Page 5 of Taint My Soul

The man steps close enough for me to see him. He stands in a black suit with a long black tailcoat jacket. Smoke swirls from the lit torpedo cigar trapped between his fingers. He leans closer, and the light pours over his salt and pepper locs.

My throat works, eyes holding his gaze for only a moment before I look away.

“I would have made a lot of money selling you off at an auction.” His lips thin into a slow, decadent smile, revealing a set of white teeth. He straightens up and retreats into the darkness. “But here we are. Queenstown. You must be one lucky guy, huh?” He moves around me, each step measured, and the sound of his shoes against the floor sends a chill down my spine.

Queenstown? I grew up there, not in the city, but in a small town near the mountains. I lived there most of my life with my late parents, then my uncle.

When the other man, who had lingered behind him the entire time, steps into the light, my thoughts return to reality, and my heart sinks.

Uncle David. Speak of the devil.

The faint scent of his cologne hits me first, and my spine goes rigid.

My pulse stumbles, then slams harder.

My heart races, but it’s not fast enough to catch up with the breath that saws out of my lungs.

My throat goes dry, tasting the rust from the leaking roofing sheets of the old, dilapidated building.

The scar along his jaw catches the light. It was my parting gift to him before my escape.

I escaped. I escaped. I escaped.

My mind reiterates, but my body refuses to catch up.

He’s here. He’s right here, and I’m right back where I have been my whole life. I should have known he’s the one who forced me back into the darkness I have been running from.

I’m the prey.

Again. Again. Again.

He smirks, his eyes darkening into something monstrous. He doesn’t need words to scare me. My mind already plays everything he’s done in a constant loop. No matter how hard I try to push it back, it seeps through the cracks until it takes the wheel of my thinking.

How did he find me? Am I ever going to escape him again? Is this it? Will I die?

“You are sure he’s capable of pulling this off.”

“Yes,” David answers. “He doesn’t have a choice.” He regains his footing, passive gaze still trained on me.

“You do not have a choice.” The man sneers at David. “You know if he fails, it will be your brains painting the walls of this fucking room.”

David’s jaw tightens, the excitement in his eyes retreating into something else.

Fear.

“I understand, Vincent.”

The soldier at the corner moves toward David and forces him to his knees, twisting his arms back. A scream shreds his throat, and he grunts as the man in the black suit, Vincent, as he had called him, steps in front of him. He takes a drag of his cigar, then brings the foot close to his cheek until the heat burns into his skin. “It’s Mr. Bishop or Godfather to you. Let me remind you that you practically groveled at my feet until I changed my mind about your nephew. You got on your knees like a man-child and you fucking wept. Disrespect me again and I will have your head.”

“I’m sorry, Godfather.” David’s voice comes out strangled.

The burly man drags David across the floor and forces him back to his feet with a shove.

Boots click against concrete as someone else slips through the open door and enters the cold room. It’s another man. Is this a fucking trinity of villains? I can’t make out his features because he doesn’t step any closer. He remains in the darkness. Something they all have in common.

“You made it.”

“Of course, I did.” He says. “I paid a huge sum for our pawn.” The man doesn’t seem very happy with the money he spent.