Wrong Place, Wrong Time

Chapter Fourteen

Magdalena

I'm unfortunately zoning back in. I'm a bit surprised to find myself back in the room with the other guys. My mind wanders back to what Malcolm said, when my eyes glide past him.

I'm your worst nightmare. I thought Malcolm was the leader of this pack of worms, but from the description he gave of the others, I'm no longer convinced that he is. Would the people working beneath you be described as people for hire? I don't think so, and Scarface is apparently next in line for the mafia. No one is above the leader of a mafia, right? At least not in the movies I've watched. So who is Malcolm?

I'm giving myself a headache and decide to lay the question to rest for a bit. I'm sure more details will reveal themselves the longer we're being kept here.

They are talking among themselves in a foreign language again. I've narrowed the language down to be either Russian, Ukrainian or Polish. I don't plan on asking them what the language is, it seems unimportant. I feel like I've got more pressing matters, like, avoid being auctioned off. I'd rather they kill me. I know they said they'll get me out of here, but I see no reason why they would. If they are as powerful as they seem to be implying, and are infamous in their line of work, I fail to see the significance of my little life in their eyes. I'm nothing to them, and if I disappear or die here it won't have any consequences for them as I'm not linked to them at all. I'm on my own here, nothing new. I've always been alone and always will be. My upbringing has taught me nothing else.

I won't disregard their kindness and the comfort they've provided. I'm not an ungrateful person, at least I don't think I am. I'll keep our conversations civil and polite, but I'll just end up hurting myself if I get my hopes up and believe they'll get me out along with them. I do realize I won't be getting out of here on my own and, since I have no guarantee they'll save me along with themselves, my conclusion is that I'll die here.

Looking around at them all individually, something doesn't add up to me. The sheer sizes of the men in this room, their build, the underlying tone of their socioeconomic status – how were they captured? How are they here right now? There is just no fucking way. Are Weasel and his men secretly supernatural creatures who are stronger than Thanos? Weasel is too scared to approach Malcolm, even when he is tied up with chains that look like they belong on a crane. My head is starting to hurt. Probably a mix of dehydration and overthinking.

As if someone just read my mind, the door slams open, making me tense up as much as humanly possible. No one enters the room, but three water bottles are hurled into the room. One of the bottles hits Malcolm in the face, but the door slams shut just as fast as it was slammed open. Oof, I would have cried if that hit me, but Malcolm didn't even react.

"My list of people to 'fuck up a little' is quickly turning into a 'to kill' list." Malcolm enlightens the room. I knew he was conjuring up something in that mind of his. Isaac laughs at his statement.

"You didn't mistake this for a vacation, did you Smiley?" Isaac smiles humorously.

"Almost, the chair is growing on me. I don't remember the last time I sat down for this long. It might be time for me to stretch my legs soon." He half smirks back at Isaac. Stretch his legs? They look at each other in understanding. I wish I understood too.

My focus lands back on the water we've just been provided. Scarface needs water, especially with his nasty wound. I'm the smallest person here, so the amount of water I need is significantly smaller than the amount the others need. Even if they don't have any intention of including me in whatever plans I'm sure they're working on, I at least want them to have the strength to execute their plan and take the Weasel dude and his men down. I want them to suffer. I haven't forgotten the eyeless man from the other room either. The thought of the empty holes in his face makes me physically shiver. As a nurse I've seen my fair share of fucked up cases, but nothing as brutal as what they did to that poor man. I inhale deeply and blow the air out quietly in an attempt to keep the nausea at bay.

Nico can reach the water, and I think he can reach Malcolm as well, even with the shackle around his ankle. He won't be able to reach Isaac or Scarface though. He gets up and collects the bottles. He unscrews the cap on one as he walks to Malcolm. Malcolm says something to him in the other language, and Nico nods and turns his head to me as he rolls a bottle on the ground towards me. I give a little nod of appreciation but say nothing, this makes Malcolm furrow his brows for just a split second. Nonetheless, he tilts his head back and allows Nico to pour water into his mouth. He empties half the bottle and Nico drinks the rest. I remember the sip of water I had earlier, when I collected it in my hands. They didn't get any water then, and yet they offer it to me as one of the first. They confuse me. Maybe it's just the hospitality that seems to be instilled deeply in Malcolm.

I grab the bottle off the ground and make my way towards Scarface. He watches me closely as I approach him. I unscrew the cap and reach it out towards him, silently offering him some. He blinks at me but doesn't object, so I take it as a 'go ahead'. He takes a few big gulps and then nods. He needs to drink more than that.

"Drink more." I urge him. I almost don't recognize my voice, it sounds so robotic. He shakes his head at me.

"You drink." Scarface orders me. I take a small sip.

"There, now drink more." He studies me a bit stunned by my lack of liveliness, I guess. I don't know what he sees in my eyes, or what he is looking for, but he does as I tell him. He stops after finishing half of the bottle, like Malcolm and Nico. They aren't hurt like he is, so he'll need more fluid to make up for it. "You need to drink the rest." He shakes his head at me stubbornly. "Please." I add, this is as far as my convincing skills reach. He sighs annoyed, but surprisingly obliges. I nod in satisfaction and turn towards the others. Nico stands ready with the last bottle in his outstretched hand. I walk timidly towards him on my shaky legs. His fingers brushes mine as I grab the bottle, and I flinch back, dropping the bottle. I take a breath in an attempt to calm myself. Get it together, Lena.

We both bend down at the same time to retrieve the bottle and bang our heads together. My hand flies to my forehead where I got struck. I realize his hands are also on my forehead. His wide eyes searches mine in worry and I finally get a proper look at him. His appearance almost demands attention. He is easily six feet tall, his physique is lean and athletic, suggesting both strength and agility. Both his arms are completely covered in tattoos. His deep set, expressive eyes are a mesmerizing shade of hazel, reflecting both warmth and determination. His jawline I well-defined and his high cheekbones give his face a sculpted quality. A mop of tousled, chestnut-brown hair adds to his appeal. Oh god, I've been staring at him for too long now. My cheeks heat in embarrassment. I pull back from his touch. I clear my throat and quickly collect the bottle from the ground.

"Sorry." I apologize monotonously. I quickly turn away from him, so I can give Isaac some water. He has been waiting too long. I crouch down to where he is seated on the floor, with his hands still shackled behind his back. His eyes are soft, and he is giving me a comforting smile.

"There you are, love." He states, as if he has been waiting for me to come back from a trip. His voice is soft, low, almost a whisper. My eyes snap to his, and the look he gives me almost makes me tear up, so I quickly avert my eyes.

"Here, drink." I encourage him, holding the bottle to his mouth. He gulps down half a bottle as well.

"You need to drink something as well." Isaac tells me.

"I'm fine, don't worry about me." He scoffs amused, obviously not believing a word I'm saying.

"The human body can't go much longer than three days without water. You need to drink, or you'll die from dehydration. I do think you're aware of this already, little nurse." He is right, I do know this already. Dying from dehydration sounds like a much better outcome than any other possibility available to me. "Unless that's your plan." His eyes darken for the first time since I've met him. His voice lowers dangerously. "What did they do to you?" I don't look at him, I don't want him to see the humiliation and shame burning within me.

"Nothing that matters. I'll leave the bottle with Nico, wave if you need assistance." I go to stand from my crouched position when a throat being cleared catches my attention. Malcolm is looking right at me, and he doesn't look pleased.