𝐑𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 |𝟏𝟖+

40 || Taken

Song: The Weeknd - die for you (slowed + reverb)

𝔚𝔚𝔚
Josie

It may not take a few seconds for your world to flip upside down, but it does take a few seconds to realize that it's flipped upside down.

And that realization is arguably the worst feeling in the world.

Especially when you're left to wake against a cement floor, disoriented and confused, because that realization acts as a catalyst for the immense panic and dread.

I blink a few times before placing a shaky hand on the floor and lifting my head up to look around the space.

I wasn't chained, it wasn't dark, nor did it look similar to the punishment room in The Colony, which calmed some of my worries.

This looked to be an underground cellar of sorts, with brick stone along the walls, dim yellow lights and arched ceilings.

Voices echo through the walls and I try to bring myself to stand, but I can't seem to work up the strength, which tells me that whatever they sedated me with hadn't worn off just yet.

So instead, I follow the voices, crawling on my hands and knees to get a look around the corner.

My feet ache, the tall pointy heels I'm wearing are uncomfortable, but the chafing in my inner thighs from the straps has me pausing.

The gun.

I reach down, slip my hand under my dress and sigh out in relief when I feel the gun. I then move to unclasp the empty strap from my other thigh, pulling it out and moving to throw it to the side, but I flinch when something sharp prickles the tip of my finger.

With a low hiss, I pull my fingers back and examine the cut that's a little deeper than a paper cut.

More voices echo through the walls, and when I recognize the deep rumble of Nico's, I hastily pull the empty strap off my leg, leaving the other one - the one with the gun attached to it - in place as I peek around the corner.

My heart drops at the sight of Nico tied to a wooden chair along the far wall. He's got his hands tied behind his back, with each of his feet tied to a leg of the chair. His hair is a mess, there's traces of dirt along his jaw along with a cut on his cheek. His suit blazer is gone, leaving him in his ripped up black dress shirt.

I then trail my gaze to the people around him.

One, two, three, four, five.

Five men gather around Nico, all large and terrifying as Nico sits, tied to a chair in the centre of them. I can't make much of their faces, seeing as most of their back are turned to me, but I can hear them loud and clear.

"Surely this isn't all for me, is it?" Nico's the one speaking. Despite being tied to a chair, in front of five large men, Nico's leaned back and looks anything but scared. He tilts his head "I've gotta say, this is doing wonders for my ego."

"Shut up and tell us where to find him." One of the speak, his voice thick with an accent that I can only describe as similar to Zlata's.

Nico raises an unimpressed brow back at him. "You're not the brightest of the bunch are you, Megamind?" My brows furrow and I hate the way Nico seems to be making the situation worse for himself. "I can either shut up or talk. It's one or the other. Not both." He explains slowly, like one would speaking to a child.