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When I came to, I felt wrong. My body felt heavy and achey, like waking up the morning after falling asleep high at 4am. Thirsty, exhausted, and all-round regretful.

I shifted my tongue in my mouth and found that it was sticky, a bit cottony. I needed a glass of water, preferably cold with little beads of condensation rolling down the sides. Oh god, just the thought of that had my mouth feeling quenched.

Not just that, I felt queasy too.

My eyes fluttered open and white light flashed at me instantly, throbbing shot through my skull. I shut them and then tried again. This time, I opened them slower and more tentatively, trying to let them adjust to the brightness around me. Everything was a bit blurry, and though the sudden pain didn't occur, they had a little trouble focusing for a few seconds longer than normal.

Wait. My head. Something happened to my head. Something happened. My head should be hurting more than it was. I knew that. I could feel a dull ache, but nothing close to what it should have felt like after getting a knock on the head. Where was I?

It seemed like all the lights in the room were on. I turned my head and there was a dark box on the wall. No- it was a window, I was staring at a window and it was dark outside. How long had I been out?

My head was pounding now. It felt like I'd been run over by a semi, which just for good measure reversed over me again. Whatever relief I'd felt from being knocked out had worn off.

I tried to shift my position and almost yelped as I wrenched my wrist. My right wrist was handcuffed to an old, metal radiator. With my vision watery and panic creeping into my hazy state, I reached my free hand to the knot at the back of my skull, grateful that there was a large bump. It was never good if there wasn't a bump, that could mean the swelling was going inwards, which could cause a lot more damage beyond a nasty migraine.

I winced as I pressed it with my fingers gently. Isn't it weird how we always press a fresh bruise that we know will hurt?

Yup.

It fucking hurt.

Sucking in a sharp breath through my teeth I began to survey the room around me. It was a small live-in kitchen with old appliances, and muddy brown linoleum floor tiles. A musty smell washed over me like there was water damage in the floors and ceilings and sure enough when I looked up there were dark yellow stains. Peeling floral wall paper covered the walls as best as it's old glue could manage and had also fallen victim to the water. The whole place felt dated and dirty, the exact kind of place you would bring a kidnapped victim.

A worn out couch sat against the wall a couple feet away in a clashing print to what was on the walls. There were torn seams that spurted stuffing like cigarette smoke and more noxious stains I didn't want explanations for unless it was spilt spaghetti sauce and lemonade.

"You're awake. Good. I was beginning to think I'd given you too much."

I jumped and shot my eyes towards the smooth voice. It was a man, stood in the doorway of the room. I had been expecting to come face to face with a black mask, I almost gasped at the bare face in front of me. Smooth, skin like a desert golden sand greeted me. His lips were like that of a ballerina, and his voice was the music to their dance. High cheek bones were dusted in freckles. There was a prominent one, more like a beauty mark nestled under a deep blue eye. He was handsome, beautiful even, and somehow that made him more dangerous to me. The same way his sweet voice had been so disturbing the first time I heard it. It still was.

There was only one flaw. I almost didn't notice it amongst his finer features, but once I did I couldn't help but recoil. It was a scar, a nasty one that literally traced the edged of his jawline on the right side of his face. It wasn't jagged, it was precise, but even from a distance I could tell it was raised. That meant it had been a deep wound.

A part of me wondered how he got it. A larger part of me was glad he had it. It ruined his perfection, it was the one thing that would warn people away from him.

His black clothes, which had seemed so at home in the shadows off the ice cream parlor now stood out starkly against the regularly lit house.

"Too much?" I rasped as I drew my gaze back up to his eyes.

While I'd been observing him he'd come to stand at the kitchen counter across the room from me. He made a show of taking out a gun. He dropped out the handle and checked the contents. Probably counting how many bullets he had or something. Gently, he placed the clip and the gun on the counter in front of him.

If he was trying to scare me if worked like a damn lucky charm. His next word spread like ice through my veins.

"Ketamine."

At the word my stomach rolled, the nausea I had been feeling since I woke up hit me like a tidal wave and I turned to the side just in time to avoid puking all over myself. I heaved a few more times until I was just choking up burning bile.

Exhausted I sat back against the cold radiator.

Ketamine. He'd drugged me. That was why I'd been out for so long. That was why I felt high and that was why the pain from my head had been numbed, because ketamine was also a pain relief as well as an anaesthetic. It was also extremely dangerous if used without proper dosage. He could have killed me with that shit.

Oh my god.

A shiver ran down my spine. These guys knew what they were doing if they carried ketamine around with them. They'd had masks, a van, drugs, and a dingy den to bring me back to. I was handcuffed to a freaking radiator. I needed to think of a way to get out of here. Or at least keep the hopelessness that was trying to suffocate me at bay.

