To Slow a Treacherous Heart ✓

16| A Pain in the Past

Chapter Sixteen: A Pain from the Past

[Earlier that Morning]

Her head was pounding.

It felt as though someone had decided to take a jackhammer to her head.

God, why won't it stop?

Cold, crisp air hit her like a tornado, filling her with confusion and fear. She opened her eyes and blinked rapidly at the harsh light that stung them.

The figure before her became clearer and clearer. His shoulder-length greying hair hung loosely around his head, making him look more like a maniac than a man. It made the queasiness in her stomach increase and the pounding in her head seemed to have received a coating of ice over every bang. The queasiness began to make its way up to her throat.

God, she hoped she wouldn't wretch.

Fear felt like a cold bullet that pierced through her heart in ways she never thought possible. The half-withered man in front of her stretched his lips to form a manic-like smile.

He had been her father's best friend.

He was holding a gun.

And it was aimed directly at her heart.

"Bonsoir ma chére! How nice it is to see you awake!"

"Well, I would say the same; but you're holding a gun at my face so I couldn't." she said, trying to keep herself as steady as possible. Her hands and legs were tied behind her, and there was a silk, ebony gag hanging low on her neck.

Her cheeks felt itchy and sticky and her eyes were stinging.

Had she been crying?

Horror began to creep up her throat.

Horror, pain and anger.

So much anger.

He let out the most agonizing laugh her ears had ever been deemed with. She felt herself go cold all over. Her heart was beating so fast she felt it might suddenly stop.

And then realization hit her.

All she remembered from the previous night was talking to him about all that had happened in the past few weeks.

About Ryan.

And Vendetta.

"Why am I here?"

"But of course, haven't you got it yet?" he said. "Come, come Chére; I expected more from you,"

"Sorry to disappoint," she sneered. Behind her, she tried twisting her hands out of her bonds, but it was all in vain. Thorne was a circus man. And circus men knew their knots.

"Ah, Chére do not be a-what do they call it? Mais oui, a spoil sport. Come, I shall help you," he said. "Who else knew so much of your life that he knew exactly what kind of garçon you would love? Your friends?" he snorted. "They didn't even know you,"

And suddenly, it clicked.

But how?

And more importantly-why?

"Y-you're Vendetta?" she asked, after her mouth dropped open.

He gave a smile so sinister it could melt the polar icecaps.

Her hands felt clammy. She began to shiver.

"Ah, and now we come to la piece de résistance, oui?" he asked.