Carlton ✔

11| The Safehouse Ambush

ALSO, this chapter was really hard to write, please do vote and comment and let me know how it was, I'm literally sweating.

If there's any mistake, please point it out ^^

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Dedicated to:TheLazyishWriter

Boy, I think I might be in love with you XD I can't thank you enough for your tremendous support and love and beautiful comments!! Staw awesome mon amour!!

"I will fight for you no matter how hard the battle is."

~ Pinterest

Carlton's POV

"Father? Where are Mom and Caden?"

A self-assured voice speaks from a distance, "How many times do I have to tell you, kid, they left."

"But why?! I thought we were a family! Family always sticks together! Just like in this picture I drew in class today with my crayons. Mom and Caden and I and you are all holding hands and going around the mulberry bush–"

"Carlton, go to your room! Now!"

Everything around me was bright white, warbled patches of different colors floated in front of my vision.

"...he's waking up..."

The voice seemed to have come from far away. I began to twitch my eyelids, felt the gentle rush of blood in my fingertips and toes, endeavored to turn my neck around.

There was a throbbing pain that shot up both of my arms, causing me to squeeze my eyelids but not being able to open them yet.

I started to become aware of my rhythmic heartbeat, and the moderate humming in my ears. Where was I?

"He's up!"

I felt a presence in front of me and right before I could try to look up at this person, something hit my jaw vehemently and my head jerked left.

My eyes snapped open and I began to cough, my chest heaving painfully. I tried to lift my hand up to touch my jaw, that was just brutally punched, and it was then that I realized what was going on.

I was sitting on a chair, and both my hands were handcuffed behind it. All my efforts to break free were vain. Why do I always end up getting handcuffed for no apparent reason without even knowing what the fuck is going on?

Lifting my head up, I found another chair, a few feet away, with a man sitting on it. He had a prominent scar through his eyes and long black hair that fell to his shoulders. It seemed like we were in a room without windows, a very old, grimy room with nothing but a white overhead bulb, on a ceiling that was very low.

A single door stood bolted shut behind the man. Several other men were standing all around the room, most of them wearing black clothes, armed with pistols, silver grillz shining dangerously under the weak light and tattoos snaking down their arms, screaming experience.

"Done lookin' around?" The scarred man on the chair said, his smug grin exclaiming accomplishment. He juggled a dagger in his hands as he sat back with one leg propped on his knee.

And then I saw it – on his wrist was my limited edition, pre-ordered Tag Heuer watch!

No one takes my limited edition Tag Heuer watch!