passing between us once again.
Maybe, it’s the pounding in my head from what I now remember was a headbutt courtesy of… “Pike. Yo…your name is Pike.”
“Congratulations, you know the name of your target,” he says flatly. “Now, tell me who the fuck you are!”
The beach. The bullets. The… “You found me on the road,” I explain, searching his eyes for recognition. He steps closer, hovering above me, forehead creased, a frown on his lips.
The moment he realizes he knows me from before this night, he shakes his head slowly from side to side and stands upright once more. A mountain of a man looking down at a sheep in his field.
His head movement stills. “I always assumed you were dead,” he says it as if he wishes it were true.
That night. The van. My family.
The reasons behind my every action. I’m no longer a fractured version of myself. Logic and memory again take their rightful place on the throne in my mind, usurping fear.
Flexing my fingers within my restraints, I lean forward. “You assumed wrong.”His thumb hovers over the button. “No!”
“Name,” he demands, barely moving his lips. “I never did get it the first time.”
“I…I’m Michaela. Mickey.”
“Why the fuck did you come here?” he asks. “Who sent you?”
My head is pounding in pain, but I have my reasons to not tell him the truth. Five of them to be exact. “I don’t know why I’m here,” I lie.
“Bullshit!”
I’m assaulted again, screaming through the agony. This time, when it stops, there’s a ringing in my ears and a vibration thrumming throughout my entire body.
“Who do you work for?” he presses, hoisting me up from the bed. I kick and scream as he forces me down onto a hard, wooden chair in the center of the room.
He hovers over me, intimidating me with his nearness, but I won’t break, not for him. Not for anyone. There’s a humming in the air, a vibration amongst the animosity bouncing between our bodies.
I shake my head. “No one. I don’t work for anyone. I acted alone.”
He laughs, but the evil in his voice tells me he finds my answer anything but funny.
His hair falls over his face as he looks down, and I now fully understand the meaning of if looks can kill. He trails his fingers down my jaw, and I try to jerk away but he holds tight, pressing my cheeks together and forcing me to stare into his eyes like he needs me to see that his determination isn’t a game and that he will win. “You’re going to tell me who the fuck you’re with, or you’re going to regret it. It’s going to be fun to play with this pretty skin of yours. Carve it up and make it bleed. You look different from the last time I saw you. All grown up. Curvy. Fucking beautiful.” He pauses. “I doubt you’ll look as good when all of your pretty parts are in pieces.”
He draws a knife from his boot, the blade gleaming in the moonlight. He releases my jaw and sets the blunt end of the blade to my throat. “Who are you with?”
Who am I with? I repeat in my head and start to rattle off an answer so that he doesn’t hit the switch again. He wants a truth so I give him one. “I…I have three sisters and a mom and a dad. I am with Mensa in their elite youth program. I had a scholarship to Florida Gulf Coast University and am enrolled in their science program. I give lectures and teach a few lab courses.”
He takes a step back and turns his back to me, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He spins back around with his finger again looming over the button.
“No!” I scream. “I answered the question. I did,” I plead. My face burns. Tears stream down my face. Not for me, but for the answers I can’t give him. In frustration as much as in fear. “It’s the truth. I swear.”
“You know that’s not what I’m looking for. But go ahead. Play your games, and see where it fucking gets you.”
I meet his determination with my own, lifting my chin from my chest. Our eyes lock. “Do your worst. I’m not telling you shit.”
The side of his lip turns up in a devilish smile. His voice is eerily calm. “Wrong. Fucking. Answer.”
He hits the button, and this time, the music burns through my ears like a torch. The lights violently