Vengeance (Updating Weekly)

Part 2

My head swirls, my vision blurred. My whole body aches, but my head pounds. I try to make sense of the space around me. It's dark and cold, and small — the size of a wardrobe. A dirty, old basement— dusty floors, brick walls, and rotten, wooden beams. That's where they're keeping me. No lights. No windows. No vents. No exits but a rusty metal door. They've laid me down on a mattress in the corner of the room, placed directly on the muddy ground. No blanket or pillow to suffocate someone with. The bucket in the other corner is plastic. It won't do me any good beside blocking someone's sight. There's nothing here I could use as a weapon. Not a single thing.

I quickly examine my body once my vision is fully restored. Besides a bruise on my knee and a couple of swipes of dirt, everything is intact. I'm still in my dress from work. It's a good thing it's black, or else it'd be just as dirty as the rest of me.

I take a few deep breaths, letting my new reality sink in. Everything we've been fighting to prevent for the past 5 years has come to fruition. Vassilis caught me, and he's going to kill me. That's all he wants. I know too much, and I've used it against him. He wants revenge. He wants me out of his way.

I was only 18 years old when I first met Vassilis. Back then, all he was to me was the wealthy businessman dating my mum. It didn't take long for me to learn he was much more than that. He didn't even try to hide it. He wasn't a businessman. He was a mobster. He was the head of the largest crime family in Europe. He was a violent, aggressive man, who waged war on anyone who stood in the way of his power. He divided his time between his home in Greece, and my mother's bed in New York City. What she saw in him besides money, I will never know. He killed her before I could find out.

That was his biggest mistake. He was never caught for it, but 21-year-old me was not going to let that go. The FBI was more than pleased with what I had to say. I had seen and heard enough. We managed to charge him with over 20 crimes, ranging from espionage and embezzlement to money laundering and drug trafficking. I was a key witness in each and every one of his trials, and yet I never faced him in court. It was too dangerous. Vassilis has millions of people working for him worldwide. I was put in Witness Protection as soon as the charges were pressed. He was extradited to Greece last year, just after the trials ended.

It was naïve of me to even think I'd be able to stay in St Louis until I graduated. I didn't have time to go to grad school during the trials, but I should've known better than to think things would settle down now that they're over. The trials may be, but the fight will never end. Vassilis will never let me go. He killed my mother, and now he's going to kill me.

I climb up onto my feet, ignoring the weakness in my knees. The world is still spinning around me, but I'm not going to sit here and do nothing. I slam my fist against the door.

"Hey!" I call out. "Come and fucking face me! I'm not fucking scared of you!"

I continue banging away, interrupting the silence as much as I can. I can't give them any peace. I need to cause a racket and be a nuisance. They can't kill me. Vassilis will want to do that himself, and unless he's managed to escape since I last spoke with Simpson, I've got nothing to lose. That's a risk I'm willing to take. I carry on, desperately trying to get their attention. I need to know how many people are here so I can make a plan to take them out.

I don't stop until I hear footsteps approach. The latch moves and the door swings open.

"Will you shut the fuck up already?" The man's words are interrupted by my fist flying into his face. He cries out in pain and stumbles backwards. With a swift kick in the groin, he leans forward, cupping his crotch. I land another punch to his face, this time causing his head to slam into the wall. And just like that, he's unconscious, sliding to the floor with a bleeding gash on his scalp.

I hurry out of the room, quickly scanning the hallway for an exit plan. One side of the hall is a dead-end, and the other is blocked by a man holding a gun, aiming right at me. He's bald, dressed in all black with a vicious glare on his face.

"Don't fucking move," he sneers. I raise my arms up instinctively, surrendering to the weapon in his hands. I immediately regret not checking if the other guy was carrying. A gun could be the key to getting out of here. The man motions back to the room. "Get in there."

"I don't–."

"Get in!" he demands. I keep my mouth shut. I don't have another choice but to follow his orders, slowly retreating back into the room with my hands still in the air. The man doesn't lower his weapon until he's joined by another man, an older guy. He drags the unconscious man away, leaving just me and the bald man. His gun may be lowered, but his glare could be enough to kill.

"I know you're not going to kill me," I tell him. "Vassilis will kill you if you do."

"You're right," he says. "I'm not going to kill you, but that doesn't mean I won't hurt you. Vassilis wants you alive, even if it means barely alive."

His words don't scare me. Instead, they fill me with hope. He's speaking English. He's American. We haven't left the country yet.

"They'll come looking for me."

"Who? Your agent?" he scoffs. "You think we haven't thought about that? She's fucking dead. Just like you will be if you keep causing shit."

He's lying. He may work for Vassilis, but he knows he's disposable. Killing a federal agent would cause a manhunt. If he were to get caught, he'd be in 10x more trouble than he would be for kidnapping me.

There's still a chance for me. I can still get out of here. My best weapon here is the walls, and with them, I'll be able to get a gun. I'm getting out of here, even if it means killing someone.

It's me or them.