Freeing Clara

14. Dark Discoveries

A/N:

As stated in the last update, from 9 months ago... geesh, sorry about that...I will be changing Clara's age and education. Clara is 19 and is on her sophmore year of college. This makes me feel a little better about the age gap.

Lots of love
Annelie Leddy

***

Flint tossed and turned in bed, waiting restlessly for Callum to arrive with the Chef. Laying on a full size bed in the blue painted room with tiled flooring, he pondered theories of where Clara could be. Her parents house was too obvious and Callum had already had people watching her parents house on account of her father's involvement with the church. He knew it had to do with them however an odd feeling made him wonder if it was someone else. The man who had attacked her years ago was still in prison. The men who had been taking photos of her, they had to be in on it, but how? How can a pedophile be bought to stalk a girl who was older than his usual preference? That thought alone made Flint turn over and nearly puke.

Meanwhile, as Flint tossed and turned, Callum was in deep thought sitting in the front seat of a black cadillac.

Sighing, Callum wondered about his stake in the game. What he had to lose. He needed to accomplish this, get Clara back, tear down the cult's hold on the city, have Flint repay him with the fights and get what rightfully belongs to him back. He needed it. He felt a surge of anguish, anger, fear, impatience. He was getting to his breaking point.

Pulling into the gravel lot a fire was bursting in Callum's chest. As soon as the car was parked he exited the car without hesitation.

"Get him out. I want him strung up somewhere terrifying, dark, and really fucking cold."

As his men were ready to move the chef from the car into the wharehouse, the door to the wharehouse opened.

"Lets get this fucker strung up. I got a place thats dark and freezing, he'll cry just from the cold," Najeem says from the doorway allowing Callum's men to bring their guest, who adorned a hood over his head and some zip ties around his wrist and ankles, into the wharehouse.

Callum cant help it, his his lip twitches, a smirk trying to form but the fire in him was still burning.

"You want a job?" Callum says as he passes Najeem, entering the wharehouse.

"Shut up," Najeem spits out slaming the door shut behind him.

Najeem did good, Callum thought. It was cold in the basement room and dark to the point that the imagination could run wild with possibilites with what lay in the abyss. The temperature wasnt that of an ice box but it was a perfectly uncomfortable temperature. The settings for these types of things held meaning. The more uncomfortable the guest is, the worse the torture will be. It adds another layer. A small lamp in the corner was another layer, it left some hope that things could change but the minute it goes out the fear of the unknown was too haunting. Psychological turmoil with the pain that Callum would enflict would be the push they needed for someone as cocky as the chef.

Sitting in a chair in the center of the room. The chef was groggily awaking from "resting his eyes" as Callum liked to call it.

"You stupid fucking dickless swine. We've been here once, you remember what happened?" Callum said almost calmly.

The chef was alert now. He understood what was occuring. There was no doubt in his mind that his actions have come back to haunt him and the best way to get out is to talk. A billowing sense of pride latched onto the chef.

"No words? Dont worry, I make people talk. Its what I do best," Callum smiles. The smile was like a shark showing a fish its teeth. A lumber jack sharpening its axe in front of the tree it was going to strike. A butcher deciding which knife to choose as a chicken stared at him, ready for the beheading. A serial killer displaying their weapons before the kill.