Frank—I did not want to think of him as Rodwell—wore a simple black suit with a white shirt and vermilion tie, matching his eyes beautifully. His hair was slicked back over his head, just like it had been in the picture.

But in the picture the highlight had been his broad smile. There was a smile on his face now too, but it was cold and calculating as he regarded the shock on mine. He wasn't a very tall man, I noticed. Maybe six feet or less. There was a thick cane with a decorative eagle head in his hand, which he thumped on the ground with each step—not because he needed the support, I presumed, but because it cut an imposing figure.

When he came close enough, he stopped and looked at me with interest, like a scientist might a new specimen uncovered in his back garden. He inclined his head to the side, not saying anything.

I had forgotten all about trying to free myself. My wrists had no doubt been cut to ribbons already and, while I had been talking to McKenzie, the pain had been a constant dull companion. Now, I couldn't feel anything. I couldn't think anything or say anything. And I couldn't hear anything either through the dull ringing in my ears.

I had felt fear before. Completely bone numbing fear. This wasn't anywhere close to it, true, but I think this one deserved its own category. At least before I had known that I could scream. Now, I felt like my voice box had itself run away screaming.

Frank continued to gaze at me for a moment longer, then turned to the crew cut man. The man's face was hard and unimpressive as he stared straight ahead. His master leaned closer and whispered something in his ear, and then presented his own. The man waited a beat in thought, then whispered back from the corner of his mouth.

Frank turned toward me and smiled beautifully, showing off pearly white teeth. He had a slight diastema.

Pressing his arms on my thighs, he leaned on me as a child might to tell the ghastly secret of who ate the last pie. His face was so closed my eyes crossed over . I was quaking on the inside.

Bringing his lips to my ear, he muttered, "I hope McKenzie was nice to you." Goodness, gracious, was his voice soft... It was the kind of voice that lulls one to sleep. I had a feeling he employed it for the same purpose. To lull people to sleep. Forever.

And it was all for me.

If I had been at my best, I would have known what he was doing. It was so obvious, really. But I was terrified. His eyes were making my stomach roil, so much did they resemble the fires of hell. Yet they were the coldest things I had seen in all my life.

I was terrified. I couldn't look at him without wanting to scream, so I had to look away. And, as my instincts kicked in, I was naturally inclined toward looking at that place I had last seen a familiar person. McKenzie.

My eyes must have flickered for a split second, but that was all he needed. His smile grew tenfold, like a kid with a golden ticket. He heaved himself off of me lightly, stepping back. His eyes swam over those assembled with mild interest. "Where is McKenzie?" he asked, both his hands lying on the eagle head.

There was no answer.

And then, slowly, one of the shadows on the left, where I had glanced, extricated itself out of its companions and stepped forward. "H-here, sir," McKenzie raised his hand.

Frank turned to look at him. McKenzie shrank into himself. "So, McKenzie, did you like your first assignment?"

The boy unravelled at the tone his boss employed. "Y-yes, sir," he said with a little more confidence. He obviously had no idea what it was his Master had learned from his man and me, so very easily.

Frank's smile was broad and encouraging. "And did you think you could be a valuable member of our community with your work?"

"Yes, sir." McKenzie wasn't stammering anymore. Funny how just a sweet word from your employer made you feel so light. I knew just how he felt.

"And tell me, McKenzie, did you break any rules?"

The large man's smile dropped. A dead giveaway if there ever was one. Fear ran rampant in my body and crawled over my skin. What had I done? "R-rules, sir?"

Now Frank's smile was broader than ever. He had everything so neatly lined up, it was comical. "Yes, McKenzie, rules. Like, not to talk to the prisoner, not to tell him, or her," he added graciously, nodding at me, "anything, not to engage them in conversation, make sure they not harm themselves...You know, rules?"

"I—she isn't hurt, sir," McKenzie said, desperate. He could probably feel the danger in the air, just like I could.

"I asked you if you followed the rules. The answer to that comes in simple yes or no, my friend." Frank inclined his head.

"Y-yes, s-ir."

Frank sighed. "I hope you aren't lying to me. Filthy habit, this lying. So immoral and degrading, don't you think? Absolutely not what a respectable man should do."

McKenzie had foam on the corners of his mouth. He knew now what was happening, like the rest of us did.

