MY SEVEN BOYFRIENDS ARE IN A BOYBAND - Polyamourous Smutts

CHAPTER 44

The first thing Kimberly could comprehend was a tapping sound, repetitive, soft but fast, too fast to be a clock, maybe someone tapping something.

She couldn't place the location of her hands, her senses heightened fast as she regained consciousness, but kept her eyes shut.

She was definitely in an enclosed space, cool and quiet, except for the tapping.

The room smelled old and rusty, and also bitter, like a basement. This slight cold humidity must have been stone walls.

Her sense of hearing sharpened, and she heard the unmistakable sound of breathing, other people breathing, and then she understood how she was positioned at the moment: Her arms were above her head, wrists tied up together, her heels could barely brush the concrete floor, her hung body swayed side to side.

Kimberly opened her eyes and groaned as her mind flickered awake, her body stiff from being restrained for so long.

She had lost track of time.

She tried to shuffle her shoulders, finding it much easier to relieve her stiffness. Her arms where secured above her head with a rope around a metallic tube, connecting them, not holding her back as much as they wished to.

The room definitely looked like a basement, sad grey walls enclosed a space barely bigger than a bathroom, a table stood at the far end, with an open case, it contained and presented familiar torture devices, the scars on her body already knew how painful they were to experience, yet she also knew these people and their weapons were outdated, just slightly, and used similar weapons she had once used.

"Amateurs, they didn't even take my shoes off," Kimberly gaze darted around at the people staring at her, and located the black-haired guy in front of her, who had been tapping his foot over and over again,.

"About time," he said with a low growl. The guy was dressed in black, surrounded by two girls around Kimberly's age, one dark skinned and one red-haired, and a tanned guy too, typical surfer cliché, all young, early twenties, well built, yet they all looked the same, blandly generic, alarmingly hostile.

Maybe they were the last generation of Hunters before Evie ruined everything.

"Former hunters," Kimberly laughed a little. She had seen many Hunters graduate, many unworthy of the mantle, and these four gave that impression. To her, only Blackfox, Evie and herself were worthy of being hunters, and perhaps if Zeth wasn't a monster she would consider him worthy. His way of thinking, his ability to deal with a thousand things at once, his training at Guardian Fort and his travels with Zer Everett Frostakov in his youth? Oh yes, all that made him a worthy Hunter, a monster who fought worse monsters and she wasn't referring to the Zeldrichs. Yes, she knew all about Zeth, a legend who seemed to live up to his own legend. But this little group of bullies? Please! They looked like they were from a teen movie!

"Former Hunters indeed," said the black-haired guy, "And if we don't take your shoes off, it's because we already know you won't be able to use them against us."

Wow they were stupid!

"Oh! Who would have known!" She giggled, "I guess you've seen that my shoes are old school."

"From the old school of hunters, your right heel has a switch blade inside, and your left heel has lock picks," The black-haired guy walked around Kimberly's suspended body, then eyed her up and down, "But I don't see how you can take them right now."

"I'm quite flexible, I raise my pretty legs, I hold the heel, POP the heel comes off, CLICK I switch out the blade, SLASH I cut the rope and POW, POW, POW, you all fall down! I hope my lesson helps you in the future." Kimberly laughed.