Damned If I Do *Matt Murdock* (book one of Damned)

Prologue

He's going to kill me, she realized in horror and her frantically beating heart stopped for a second before it sped up even more. She could hear her blood buzzing in her ears. If I don't give him something, I'm dead.

"You are quite loyal, aren't you? Why is that? Are you more than his ally? His girl toy, maybe? " He leaned forward, so his face was just inches from hers. He was trying to intimidate her. Like the punches and kicks and the freaking baseball bat in his hand wasn't intimidating enough. "Or are you're just plain stupid?"

She closed her eyes. And plead the fifth.

"TELL ME!" he roared and she flinched, new tears appearing on her cheeks.

I don't know! she wanted to roar back, but she already told him that. He was just too dumb to actually listen to her.

Tell him something! Buy yourself some time! He's gonna come eventually, right? He always comes. If someone cries loud enough, the Devil will hear him. But would he? Could he even come here? He was always hiding in the shadows of the night. Was it still night? Was it night already? How long had she been here? She had no idea. There were no windows. Where was she anyway?

He toyed with the bat in his hand, provoking her fear. She didn't want to give him or the other kidnappers the satisfaction of her screaming. But she wanted to scream. Badly.

She was fucking tired. It was cold, her clothes soaking wet, her body shivering, teeth clattering, ears ringing. She almost couldn't see through her tears and dried lenses. And it hurt. Everything. Every fucking cell in her body hurt like hell. It was getting harder and harder to breathe.

She whined when the bat collided with her arm. The pain was unbearable. The chair she was tied to swayed, but didn't tip over this time. She couldn't decide if she was glad or not.

He raised the bat again.

"Wait!" she yelped, her eyes squeezed shut, already waiting for the impact. It didn't come.

"He d-didn't show m-me hi-hi-his f-fa-face," she tried to talk, but talking hurt, her jaw hurt, her teeth were still clattering and her throat was so dry she could cry. Oh wait, she was crying.

The thugs shared an unimpressed look and with a sigh the bat was in the air again.

"But-" she squeaked. He stopped in mid-strike, eyebrow raised. "I kn-know his n-n-name."

For the first time, she realized there was one more man in the room. He was quietly siting in an armchair in the corner of the shady room all along. He rose to his feet and approached her. His voice sounded too sweet and polite.

"Well. Would you like to share with us?" His smile was awfully slimy.

He's damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't. She wanted to protect him. She wanted to protect herself.

Krucinál!

The silent man made a disapproving sound. "And here I thought we were getting somewhere..." He was halfway back to his armchair when he beckoned to the baseball man and the bat collided with her arm again.

She couldn't help it. She screamed at the top of her lungs, her voice echoing in the room, her chest vibrating with the sound.

"That's the spirit!" That motherfucker laughed. The other two just shared a grin. "It talks!"

She was hyperventilating, pain taking over, her vision clouded just like her mind.

Was she trembling because of the pain? Or it was the shiver? No, her body was probably too tired to warm itself up.

"The name," he hissed and she wasn't even sure if he said the words or if she just imagined it.

She sobbed.

"It's M-M-Mike," she barely whispered.

"What was it?" The quiet man stopped in his tracks.

"His name," she tried to force her voice to be more than just a silent move of her trembling lips. She couldn't make herself lift her head. "His name is Mike."

And then the lights died out.