"broke my heart and i learned my lesson"

•••

I gently opened my eyes and tried to move my hands, but they were bound behind my back. Remembering the last thing that happened, I glanced down at myself.

My dress was ripped, and my bare feet were tied with a thick rope to the metal chair I was sitting on. The holster on my thigh was still there, empty, of course. Turning my head, I began to inspect my surroundings, trying to orient myself.

The room I was trapped in had a large window overlooking Las Vegas, and the sky was dark, reassuring me that I had not been unconscious for too long. A couple of empty desks scattered around the place made it look like an office, and there was a door in front of me.

One of the tables I spotted was displaying my dagger, the gun, and my shoes. Even if I hurried and dragged myself to it, I knew I would not make it; it was too far away from me.

The lights were blinding, but I tried to get accustomed to them as soon as possible. The door suddenly swung open, and Christopher sauntered in, wearing the same suit as before with a smile on his face.

God, he was such a traitor. And I knew this was mostly my fault for ignoring my instincts, but Christopher was the betrayer in my eyes. His looks had deceived me, and I had been fool enough to believe in them.

"Motherfucker," I mumbled, "What do you want from me?"

"Oh," he said, speaking to me with inferiority, "You're awake." I gritted my teeth, rolling my eyes.

I despised it when anyone did that to me.

"Why am I here?" I asked, quietly seething.

"Well," he approached me, messing up his blonde hair, "I have a surprise for you." Christopher gripped my chin with his hand, "I want to introduce you to my boss."

"I do not give a fuck about your boss," I spat, "Let me go."

"We both know I can't do that," he replied, smirking as he took his arm back, "But I think you are going to be thrilled to meet him."

He moved aside, making me notice someone standing by the door. The man stepped into the room, the white lights revealing his scarred face. I gasped and tried to push the chair back, but it was useless; it would not budge.

"Sabrina Rhodes," he stated, "It's been a while, hasn't it?" His ginger buzz cut exposed his blue eyes as he contemplated me, a grin playing at his lips. A scar crossed his entire face, and parts of it were splattered by his hundreds of freckles.

I breathed several times as I tried to calm down my racing heart. Pulling my mouth into a straight line, I tilted my head upwards to meet his gaze.

"Hello, Oliver," I said, trying to keep my voice from cracking.

"How have you been, babe?" he asked, smiling.

Oliver was wearing a formal white shirt and dark trousers, tugging me back to all the galas we attended together. How he used to haul me violently towards his body by my waist, lashing out on jealousy.

"Do not call me that," I ordered, "What do you want?"

"Ah, straight to the point," Oliver commented, "I've always loved that about you." He crossed his arms over his chest. "So, let me beat around the bush too." His smile faded as he walked towards me, "My life has been fucking hell after you locked me up in prison, Sabrina."

"I-"

"Don't," he cut me off, "I don't want your excuses."

"But I-"

"Shut the fuck up!" Christopher yelled behind him, making me jolt backwards.

The Christopher I had met at the hotel was the complete opposite to the version in the office.

"That's enough," Oliver raised his palm before turning back to me, "I've been searching for you ever since I escaped."

Slowly, he cupped my face in his hands, forcing me to look at him as he grinned. I succeeded in keeping myself together, but I knew I would break eventually.

"I loved you, Sabrina," he stated, "I truly did, but you fucked everything up as soon as you made that call." Sighing, he caressed my cheeks. "So beautiful yet so stupid." Parting my lips to retort, he clapped his hand over them. "And you still can't keep your mouth shut, can you?"

"Fuck you," I muffled through his fingers, "Fuck you, Oliver." He laughed as he glared down at me.

"Such a waste of a good assistant," he commented, "How's working for the Handless Thief, huh? Or should I call him Andrew?" Letting go of me, he stepped back. Oliver seized a nearby chair and placed it in front of me, sitting on it. "How is that bastard?"

"Fine," I replied, "What about you?" His red hair glinted under the lights.

"Oh, I'm not telling you anything about me until you answer all of my questions, Sabrina," he replied, "You are the ones behind The Wynn's heist." I only gazed at him, not a word escaping my lips, "Am I right?"

"Yes, you are." I could not take it anymore, and I did not want him to hurt me because, even if he had loved me once, he would not hesitate to hit me if I did not obey. Feeling the fear in my stomach, I merely looked at him with the best remorseful face I could manage, "I-I am sorry, Oliver."

"Are you really?" he inquired.

"Yes," I continued to lie, "I am sorry for locking you up."

"Your apology is a couple of years late, babe," he said, "I'm not accepting it now."

"Oliver, please." His hand twitched, and I knew what it was itching for, but I was not going to let someone like him undermine me.

Although, there was no man I was more afraid of than Oliver Boyd.

"Shut up," he ordered, "And answer my fucking questions." I reluctantly nodded. "How much money did you steal from the casino?"

"Billions of dollars," I responded, "Andrew never told me the exact amount."

