Captive (Joe Goldberg x Rhys Montrose)

2

I wake up groggy, disoriented... At home. Would be nice to imagine it was all a dream but I've got marks from the chains and a throbbing in my skull to prove otherwise. With a sigh, I switch on the news and there it is.

Roald's dead.

My first thought is good riddance and I try not to smile. I mean... In my defence, he did try to kill me. He did decide that I was going to die whether I liked it or not, made himself my judge and called our little chase "peasant hunting". In my defence, there are many, many, many reasons he deserves to die that gruesomely but I grimace because I'm not meant to be happy about this. Right? Someone died. That's... A bad thing.

Fuck it. Let me enjoy this for a moment before I have to figure out what to do about Rhys.

This can't just be it. He was going to burn me too, down in that dungeon and now, I'm home and dressed and alive. He must be somewhere. He must be watching me, just like he did before.

Where... Are... You...?

They announce Gemma's death, too. I think of the way she treated that servant and can't help but feel glad Rhys picked out the worst of the lot, first. I feel some rage towards the rest who were more than comfortable with me being hunted and killed. I don't think I can stand schmoozing with them ever again. I don't want to see another one of their rotten, make-up caked faces-

Shit.

A knock on my door.

It's... Kate.

Telling her no is one of the hardest things I have done in a while. Harder than getting out of those chains, harder than helping Roald out of his when I should've just killed him in the first place. I mumble "see you in hell hunter" as I pour out a drink. Just a small glass of wine, nothing crazy. I shouldn't be so relaxed but after the day I've had, I figure I can worry about Rhys right after a brief moment of respite, maybe a good book to chase the thought of you away...

The feeling of metal on the back of my throat. A shiver runs through my body and I only manage a hitch of breath before you've knocked me out, again. I wake up with my entire body bound by stupidly thick rope. Fuck me. More marks, then. Alright.

You really trust me so little?

Have a little faith, Rhys.

"We meet again, Future Mayor Montrose. What's our destination, exactly...?"

"Ah. You're awake. And you've heard of my official announcement. I'm running for candidacy. Incredible, hmm? To think... A boy from such a poor part of town with such a horrific backstory is now in favour of winning the highest office in London."

"Well... We're all very proud for you. Taking one for all of us underdogs. The nothings and scum of the world must be as pleased as I am." His eyes soften. I'm not being sincere but he seems to appreciate it anyway. And because of that, I sort of begin to mean it, too. It is a pretty amazing thing he's done for himself, even if daddy's money helped when he met the man. If only you weren't an insane serial killer, you would've had my vote, Rhys. We could've even been friends. Instead I'm tied up in the back of your car, windows too tinted to see through.

"Just for that... I'm cooking you some breakfast when we get home."

What. The. Fuck.

"Yeah, you can't see out the window cos I covered it in newspaper. No guesses and no peeking! But let's just say you won't see a person there for miles. I... Like my privacy. Not even my 'friends' know where I currently live."

"Great. If you're gonna kill me, could you just get it over with, now?" He laughs softly, shakes his head with a fondness that honestly pissed me off and ruffles my hair. I will cut of your fingers one by one, Montrose. I've already had practise with toes. I know how to do it. I let my head loll back and try to get as comfortable as I'm able, letting the sound of the jazz he's drumming along to soothe me.

It's no time to rest. I ought to have been vigilant, I'm in a murderer's car for chrissakes. But I figure if he's killing me anyway, I might as well have a nice nap. Get energised for the main event.

Let's hope for your sake that you're able to kill me before I kill you.