Chapter Three – Who Sent You?
Sloane
The target grabbed my hair and jerked my head back painfully.
“I’ll ask you one more time, who sent you?!” he yelled in my face.
How does he expect me to answer him with my panties shoved down my throat?
I remained stoic and expressionless despite the immense pain I felt radiating from my scalp and neck. He released me with a huff and began pacing the room. “Why, why, why do you want to be a pain in my ass? Are they a high-ranking member of the Federation? Your prosthetic modification wasn’t detected by our scanners when you entered the bar. Only equipment of a high-level branch of the military can escape prosthetic detection.”
I remained silent, because at that point, he was rambling to himself. According to Master Nick’s code, I could never reveal any information, no matter how much my captors tortured me or the promises they made to let me go if I blessed them with a morsel of intel. In my line of work, committing suicide was not only preferrable, but an honorable way to die.
My captor waltzed to the communicator by the lounge door and pressed the speech button.
“How can I help you, sir?” a voice answered.
“Bring my black box, and make sure the injections are in there.”
Injections? What does he plan on injecting me with? Drugs? Sedatives? Neurosuppresants? A virus that will eventually make me bleed out of my eyes and ears as my brain melts?
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath to calm the fear that was raging through my body. Master Nick taught me to never fear pain, torture, and death because the pain and torture was only temporary, and death would bring me peace. In theory, he was probably correct, but I was too young to die. I’d spent most of my life training to be a deadly assassin that I missed out on my childhood, and now because of a failed mission, I might not be able to experience young adulthood either. Resentment bubbled up inside me.
My heart kicked up when the lounge door opened, and a black box exchanged hands.
“Do you need anything else, sir?” the man asked.
“No, I wish to be left alone with my guest. Thank you.”
I gulped in fear as the man slowly approached me. He placed the box onto a bar top and flipped open the lid. I couldn’t see the contents of the box from where I was sitting. I struggled against the ropes that bound me to the chair when he squirted a serum out of the injector before approaching me. He grabbed my arm.
“You’ll only feel a pinch,” he murmured as he inserted the needle in my vein. I felt a coldness as the serum rushed through my veins. Eventually, my body became heavy, and my eyelids fluttered from my drowsy state. “I gave you a muscle relaxer.”
The man pulled my panties out my mouth and a gasped softly. I nearly choked again when he shoved two meaty digits into my mouth. He swirled his fingers around, scraping them against my tongue, the walls of my mouth, and my teeth. I attempted to pull away when he grabbed my back molar, but the drugs had wreaked havoc on my system. He snatched out the molar, and with it, the tablet that was the size of a rice grain. He threw it on the ground and stomped on it, ensuring I had no chance of committing suicide.
When I could no longer support my head, he untied me from the chair and carried me to the pool table.
“My name is Anthony Peterson, former military marshal of The Federation.”
My eyes fluttered in recognition. I recalled seeing a news report about him. Anthony Peterson was a high-ranking officer who was sentenced to death for anti-federal crimes twenty years ago. No one knew how he did it—if he did it on his own accord or with help, but he managed escaping certain death. The media proclaimed he was a murderous monster without humanity or remorse who would force innocent civilians to undergo prosthetic transformation in hopes of creating some sort of army of prosthetic soldiers who would fight against The Federation with him.
That’s how he knows so much about prosthetic modification!
“I admire your tenacity, sugar. You remind me of a dear friend of mine,” he spoke, fingers trailing the perimeter of the pool table as he paced slowly like an apex predator. “We came up in military school. We were evenly matched, which made for great competition. We were always trying to one up one another, but in doing so, we were pushing each other to be better and stronger until we were at the top of our class.”
I tried to maintain consciousness as he continued telling me his backstory I didn’t ask for.
“He was an annoying little shit—always so self-righteous and followed the rules like a good little soldier like The Federation wanted us to be. He didn’t believe that rules should be broken. Everything was black or white with him. Grey didn’t exist in his world. He enjoyed being a puppet then, and I’m sure he enjoys it even more now. As you might have guessed, I was always the rebel—questioning orders and demanding answers. I hated blindly following orders without rhyme or reason. That should’ve been a warning that I wasn’t cut out for the military, but I had goals I wanted to achieve. You understand, right?”
He slapped my cheek repeatedly.
“Wake up. I don’t want you missing the good part.”
What’s the good part?
“How is my dear friend Nicholas Verano?”
Don’t react.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to fight it anymore. I know it was him who sent you after me. I can tell from your fighting style that he trained you. Don’t feel bad that you lost to me. You are a formidable opponent for your tender age.”
I squirmed when I felt his warm fingertips ghost up my leg.
“I should be mad at him for sending you to kill me.” His fingers were on my knee. “But I can’t because he sent me a tasty little treat. I bet you’re a virgin,” he said almost wistfully as his fingers dipped between the apex of my thighs. I was relieved when he only circled my aching bud teasingly instead of penetrating me. “I should send you back to your master—defiled, used, and filled to the brim with my cum, but instead…I’ll settle for this.”
I felt warmth bloom against my lips, and it took me several seconds to realize Anthony Peterson, disgraced marshal of The Federation was kissing me.