But I felt so weak. My stomach was empty and I was sure I was dehydrated, I probably had a minor concussion too.

"That's attractive." his voice taunted.

I had no witty reply or snarky comeback and I disappointed myself because of it. Still, I also didn't want to say anything that would make him lose his temper. I needed to buy time not get myself killed faster than they planned. No, snarky words wouldn't help in this situation, and crying like a baby wouldn't do me any favors either. I had to find a middle ground.

I had to distract myself. I had to distract him.  

With a deep breath I managed to raise my eyes to him, but he wasn't looking at me anymore. His back was to me as he peered into the ancient looking fridge. I couldn't see it's contents at all since it was blocked by the counter and his body. My heartbeat spiked as my attention flashed to the gun that was still on the counter. It was so close and yet so far. It would be impossible to reach it from my locked position. Still, I could still imagine the scenario in my head.  

Would I be able to do it? Could I shoot him if I had to? It terrified me when the answer came so fast.

A light chuckle snapped me out of my haze, "Don't even think about it, Sugar."

He began to stalk towards me and I unconsciously pressed myself into the wall. He came to a stop right in front of me and crouched down to eye level. I was so busy staring into a predator's gaze, that I jumped as something cold was pressed into my free hand.

I hadn't even realised what he had gotten from the fridge. It was a bottle of water. It was so cold, the middle had turned to ice and just like I had fantasised about earlier, the condensation on the outside of the bottle made it slick and mouthwatering.

Slowly my fingers curled around it and I took it from him. Still, the fact he had just admitted to drugging me earlier prevented me from guzzling it down right away. His eyes twinkled with that amusement I'd seen a few times now. It was like he knew what I was thinking.

"Don't worry it's not poisoned."

I didn't say anything and didn't make a move to drink either. He signed and wrenched the bottle from my grasp again and I gasped. He never looked away from me as he cracked the cap and took a long swig before popping his lips off and handing it to me again.

I was sure I looked like a startled deer. He licked his now damp bottom lip and grinned, "There, now we'll both be dead if someone boobytrapped our supply of drinking water."

I took the water from him and slowly raised it to my mouth. I couldn't look at him as I placed my lips to where his had been. I couldn't stare him down as he had done to me. Once I took the first sip it was like a dam broke. I couldn't stop as I chugged the delicious liquid down my parched throat.

Water had never tasted so good.

"How long was I out for?" I asked once I had chugged over two thirds of the bottle leaving the ice to rattle inside. My voice was still shaken and groggy.

I could feel his navy eyes on me as I took another, smaller sip of the water.

"About 2 hours."

I coughed a little. Holy shit. There was no way that a knock on the head could have kept me out that long. He must've drugged me right after. Knocking someone out usually only lasted a minute or two at most.

I looked to him in shock.

"Careful," he said, "don't cause yourself to puke again."

"I didn't cause myself to puke, your drugs caused me to puke. That and the stench of this place."

He sighed and when the air he exhaled hit my face I realized he was still crouching in front of me. He looked around the room like he too was seeing it for the first time, "You're right this place could use a Glaze air freshener, or at least a scented candle."

With a fleeting smirk he stood up and strolled back to the counter. His movements were so fluid and elegant. He was so light. If his brother had been darkness incarnated then he was the sun. But not in a good way. In a way that I knew he could burn.

"What's your name?" I whispered so softly I wasn't even sure if he heard me once the words came out, "My name is Ainsley. Ainsley Oakley."

Introducing yourself to your kidnapper was meant to be a good thing, it personalised you. Made you into a real person and not just an object. Then again, I was beginning to realize that these men were not ordinary kidnappers. They were murders, who kidnapped on the side. I swallowed hard at the silence that followed. When I figured he wasn't going to answer, he finally spoke up.

"You can call me Bomber."

"Really?"

Then he grinned at my shocked and disturbed expression.

I chewed on my lip for a moment before pushing, "I'd rather your real name, your mother must not have named you Bomber."

I felt like I'd been told at some point that it was a good idea to keep a psycho talking about mundane things too. That way they weren't thinking about killing you. In my case, distraction was nine tenths of the law. Talking to him was helping myself stay calm as well.

His mouth twitched slightly and his eyes blinked roughly as though in pain. He hissed and then spoke, "My mother was a wretched bitch who crawled out of the nastiest pit of this earth. I don't give a fuck about what she called me. And if I'm honest, I don't give a fuck what you call me."

There it was. The heat. The burn I knew was simmering underneath all that warm sugary amusement that would no doubt draw the average person in.

