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Chapter Two – Battle Royale

Sloane

My heart beat steadily as we approached the room. The man pressed his thumb against a fingerprint scanner that led to the lounge. The scanner flashed green, and the door whooshed open.

“Where’s Cathy?” I asked.

The man shrugged. “Who knows? But you can wait for her here in the staff lounge. My eyes ticked to the far-right wall where an emergency glass box with an axe in it hung. I would have to utilize it if the mission went south. I was pleased that Cathy had followed directions and left the door slightly cracked. The last thing I wanted to do was break glass and alert someone.

“So…tell me why you’re really here,” the man said, dropping onto a black leather sofa near the ax. He draped his arms on the back of the couch.

“I told you. I’m looking for my sister Cathy.”

He rolled his eyes. “Enough with the fucking lies. Cathy doesn’t have a sister—she doesn’t have any family for that matter, or any friends. You interested in working for me, sugar? Is that it?”

I pretended to be nervous again.

“I…I need the money,” I whispered softly before lowering my head in shame and submission.

“Why?”

“My younger brother is sick, and I need to help pay for his treatments. The medication isn’t covered by insurance and it’s expensive.”

“How much?” he pressed.

“One thousand a month. My mother is a single mother and can’t afford it.”

“Your mother is a coward.”

“Excuse me?” I asked, returning my eyes to his.

“Your mother is a coward, and if she truly loved her children, she would be here turning tricks for your brother’s medication, not you. But I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth. How old are you?”

“Fifteen,” I lied.

“Are you opposed to getting fake identification?”

“I already have them.”

He held out his hand. I rifled through my bag and gave him my license. “Looks good enough to me,” he declared before handing it back. “Get naked.”

“What?” I gasped, taking a step back.

He hissed through his teeth and stood to his feet. “I’m sorry, sugar, but you failed the interview. Please allow me to escort you out.”

“I failed? How?”

“It’s your reaction and hesitation. Our clients don’t want to spend their thirty minutes or hour trying to coax you to perform. They want girls who are willing to please every one of their lustful whims. You aren’t ready. Rest in piece to your little brother.”

“No. I can do it,” I insisted, dropping my bag to the floor. I worked open the buttons of my white blouse and counted down while controlling my breathing. In a flash, I ripped the shirt off my body and threw it in the man’s face. Using my distraction, I rushed to the emergency box and grabbed the ax. I whirled around to chop him down with the weapon, but he batted the ax away. We engaged in a dance of me slashing left and right, up and down as he avoided the deadly swings.

Suddenly, he grabbed my wrist and twisted my arm behind my back. He squeezed my right hand and I felt it fracture. I cried out in pain and dropped the ax on the floor, barely missing the blade landing on my foot. I stomped on his foot and elbowed him in the face. He released me and I retrieved the ax with my uninjured hand. I turned around and smirked when I realized he’d put considerable distance between the two of us. I threw the ax at him, and it sliced through the air. I groaned in disappointment when he ducked, and the ax embedded in the wall.

Master Nick warned me that this man is relentless, but not many can keep up with my speed and agility!

He yanked the ax out of the wall and threw it at me, returning the favor. I bent back and it felt like my world moved in slow motion when the blade rotated above my face, nearly slicing my nose off.

I straightened up, but my recovery was too slow. The target tackled me to the ground. He grasped my neck with one hand, held one of my arms down to the ground, and pressed his knee into my opposite thigh, effectively pinning me down to the ground. “Who sent you?” he growled in my face. He reared back when the gun from my prosthetic swung out. I fired a shot, hitting him in the chest. I sighed in satisfaction when he fell onto his back with a low groan.

I pulled myself up to my feet and rolled my neck—relieved when it finally cracked. “You should’ve gone down like a good little dog, but no, you just had to fight back. You broke my fucking hand, asshole!”

“And I’d do it again,” he gasped, ripping open his shirt. I rolled my eyes at the Kevlar vest underneath.

“Do you always wear a bullet proof vest?”

“Only when sexy schoolgirls with prosthetics show up to kill me. Someone really wants me dead.”

I smirked and picked up the ax. “You’re right. Someone wants you dead, and I’m here to deliver. I plan on chopping your head and your hands off and dismembering you piece by piece before tossing you to the rats.”

“Hmph. Kinky.”

I’ve had enough of this!

I raised the ax above my head and swung it down. Like a roach that would never fucking die, he rolled over right as the sharp edge sank into the dingy carpet. He took out an electric baton and smacked me in the back of leg, dropping me to my knee. Expertly, he located the kill switch on my prosthetic and shut it down.

How the hell does this man know so much about military-grade prosthetics? Who is he and why does Master Nick want him dead? Abort mission!

I attempted to run away, but the delayed shock from the electric baton rendered my leg useless, forcing me to fall to the ground. I screamed when a boot came crashing down on my ankle.

I failed my mission. I can’t go back to Master Nick. It’s my time to go, but I won’t let this bastard take me alive.

I wiggled my tongue against my back molar, attempting to dislodge it so that I could access the cyanide tablet in it. Before I knew it, the brute lifted my skirt, snatched my panties down my legs, and stuffed my panties in my mouth, preventing me from accessing the poison. The target yanked me off the floor and I was tied to a chair moments later.

Mission failed.

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