before and towards the far back of the property, towards the trees.

I could hear him shout behind me but I didn't dare to look back. My chest screamed from pain but my legs kept going.

Once in the woods, I kept running until I could no longer and hid behind a tree. The man followed behind me for a while, but I couldn't hear him anymore. Not over my gasps for air. I tried to quiet down and look around carefully to see if he was anywhere close.

Silence followed. I waited for a few more seconds and then pushed away from the tree I was leaning against and ran straight ahead. I didn't know where I was going.

I didn't get far, however, because I was tackled from the side.

Falling on the ground with his weight on top of me, I screamed and tried my best to push him off.

"Stop fighting," he ordered me.

"Let go of me," I screamed at him, trying to hit him. He shifted his weight and I didn't know why until I felt something sharp inserted into my neck. I thought at first that he had a knife until I saw a needle, its contents now emptied out.

My world started going blurry and I peered up at him, noticing the fresh gash on his forehead. My last thought before I blacked out was that I was in deep trouble.

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The exciting thing about this story is that nobody knows where the next writer will take it. I'm really looking forward to reading chapters from my fellow writers.