𝐂𝐑𝐘𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 | mitch rapp

13. 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
princess.

Angeline's head burned, along with her wrists and her ankles. A warm liquid was slowly gliding down the side of her head, the crimson colour staining her hair and matting it to her cheek slightly. She moved to touch the injury, grunting when she realised that her hands were tied to the chair she was sat in.

Her neck hurt from hanging back whilst she had been unconscious, a painful creak echoing in her ears when she raised it to look around the room. She was in the meeting room and the door was open, revealing all the way down the empty hall. The house was deadly silent until she heard footsteps.

The heavy boots coming up the staircase could have belonged to anyone-- her father, Elliot, Renolds, Winston, or Mitch. Angeline prayed it was the youngest of them all, however, when the head of security came into view, she realised she wasn't lucky enough to have Mitch saving her anytime soon.

"You're awake," Renolds said as he entered the room.

"Yeah, no fucking shit," Angeline scoffed, glaring up at him. "Did you really have to hit me over the head?"

"You stabbed me in the stomach with a pair of scissors, shot eight staplers into my left arm and fractured my kneecap," Renolds deadpanned, scowling when he saw the faint proud smile that crossed the teenage girl's lips.

"Okay, but head injuries are way more life-threatening," Angeline shrugged. "And I did just find out that my family are fucking terrorists!"

Renolds huffed. "Your father is on his way home right now and trust me, if you think you've seen him mad, then this is a whole other level of furious."

Fear pricked in the teenage girl, the emotion flashing across her face. "What's he gonna do?"

"Let's just say nobody can know about his plans," Renolds smirked. "And you, Angeline, are just about the biggest blabbermouth he knows."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

She flung her head back and groaned loudly, the noise causing her sensitive head to ache even more. Her dainty fingers were trying to fiddle with the rope wrapped around her wrists behind the chair, except it was no use. Angeline could barely bend her wrist high enough to skim the rough material and she knew even if she could reach it, there was no way she'd be able to get out of it. Angeline silently shifted her ankles around, seeing if she could loosen the ropes there. It was no use-- Renolds clearly knew what he was doing when he tied the knots up.

For a few minutes, Renolds was on the device that all security members had, typing away on it. He was most likely updating Mr Lewis that Angeline had woken up, which was not good. She assumed he was on his way, but if he wasn't and now he knew she was conscious, he might be.

"Fuck!" Renolds suddenly hissed as he kept hitting a button.

Angeline craned her neck, managing to see just about what he was doing. On the tablet, there was security footage of the front gate that was open, a figure marching up the driveway. She couldn't quite decide who it was, but Angeline assumed he had somehow granted himself access, despite Renolds pressing the button to keep the gates closed.

"Who is it?" She asked, not expecting an answer.

The front door slamming open downstairs made the both of them jump and Renolds quickly whipped the pistol out from around his waist, making Angeline's brown eyes widen. She kept silent, watching as he headed out of the meeting room and down the stairs.

"Fuck," she whispered, scrambling even harder to get the ropes to give way.

Everything was silent apart from her own heavy breathing and the scraping of the chair when a gunshot went off downstairs. Angeline whimpered as several more shots followed. She could hear Renolds yelling out in pain, followed by one more shot and then silence.