"So, my friend, are you lying to me?"

McKenzie didn't answer. How could he? What could he have said? He was cornered perfectly between a cliff and a wall. If he said yes, then he would accept he had been lying. And if he said no, then he absolutely was lying, which Frank knew. The question of breaking the rules wasn't even relevant anymore.

By now all of us were staring at the blubbering man. His knees were shaking profusely, knocking into each other so hard one could almost hear a sound. His face had gone deadly pale. The foam in the corners of his lips was trailing down in one thin line. "S-si-si..." was all he was capable of saying. Enough feeling came back to me that I felt like crying.

"Oh, McKenzie," Frank said, shaking his head, "it was such a simple thing to do. The difficult part hadn't even come yet. I am afraid you cannot be a part of us anymore."

McKenzie fell to his knees. He was whimpering, holding his hands up in helpless supplication, weeping and moaning, drool running down his chin. There were pieces of bread in his saliva. Go, I yelled at him in my head, He's letting you go, you idiot! Get lost! Run! But he didn't run. He just sat there.

Until his head blew off, that is.

Bang!

The shot rang out so suddenly I didn't have time to turn my face around, to not look. Suddenly, where only seconds ago I had been looking at McKenzie's bowed head, there was nothing.

And then I looked down.

The man had been shot straight in the middle of the forehead. The back of his head had blasted clean off, till it was so easy to imagine there had never been a head at all, only the mask of a face. Blood oozed out of the cavity, along with chucks of other material that surely wasn't blood. There was a look of shock in his eyes, which were open wide, just like his mouth. Blood ran in thin streams into said eyes. His body didn't even twitch.

"Please try to get me actual human beings to work with, Zach. That was such a precious bullet wasted. I had other plans for it."

I had only just started to scream when a stinging slap jerked my face to the side hard enough to make my neck twist. I could feel my mouth swelling up.

"Don't you dare start, girl," Frank said. I looked through the strands of my hair to see him shoving the eagle head back into his cane. The head was attached to a long, silver barrel.

After he was done, he turned toward me again, the smile back on his lips. He handed his cane to one of the men and faced me. Grabbing my chin in his hand, he slowly swept hair away from my face. "Oh, honey, look what you made me do," he said, his knuckles scraping against my swollen cheek. "Don't make me do it again, will you? You have such a pretty face."

I spat on his.

In the blink of an eye his hand had fisted itself into my hair and he jerked my face upward. I felt hair rip. "You bloody bitch." He grinned. My spit ran down his chin. He wiped at it with his sleeve. "I like your tough act." Then he slapped me once again, letting go of my hair at the same time, making my head bounce against the chair. I gasped in pain.

Frank leaned back and adjusted his jacket and tie, wiping at his mouth yet again. "Sweetheart, don't expend your energy by fighting," he advised, accepting the white handkerchief Zach handed him. "There is something you must do tonight. Oh, and by the way, thank you so much for coming out today. There was no way I could have gotten you if you had stayed there holed up all the time. I am very grateful, you should know."

"How?" I croaked. My tongue felt like it was moving in a mouthful of cotton.

"What, darling? You have to speak up," he admonished gently.

"How?" I asked again. "How did you know I would come out today?"

He started chuckling merrily, looking around at his three remaining men to make sure they found it funny too. None of them risked laughing. "Oh, but sweetie, that's because I am brilliant! Absolutely brilliant."

I waited for him to explain. Behind my back, I was feverishly trying to wring my hands out. It was never going to work, I knew, but the pain in my face almost made me not notice the one building up in my wrists and I wanted to use the incentive.

"You see, sw—But I can't tell you now," he exclaimed suddenly, shocked, his hand on his chest. "We aren't all together yet. No, no, we have one more guest left. Oh, how I forget." He rubbed his temples apologetically. "Zach, the phone."

Zach ripped open the pocket of his pants and pulled out a big phone, the kind people use when they don't want their calls to be traced. I had no idea what they were called.

"Would you like to do the honour, darling?" he asked politely, holding the phone out. "Would you like to call our guest?"

I stayed silent, staring at him and not looking down.