"Perfect," Oliver stood up, turning his head to talk to Christopher, "Set the ransom at a hundred million." He agreed and quickly left the room, leaving us alone.

"That is an unrealistic amount of money," I stated, "He will never agree to it, and especially not for his assistant."

I was misleading him again; I loved to lie, apparently. Andrew would be inclined to accept because it was about me, but he knew what my opinion would be if I was with him; that he should not spend millions of dollars on me.

"You see, Sabrina," he walked over to the window, leaning on it, "I've been keeping an eye on you ever since I found you. I watched you break up with Hunter and get this job, and I saw what happened at the dinner party." He chuckled. "The way Andrew looked at you..."

Oliver stopped talking and turned his head towards me, a smile plastered on his face as he raked his free hand through his short hair.

"That's not the way you should look at your assistant."

Observing his silhouette in front of the illuminated city, I thought about old times. Times in which I adored the very sight of him, times in which I admired his diligence in his work.

"He would never agree to a ransom that high," I ignored his explanation, repeating my point.

"Jesus Christ," he smirked at me, "You don't get it, do you?"

"Clearly not." I rolled my eyes as he left the window, approaching me once more.

"Andrew is in fucking love with you, Sabrina," he placed a hand on the back of my chair, tipping me backwards. Oliver smiled, staring down at me, "I know him very well, so trust me with this." I laughed sarcastically; I was not ready to believe that.

"Trust you?" He leant closer to my face, not breaking eye contact with me, "After everything that happened?"

"I should be the one saying that, Sabrina," Oliver stated, letting the chair drop back onto its legs.

"You deserved it," I spat.

"Ha! I knew you weren't sorry."

"After you killed my mother, how could I be sorry?" I inquired, "You knew how much she meant to me, and you murdered her in cold blood."

"A request is a request," he shrugged, "Besides, the job paid a generous amount of money I wanted to spend on you, but you didn't give me a chance."

His twisted mind made my bound hands shake with rage. Oliver, my boyfriend at the time, got a client who wanted my mother dead. He did not even hesitate when doing it. I found out when he came back to our apartment covered in blood; my mum's blood, my blood.

She was the one who taught me what I know today. It was her who fed my obsession for weapons and gifted me my first gun when I was ten. My mother was my role model, and Oliver stole her life.

"Why would I?" I retorted, "You are a fucking liar."

"Alright," he walked to one side of the room, "I'm tired of the bullshit that comes out of your mouth." Taking out a roll of black duct tape, Oliver cut off a large piece and slapped it over my lips. "Look, it even matches your dress." I wanted to shout at him, but all I could manage were a few muffled noises. He sighed, sitting back down on the chair, "Much better."

Suddenly, Christopher stepped into the room again, another man following him closely behind. He had a phone in his hand, which he gave to Oliver. The man closed the door as soon as they were all inside, and everyone fell silent.

A number was dialled before the call was set to speaker mode, the ringing filling the office. It rang several times until someone picked up, and a familiar voice answered.

"What?"

"Andrew, hello," Christopher greeted him.

"What the fuck? How did you get my number? And where the fuck is Sabrina?"

"She is right here." He held the phone in front of me, urging me to speak. I tried, but all that came out were mumbling noises. Immediately, footsteps echoed on the other side of the call as Andrew ran around.

"What the fuck do you want, asshole?" he asked, "If you have a problem with me, you should never touch anyone from my crew."

"The problem involves her, Andrew," Christopher replied, "All I'm asking for is a hundred million dollars." He smiled, "And I'll return her to you safely."

"You know what?" Andrew began, "Fuck you, don't ever call me again." He hung up, exactly as I assumed he would, leaving the room in silence and everyone in shock as they stared down at the phone.

Slowly, I started to laugh through the tape at the situation. What had I been thinking? Andrew would never accept such a deal. Unless he planned to risk his life to rescue me, but I doubted that would happen.

He could be an idiot sometimes, but not that much. Assuming I was on my own, I began crafting a plan to escape. There must be a way out; there always is.

"And what are you laughing about, huh?" Oliver asked, "What's so funny?" Since I could not reply, I glared at the men surrounding me, still chuckling over the call until Christopher slapped me.

"Shut the fuck up, bitch." Before I could react, Oliver pushed him brutally to the side.

"Dammit, you idiot!" he grabbed him by the collar of his white shirt, "You know what I said about touching her; Andrew will never forgive us if he finds out."

"He won't forgive us either way," Christopher smirked, "You have her tied up and whining like a fucking dog." They both looked at each other for a brief moment until Oliver sighed, letting go of him. "You know he won't come, don't you?"

"He fucking will," Oliver replied, "I know him too damn well, and when he cares about someone, he rips the entire world apart for them."

He turned to gaze at me, a sly, disturbing grin on his face as he walked towards me and held my cheeks in his hands, wiping the single tear I had unconsciously let out after the slap. "He will come for you, babe; you don't have to worry about that."