Shay
Hours passed with nothing happening.
She sat upright as the door unlocked with abrupt suddenness, startling her from her trance. There had been no noise to signify that someone was approaching.
The door slid open and a man in a gray suit walked in, his strides smooth and even, barely making a noise. He was so light on his feet he practically floated. Her eyes were not drawn to his feet for long though as she looked up at his face.
The man was completely bald, any remaining hair taken right down to the skin. What appeared to be a permanent leer was emblazoned upon his face. Worst of all though was the ugly red scar that started at his right eyebrow and ran up over his head, disappearing behind it.
Bright blue eyes focused on her, watching the reactions playing over her face as she tried to contain her revulsion.
“Who are you?” she spat out, trying to get around him and out the door.
The security guard from earlier appeared with a little folding tray containing a pitcher of water and two glasses. His presence forced Shay to back farther into the room. The guard put the table down to the side, and then reached outside to grab two folding chairs. He swiftly opened them and then arranged everything so that the two chairs faced the door with the table between them.
Then he left, closing the door behind him.
Shay noted that he didn’t lock it.
“Sit,” the man in the suit said simply, his voice compelling her to obey while at the same time presenting her with an undertone that threatened her if she didn’t do as he said.
It was a powerful combination that she couldn’t resist.
“Where is my father?” she asked, unwilling to completely submit to the sheer force of his will.
“Manners,” the man said, giving her a wink with his scarred eye.
Shay shuddered, ignoring his offer of having a drink first.
“We shall drink first,” he said. “Choose your glass.”
Her angry glare seemed to just wash over him as he continued to stare at her, waiting for her answer. When it became apparent he wasn’t going to cave anytime soon, Shay picked a glass at random and waited while he filled it.
“Cheers,” he said, raising his glass to her and taking a long sip of the ice water.
Shay held out for a moment longer, but the cool liquid was calling to her after being trapped in the room for so long. She knew the glass might be drugged, but at that point, they had her at their mercy anyway. What would the point in drugging her be? If they wanted her dead, she’d be dead already.
“Better,” the unknown man said. His voice was clipped but cultured at the same time. As if he’d gone to a school that forced him to speak a certain way, but he’d rebelled against that later in life, only to find out he couldn’t rid himself of it completely. It was an odd combination that grated against her ears each time he spoke.
“Where is my father?” she asked again, ignoring her own safety.
“I was hoping that you might be able to tell us that, Ms. Lyon,” he said, crossing his right leg onto his left as he spoke, trying to affect an air of nonchalance and failing miserably.
“I haven’t heard from him in months. Why the hell would I have come and sneaked in to your base if I knew where he was?” she asked, staring at the man like he was an idiot.
The stranger worked his jaw, red flashing across his cheeks for a brief moment.
He didn’t think of that. Not too smart this one, is he? Yet obviously he’s somehow in charge. Perhaps by brute force?
“Your father was…out on a mission for us,” he said after a short pause. “That mission, unfortunately, did not pan out as planned. But he is currently unaccounted for.”
Shay cringed internally. “Is that code for…dead?” she asked nervously.
The man smiled, the action taking his permanent leer and disfiguring it into something horrific, a grinning visage of death incarnate straight out of some deranged artist’s nightmare.
“No, but if he doesn’t report soon, or if he fails us again, it is likely he will be terminated.”
“Like, from the company?” she asked, immediately realizing how childish and blind she sounded.
The man just grinned his grin.
Right. I knew he meant kill.
“Who the hell are you people?” she asked.
The man pulled something from his pocket before he replied, but didn’t show it to her right away. “If this man is who I think he is, then you already know who we are.” He held up a picture, showing Justin in the lobby of her hotel.
“How?” It was the only word she could get out.
“We took the liberty of removing your things from your hotel room. Apparently your friend here did not take too kindly to that. Now, who is he?”
Something clicked in Shay’s brain, lining everything up so that things made sense.
