Benedict Cumberbatch Imagines Prt. 2

Partners (10)

The music was loud, the room was dark with many lights flashing. You were with Christoper Sanders at one of his many clubs. Well, actually, you were at his newly acquired club. By acquired, it meant taken. By club, it meant his new distribution site. What better place than to distribute all kinds of drugs to drunk individuals that want to have fun? 

He sat on a chair looking over the people dancing and drinking below him. His new club had VIP balconies that gave him that extra privacy he so much adored. Beside him were you and his other women. Behind him and near the door were 3 men standing, protecting him at all times. 

You took a sip of your champagne. Sanders's hand was on your uncovered thigh. Since it was opening night for him, he wanted all his ladies dressed up. The other girls were snorting whatever was on the table. You crossed your legs and downed the rest of your flute. Immedetailey, someone came by to refill it. 

"You don't want anything else?" Sanders whispered into your ear. You thought for a second, "A kiss?" you furrowed your brows. He gave you a sly smirk and went in for a heated kiss. Once he departed, he was interrupted by one of the three men standing behind him. He leaned down to say something to him. 

His grip got stronger on your thigh. Something was wrong. Sanders visibly looked irritated. "We have a problem?" you questioned in a monotone, already knowing what that meant. "Seems like your old pal decided to come to the wrong club," he stood up and grabbed onto your hand so you could follow him. 

You two, plus his guards, followed him through the restricted area of the club. The music seemed distant from there. He led you to a room where there were a dozen monitors. Two men stood up immediately as they saw who entered the room. You were in the security room, looking through every camera the club had. 

"Fill her in," he looked at the guys who stood up. He grabbed onto your wrist before leaving, "Get rid of him and any other agent in this club. They don't know this one is mine, and they don't need to know." He tightly grabbed onto your jaw. "Do I make myself clear?" He menacingly looked at you. 

You had a monotone and calm posture. He always tried to control you and have power over you. Even though he knew that you stopped caring how he treated you. "When have I ever let you down?" you were able to conjure up a smirk. "That's my girl," he kissed you before he left the room.

You were left alone with the two men in the room. You knew one of them from previous encounters at Sanders's home. He was basically the intern to Sanders's main web security. "We have a breach. Our face analyzer caught a face," the more experienced spoke as he began to bring up files on one of the screens. 

"Benedict Cumberbatch, CIA agent. He walked in five minutes ago with another person. No information on her," he mentioned. You felt your heart sink to the bottom of your stomach, but your facial expressions didn't show that. 

"Where are they now?" you questioned. The intern pointed to a screen and zoomed in, "They are currently at the bar." That was definitely Ben, you could recognize those curls and face anywhere. "Nothing on the woman then?" you looked at both men. They simply shook their head. 

It's been two years and a few months since you were captured. You had little intel after those years. Lucky for you, you knew the ins and outs of the system the CIA used. "May I?" you motioned to take over one of the computers. The intern stood up and gave you his spot. You began to go into Ben's folder and noticed something odd. 

"Why does it say his last mission was 3 years ago?" Fury creeping into your tone. Both men looked at each other. You looked yourself up on the system. Your folder came up, and your title said, Agent. There were a few things on the table. Out of anger, you threw everything off.