Femme Fetale

Twenty Four

Another bucket of ice cold water is dumped on me. I don't scream anymore, just stare straight ahead as my torturer yells another slew of curses at me. Questions are asked. A slap to the face. A lighter to my fingers. Food placed in front of me, just out of reach. Heavy metal music blaring in the background of it all. In all honesty, I've no idea how long I've been here. It couldn't be more than a couple of days. The guard shifts hadn't rotated that much and this was only the third time they'd interrogated me. I could already feel the feeling leaving my arms, and the tips of my fingers are blistering. My face must be black and blue, and every once in a while I spit out blood. But the good news is I haven't passed out. Yet.

"Tell me! Where is Parker holed up!" The man in front of me shrieks for the hundredth time. But I don't see him. I don't spare him a glance. My focus is all on the man with the scar. He stands towards the back, a grim expression on his face. I stay quiet, merely staring at O'Donnel. How could someone do this to their own nephew? No matter how much money he'd taken.

The man torturing me turns and looks to O'Donnel, as if asking permission. O'Donnel doesn't say anything, just gestures with his head and everyone empties the room. He doesn't move for a while, watching me.

How humiliating is this? A top-grade assassin, falling for this childish trap. My mind must have been much too distracted to realise the threat that had been in front of me. If this gets around the underworld, I'll never hear the end of it. Besides, how had they even figured out that I am Wisp?

He moves then, his walk almost cat-like. My eyes stay glued to him as he makes his way forward, towards the equipment that was being used to torture me.

"What are you thinking, Ms.Wisp?" His Irish accents gives his voice a lilt, though it's not an accent I'm not familiar with. I stay quiet for a second.

"I'm thinking you need a better torturer." My voice is blunt and emotionless. Micheal O'Donnel doesn't say anything as he examines the tools laid out of the table. He picks up a hammer and pick, feeling their weight in his hands. He places them back down, then picks up the lighter, small in his hands. He turns to me, expressionless.

"Why would you say that?" He asks me.

"I can't give out all my advice for free," I reply, re-positioning myself in the chair I'm cuffed to. He raises his eyebrows. I've surprised him. "A friend of mine always said, 'If you excel at something-"

"Never do it for free'," He finishes for me. He smiles for the first time. The smile makes his scar look even more gruesome. "I have a feeling we have a mutual acquaintance, darlin'. I hear he's been looking for you." I stay quiet, my eyes narrowed.

He walks forward, playing with the lighter in his hand.

"Why are you protecting him?" O'Donnel asks, pulling a chair up so he sits across from me. I remain passive, watching him light the lighter then extinguish it. "Do you have feelings for him? Is that it?"

I don't say anything.

"Did he even tell you why I'm looking for him?" O'Donnel asks, leaning forward slightly. My silence amuses him, because he chuckles. "Of course he didn't. He probably said something about stealing from me, or maybe he went with the family feud line this time?" My heart hammers slightly, but I remain stoic. Parker had said something about stealing, hadn't he? He'd also mentioned an unfavorable outcome, but what had he meant by that? "Do you want to know what he did?" O'Donnel asks, leaning forward and placing the lighter under my fingertip.

He lights it.

The pain travels up my finger, through my arm and spreads throughout my body. I had endured torture far worse than this before. This is nothing compared to the initiation to the Colombian Cartel. Though I can't help the slight clench of my jaw. After all, I hadn't slept five hours since I'd gotten here.