Cookie tightened the ruthless hold she had on the man in front of her. Her nails dug into the scruffed skin of his chin hard enough to draw blood, and no matter how hard the man tried to jerk away, Cookies grip kept firm, always directing his attention back to her.
The man in front of her, bloody and bound to a shaky wooden chair, had to be at least double her age, new in town and with an inferiority complex, clearly unaware of what he was getting himself into when he kidnapped Cookie's right hand in an effort to weaken her.
The man's eyes were glassy and unfocused, so Cookie turned his head painfully to a nearby table, knives, guns, and other distinctively sharp looking weapons littered on the dark surface.
Cookie finally let go of the man's face, taking the few steps to the table and picking up a knife. She held it in an unhinged fashion, throwing it into the air only to catch it by the handle again and again. The light from the constant bulb ahead glinted off the blade every time.
Cookie refocused on the man in front of her, "Everything in here can kill you." She promised, nodding not only to the table but also to the two men in stiff suits guarding the door, "But I can do it the most efficiently."
She caught the knife with a sense of finality and stalked towards the man, who gulped audibly.
"So," she drawled, keeping the knife in his area of view, "you better tell me what the hell you did with Locks'"
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OTP Prompts But Its COATS And Mostly Platonic
Short StoryBite-sized OTP prompts with COATS By Cookie