There must have been something in my eyes for his demeanour changed suddenly. His smile dropped slightly, not gone by any means, but its intensity reduced. Slowly, he came toward me and placed the cool phone on my cheek. "Sweetie, do you know who our last guest is?" he asked. My breath hitched, even though I tried my best for it not to. He didn't miss it. His eyes searched mine, a knowing smile on his lips. "You do know," he whispered. "You do know who I am talking about." I still didn't respond, just continued to glare, eyes as unblinking as the lifeless body only a few feet away. "Call him, sweetie," he coaxed again. "Sweetheart, I will open your hands and you call him. He would like that, wouldn't he? He would come running, wouldn’t he?"

Gaining no response, he let go of me and went back to the centre of the room. The mocking and maniacal gleam was back in his eyes. "Alright, then," he shrugged. "If that's what you want. Don't call. But I will." He smiled. "I will."

And then he started to press the buttons. I didn't move, didn't know what to do. Could I stop him from making that call? Obviously not. But did I have to worry? He wouldn’t come, would he? No, he wouldn’t. He was a smart man. A smart man who knew his priorities very well. A smart man who never ran into a situation without a plan.

I breathed a sigh of relief. He won't come.

Frank put the phone to his ear, smiling at me still. "Hello," he said, after some time. "Good evening."

There was a very long pause. Then, "Don't be like that, brother. Surely you know who it is."

Whatever it was he said, Frank pulled the phone away from his ear and made a 'Phew!' face at me. Then he put it back. "What makes you think I have her?" he asked, all innocence.

He listened some more. A wide grin was breaking out on his face again.

"But what if I don't have her?" he asked. My heart clenched. No, this wasn't possible. This discussion is going on far too long.

Whatever the reply on the other end was, it made Frank's face a little more serious. "But then the two of us know what to do, don't we?"

He listened. Smiled. And then he looked at me. "Okay," he said simply.

He came forward and held the phone to my ear. "Here," he offered. "Say hi."

The moment the phone touched my ear, the tears I had been holding back all this time started flowing. "Miss Mahal? Mis—Zara? Zara? Are you alright?" Something crashed in the background. "Tell me, are you alright? Did he hurt you? Don't be scared, I am coming. I am coming right now. But, please, Zara, say something! Let me know you're okay! Zara, please!"

I stayed silent.

Frank pulled the phone away. "She won't say anything," he informed, pouting at me. "But don't worry, I will make her." He pulled the phone away and slapped me again, hard. I bit my lip to keep from screaming. Tears blurred my vision.

When I didn't make a sound, he stepped back to gaze at me thoughtfully. "Yes, yes, I will," he said distractedly into the phone. "But first I have to make her scream. Just so you know I'm not lying. I don't want you to think that of me. But where to start...Hmm..." He stroked his chin. "Where to start... Here, Zach, hold this," he said abruptly, handing the phone to his man, "and make sure he stays on the line. Tell him he won't have even the slightest chance of finding this place if he doesn't stay on the line." Zach conveyed the message obediently.

Frank came forward and slowly circled me, lightly touching my shoulders and then my hair. "Why won't you make a sound?" he asked, sounding confused. "It would be so much easier if you just screamed a little. He would come running. And then there won't be any pain for you. You do know that I only want him, right?" He leaned down to my ear. "I only just want him. You are an incentive I have provided so that he doesn't resist much. You know that, don't you?"

I kept silent.

"Sweetheart, you don't know the pain I can make you feel. You don't know the things I can do to you. When I finish, you will be begging me for death. But I won't grant it. Because mercy is such a waste of time. Why be merciful when so much fun could be had?" he asked. "Now, sweetie, just a little word," he coaxed. "Just a little sound, just a little scream. That's all. And he will be here. He will be here to save you."

I bit my lip harder.

And suddenly, before I could even realise what it was he planned, Frank grabbed my cut wrists and squeezed.

I screamed. The pain had been so sudden, so unexpected and so vicious that I couldn't stop myself.

"Bring the phone here, Zach," Frank advised, squeezing down on my wrist harder. "I think our lady here's ready to talk."

I felt the cold phone press against my cheek. "Now talk," Frank said softly.

And I couldn't help it. I just couldn't. The pain was too much.

It broke me.

"Mr. Rodwell...? Help me..."

This time, I welcomed the darkness. It was a relief.