Tom Holland Imagines

Fallen (Mob!Tom)

mob!tom holland x reader

 "Ms l/n, do you know how many men it took to get you here?" Thomas' annoying voice echoed through the interrogation room. I sighed in my chair and looked up. He stood there, an annoyed look on his face when I didn't answer, angering him even more.

"Twenty fucking men. And none of them could get to you," He crossed his arms.

"Osterfield did," I said my voice quiet from not talking for so long.

"By getting close enough to put a gun to the back of your head," he said sternly and I could tell he was pissed off.

"Not my fault your men are inexperienced," I said and suddenly felt a pain on my right cheek. Thomas' hand was still raised, prepared to hit me again if I said anything else.

"Right, now that that's settled let's start," he sat down in front of me and pulled a pockey knife out of his coat pocket. He opened it and reached towards me, slitting my jeggings down the middle of my thigh. I stared at the rip as my heart started to beat fast.

"Now, for every question I don't get answered, You get a new scar," I looked up at him and took discrete deep breathes. "Question one. Where is John?" I looked between him and the knife deciding whether it's worth it or not.

"I don't know," I said confidently and Thomas sighed bringing the knife to my thigh and cutting the skin, the blood pooled around the cut as I stared at it and Thomas staring at me, waiting for my reaction. When I had none he frowned.

"Question two. Are Grant and Blake in charge now?" I looked at him, that was such a stupid question, everybody knew that.

"You should know that yourself," I said and Thomas brought the knife to my thigh again and cut the skin above the last scar but still I had no reaction.

"Last question...for now. Do you have any safe houses around the country? America or Europe?" I moved my wrist around to try and get more comfortable but only ended up getting rope burn.

"Why would I tell you asshole?" This time instead of cutting the skin, Thomas made a deep cut intersecting with the other two, the blood pooled and soaked into my jeggings and this time I made a soft groan of pain, causing Thomas to smirk.

He stood up and motioned for one of his men. He whispered something in his ear and the man nodded. Thomas left the room and the man cut the rope from behind my back. He pulled me to my feet and started dragging me out of the room.

"What's your name?" I asked the man as he led me to the elevator.

"Sam," he said and I nodded.

"You seem nice, but I swear I know you from somewhere," I said the pain making me light-headed, I couldn't really walk on my right leg so Sam had to drag me. He chuckled and pulled me out of the elevator. "What's your last name, Sam?" I started slurring my words as I felt myself start to lose conscience.

"Holland," he said stopping outside of a room, 215. I barely had time to respond before Sam opened the door and pushed me in cutting the rope from behind my back and sitting me on the couch.

"Right, this will be your room for a little while. Get comfortable," He smiled and started to leave I looked around the room.

"What kind of a bedroom has a kitchen, living room, dining room, and three bedrooms. I'm pretty sure this is a house," I heard Sam laugh before closing the door. I layed on the couch and slowly lost conscience.