I tried not to huff in disgust. Who talked about their mom like that? I'd have gave anything to see my mother right then. I imagined her warm smile and cushy embrace, her soft whispers as she told me everything was going to be okay. She was probably worried sick about me, wondering where I was. My father too. At least they had each other. I pushed the thoughts of them away for now as the ache in my chest began to grow unbearable.

"Alright fine, your birth certificate then. What does it say?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Well I just don't think I can call you Bomber and take it seriously." I grumbled and rolled my eyes to look out the window.

A gasp tore from my throat as suddenly Bomber was in front of me again. His hands pressed against either side of my head on the wall. Of course in the moment it felt like I might be about to die. The amount of times my life had flashed before my eyes within the last twenty-four hours was almost greater than the protagonist of a horror movie.

"Listen to me Sweetness, and listen good. I don't want you to call me anything. Keep that silver tongue of yours inside that pretty little mouth and you'll be more likely to walk out of here alive. And that's not a threat, it's a warning from the good cop."

Alive?

My heart pounded in my chest like the beat of an ancient drum. All this time I'd figured that they would be sure to kill me. I mean. I'd witnessed a murder. My vision blurred before me, distorting his face like I was looking through rippled glass.

I'd had blood spatter on me like red on a canvas. The scene was burned into the back of my eyelids and every time I blinked I saw it, raw and scorched. This boy, man, in front of me was a killer and yet... yet was it possible I could get out of this alive? Fat, warm drops fell from my eyes.

"You mean- you'd let me go?" I asked and I couldn't stop the violent hope from scratching at my voice.

I wanted to look strong, not to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry, but it was impossible. Unstoppable.

The man, Bomber, laughed. A wholehearted laugh that I never thought someone so cruel could be capable of. It made me paused, it made me shiver. I hated it. But at the same time I... I cried harder at the thoughts that clouded my head. I'd never been more afraid in my life. The adrenaline from the parlor was gone and the reality was starting to sink in. I was handcuffed to a radiator with no idea where I was or any hope of escaping on my own.

Never in my entire life had I thought I'd be at the complete and utter mercy of evil.

"Oh sugar," he stopped his laughing but a smile still remained on his face and despite his scar I hated how beautiful it remained, "that's not up to me. It's up to you."

"What do you mean?" I croaked.

Bomber's piercing eyes scanned my face slowly as his smile began to fall. I swallowed hard and I heard the blood in my ears again. I'd asked too much. I needed to keep off the topic of me and on random topics that would keep his guard down. Despite the terror that coerced through my veins I couldn't succumb to panic. I had to keep a level head on my shoulders, I'd do my damn hardest to go down with a fight.

"Let's wait till my brother gets back."

"Your brother?"

"That is what I said."

"Well what does he matter? Aren't you in charge?"

"Ah," he said and took a step back, a little pleased grin on his face, "I knew you were listening back there. Trying to put pieces together with that pretty little head of yours." he said with a nod to himself.

I wasn't sure if he expected me to confirm or deny what he said. Either way I didn't answer him. I pressed my lips together because his tone had a little condescendence to it. The kind a grownup has when praising a child for trying their best, even though they failed. They'd called him "boss". I knew they had. I remembered that, through the fogginess of my brain. So what was I missing?

"Let me give you some advice, sweetness. Don't try to make sense of things. You'll end up with a twisted picture that will get you no where but into trouble. Less you know, the better."

"That's bullshit." I mumbled, "What do you want from me? My parents will be worried about me since I didn't come home from work." I warned him, though really the thought gave more comfort to myself. I tried to sound brave, I didn't feel brave, but I wanted him to think I was. These kinds of criminals fed off of fear. They got off on it and sometimes, if you kept that from them then they got knocked off their game a little bit.

It could buy me some time.

He'd gotten close to me twice now. Surely he had the key to my cuffs on him. Maybe I could-

I jumped at the sound of a door closing and I swallowed hard. Someone had just arrived. Bomber's brother, perhaps? Vinny? If it was them then my time was up. Theorising now was useless. I hadn't been able to escape, there was no escaping from handcuffs since I didn't wear bobby pins in my hair like the movies. Even if I did, I'd never picked a lock before so it was a hopeless train of thought.

Bomber spoke, "The bad cop just arrived."

I tried not too, I really did. But I began quaking in my metaphorical boots.

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A/N- Hey guys! Sorry for the wait, but I've been busy these last two weeks, but I was waiting till I finished finals to finish this chapter.

I just want to say thank you to everyone who has read, voted, commented and offered feedback so far. It's been so helpful and I'm super appreciative!

So we've officially met one of the brothers, Bomber. What do we think of him?

What about Ainsley? How would you react in her situation?