“No,” she whispered, appalled at what her conclusion meant. “You’re the Agency?”
The repulsive grin grew larger, threatening to rip his face in two, disfiguring him even more. “So he is who I thought. Excellent. Now I have a face.”
But Shay was too overwhelmed to hear it. Another thought was pounding at her brain, making her sick to her stomach.
Her father was working for them. For a group interested in wholesale genocide of an entire species.
She turned to the side and dry heaved, unable to contain her disgust. The room spun around her, made worse as the man in the suit began to laugh. Shay was at her breaking point. Everything that she had thought was on an upward spiral had come crashing down in the space of a few hours. Most of it was because of her own stupidity, but there was no lamenting that now.
Something inside of her creaked and groaned as it reached the limit of how far it could stretch. She either went over the edge and lost all control, or—
Her head snapped up violently as she rounded on the bald man, whose laughter died abruptly. Shay wasn’t ready to break, not today. Inside she felt herself snap back, pulling away from the abyss that had threatened to swallow her. No, she had gotten herself into this mess, and she was the only one who could get herself out.
There had to be a way, but to find it, Shay would have to remain alert and focused.
“You have more spirit than I anticipated,” the man said, calmly meeting her glare and letting it wash over her.
Still, Shay noticed a modicum of respect filter into his gaze as she didn’t back down this time.
“But there are ways to deal with that,” he chortled.
“I’ll never do anything to help you,” she spat.
“Perhaps not for your own sake, no,” he said with a nod. “I will give you that. But what about for your father?” He paused. “Or your lover?”
Shay’s eyes blazed with hatred, and right then she wished for the strength that Justin possessed so that she could leap across the distance between them and squeeze his neck until it collapsed.
“So here’s what you’re going to do,” he said, as if unaware of the look she was giving him. “You will call your father, and tell him to come in. If he does, then I’ll let the two of you live.”
“And if not?” she grated out, her jaw clenched tightly, knuckles white as they gripped the glass in her hand.
“You aren’t stupid,” he said condescendingly. “You figure it out.” He rose to leave.
“Why do you care about whether he comes in or not?” she asked suddenly, something not quite adding up.
Mr. Gray contemplated that question for a moment before answering. “There are things that we aren’t ready for your little group to find out yet. Things your father may or may not know. It is a risk we cannot take.” He smiled happily. “I’m sure you understand.”
“He’s going to come for me,” she said, trying to sound intimidating.
“Good. My trap will be better this time,” her captor said. “Now, shall we make that phone call?”
Shay just rolled her eyes. “You can’t kill me until you use me to bring him in or expose him. You can’t kill him until I get you in touch with him and get him to reveal himself. Either way, neither of us are in danger. Why the hell would I just give in?” she said, snorting in derision.
The backhand came out of nowhere.
Shay flew across the small room. The glass shattered as it hit the wall, having been flung from her hand. Shards peppered her face, opening a dozen cuts as she bounced off the wall and landed on the chair, the flimsy piece of furniture snapping apart under her. Parts of the plastic jabbed at her, gouging her more.
Something in her shoulder throbbed with pain from where it had made contact with the wall first, and her fingers tingled in response.
“Do not mistake my preference for manners as weakness,” he said, then kicked her solidly in the ribs, driving the air from her lungs.
Shay tried to suck down huge gulps of air, but the muscles weren’t responding to her commands. Her eyes bulged in terror as she realized she couldn’t breathe, that nothing was getting to her screaming lungs. She curled up into a ball, trying desperately to recover.
Then suddenly her muscles relaxed and sweet, cool air rushed into her body as her chest heaved with the exertion of replacing everything that had been driven from it.
“When you change your mind,” he said, “just knock on the door three times.” He stepped out of the door and it began to close. “Don’t take too long,” he said sweetly, and then he was gone.
I am in a world of shit.
The thought echoed through her brain as she rocked back and forth on the floor, tears streaming down her face from the pain of his blows.