Page 34 of Kill Shot

The Belly of the Beast

Seb

Seb had long since lost track of the days. He’d eventually figured out that the first part of the journey had been on a train. After that, they’d moved to a private airplane, then a boat. He had no concept of day or night, and the blindfold had never been removed for even a single minute.

With every passing day, he knew that the chances of being saved dwindled lower and lower. There was no way that anyone would be able to track him and his captors, not under these circumstances. Even so, he knew that his father would stop at nothing to get him back.

Half of him hoped desperately for that. The other half hoped that his father didn’t chase at all because this was definitely going to be a trap for him. If his father died because Seb had run away like this…

Even when his blindfold was dry, it was still crusted with salt, and his skin chafed every time he moved. Somehow, every time that he thought he was out of tears, they kept coming back.

His one small solace was that Lucas hadn’t returned after their initial conversation. He was given water and a disgusting nutrient shake by a different man, one who smelled differently from Lucas and didn’t respond to a single one of Seb’s questions.

But his journey did eventually come to an end. He had no idea how many miles he had traveled or how many days it had taken. He didn’t know if Nico was alive or dead, if his father was hot on his trail, or even if Lucas was still in the group that was holding him captive.

His guard came in, yet another twisted perversion of his past life. Before, men had been protecting him. Now, they held him prisoner.

Without warning, he felt gloved fingers on his arm, working quickly. He didn’t even have time to yelp before he realized that he was being freed from his bindings.

“The blindfold stays on,” the guard said with a slight Mexican accent.

Seb was then forcibly jerked to his feet and guided to his door. He stumbled after having not stood under his own power for so long, but his guard had absolutely no patience, and he was dragged until he managed to catch himself.

He knew that he was outside the moment a blast of hot air hit him straight on, and there was so much grit in the wind that he knew his eyes would be worse off without the blindfold.

But his guard didn’t slow down at all, forcing Seb out into what felt like a raging sandstorm.

“He goes this way, straight to Bolero,” another voice called. It had been so long that it took Seb a moment to realize that it was Lucas, but somewhat muffled, as if he was wearing a mask. Which he likely was, given the environment.

What sort of hellish desert had he been taken to?

But just as soon as he began to wonder, the assault suddenly stopped, and he was surrounded by a sense of cold foreboding.

He instinctively knew that he’d stepped into a building full of steel and oil.

It smelled more like an auto shop than a home, and he could hear the steady beat of boots in the distance.

And then there were more footsteps, much closer. He was being surrounded by men, and they were all escorting him deeper into what he could only assume was some manner of bunker.

This was it. This was where he was going to die. He prayed that his father didn’t chase him this far, because if he did, then there was no way that he was getting out of here alive.

Because these men sounded just like his father’s men. Not in the warmth of their voices or in the way that they fondly watched over him, but in their dispassionate professionalism and in just how efficiently they did everything.

And Bolero was in charge of these men. They would do anything he commanded, and the breadth of possibilities suddenly felt much more nefarious than it had in the past. These men might torture Seb in ways that he’d never imagined possible.

Could he withstand this? Had anything in his life prepared him for the sort of pain and misery that he had waiting for him here?

No, but he could only hope that it would be enough.

Eventually, his escort stopped him, and he heard a quick knock. A door opened in reply, and he was forced into a room that smelled of stale cigar smoke and oil.

“This is the boy?” a gravelly voice asked from across the room.

His guards didn’t reply but dragged Seb forward, hauling him into a chair and slapping metal locks onto his wrists and ankles.

This was no haphazard tying up, but a cold and sophisticated imprisonment.

He definitely wasn’t the first person who had been locked up on this chair, and he couldn’t help but wonder how many of his predecessors had survived.

“So he is,” the same voice mused to himself. “Hair’s a little longer than in the pictures, but I guess those were taken a few weeks ago, weren’t they? Leave us.”

There was a crisp snapping that Seb imagined was saluting in starch uniforms, then bootsteps signaled their exit from the room.

He was alone, as far as he could tell, with the man, but as long as he was blindfolded, he couldn’t even know that for sure.

“Now let’s see what we’re dealing with,” the voice grunted. There was a creaking as he rose from his seat, then heavy footfalls as he approached. From the direction of the sound, it felt like he was coming around from behind a desk.

Seb couldn’t help but imagine just how terribly similar and different this was from being summoned to his father’s office.

He felt as weak, powerless, and terrified as he had felt when he was a boy being disciplined by his father, but now he was older and wiser.

Now, he knew the danger was real and mortal.

“Hmph, I wouldn’t have thought that Nicolas would get distracted by a pretty little morsel like you. Always thought his tastes ran in the other direction.”

A thick finger brushed across his cheek, and before Seb could even shudder, the blindfold was jerked away.

He winced, blinded by what was clearly dim light in a smoky room. His eyes stung, full of sweat and grit that had been kept just out of reach by the blindfold, now made even worse by the smoke that hung heavy in the air.

But then his eyes adjusted, and he dearly wished they hadn’t. Looming over him was a tall, scarred man with his lips snarled in disgust and eyes that burned with fanatical hate. There was a zealotry there that chilled Seb to the bone even without knowing just what it was that drove such a man.

“Do you know why I’ve brought you here?” the man asked. When his lips parted, Seb saw teeth stained yellow and a tongue that seemed longer than it should have been.

Seb shook his head, more from trembling than any conscious attempt to say no.

“Oh good, that will make this so much more enjoyable,” the man sneered, leaning down until his face hovered inches from Seb’s.

“You see, Nico was supposed to put a bullet in your head. But the idiot got attached. Pinche pendejo . Just what kind of magic did you work to make El Diablo go soft on you like a fool?”

Seb tried to pull back, but the man let out a low, ugly laugh. His eyes dragged down Seb’s body, unapologetic in their scrutiny.

“Now, we’re going to have such fun while we wait for your father to come running. After all, he’s the real prize here.”

Bolero continued to laugh at Seb’s confused expression.

“You must be wondering why your father, right? Well, I never liked the man. Lending to the mafia is a tightly controlled business, and your father is too damn popular in that space. He blocked me from ever getting a seat at the table after what happened with Mattias.”

His lips curled cruelly. “So yeah, I want him gone. And guess what? You’re going to deliver him to me. I’ve been trying to take the man down for years, and with what he did to Nico, I just saw the perfect opportunity.”

Seb was on the verge of hyperventilating. All his worst fears were coming true, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. He couldn’t make sense of the man’s words. What had his father done to Nico?

“But don’t worry, I won’t leave too many marks,” the vile man continued. “No, I’ll leave your face still nice and spotless so that I can convince your dear old dad that you’re safe and sound. Then, once I’ve got him in my clutches, he’ll get to watch as the real fun begins.”