4

I peer down and pause. He’s half naked. He must’ve discarded the tatters of his shirt and is now only wearing black slacks. He’s tall with a couple inches on me and definitely broader. The snake looks menacing coupled with his mask, and I want to unmask him, too. To see the face of the man who dares to hunt me. “Something that fits that grotesque personality of yours,” he continues, shoving his gun against my mouth. I let my lips fall open so that he doesn’t break my teeth, all the while considering if my plan to die at sixty is that important, because I’m starting to think being shot would be worth it if I get to punch this motherfucker who called me grotesque. Twice. The muzzle of the gun rests against my tongue and he rams it farther until it slams against the back of my throat, and I stay calm as my breath is confiscated. The surest way to start choking? Losing your cool—which is something foreign to me. It’s not even a thing I can pretend or mask. “No gag reflex. Interesting.” His rough voice smothers the ringing in my ears. And then something strange happens. Those gray eyes? The ones that haven’t changed and resemble a dead person’s? They’re not completely empty now. Something shifts, the slightest bit, and I see a flash of light. A gleam in the darkness. It’s so fast and fleeting, I’d question my eyes if I had the ability to doubt myself. “But do you know what’s more interesting?” He pulls the gun from my mouth and taps it on my lips, smearing them with my own saliva, then thoroughly wipes it on my shirt, close to my heart. On purpose. To make me see that I disgust him, hence the excessive wiping, and he’s doing it near my heart so that I know he could shoot at any second. He even has his finger on the trigger. Sick motherfucker. He’s proficient at messing with people and pushing their buttons, it seems. If it were anyone else, they’d be trembling at the very least and begging to be released at most. Too bad for him that I don’t do that. But he better watch his back after I get out of here. “Want to know what’s more interesting?” he asks again with his gun to my throat. “I’m sure you’ll enlighten me.” “Such a little brat.” “Oh my, what gave me away?” “Watch it.” He presses the gun in further, and I swallow because it’s blocking my trachea. His eyes watch the movement, mechanically, like I’m a boring game, before sliding back to mine. “You’re not fighting. Why?” “If I do, will you let me leave this tiresome event?” A dark chuckle spills from him. “No. But it might make the event less tiresome.” “That’ll only be possible if you tell me what you want.” “What makes you think I want something?” “Surely you didn’t point that gun and play a whole intimidation game for nothing? That’d be an epic waste of your time, and mine.” “Wasting both our time is the last thing I want.” His gun skims my belt at the same time as he stresses thing. I grow still. It couldn’t be. My fingers start to wrap around the gun, but he slips it out of my hand and jams it against my head. “Touch it again and I’ll spill your brains on the floor.” “It’s not a shotgun. No brains will be spilled.” “You believe yourself to be funny?” “No, I just dislike inaccurate information.” His gun slides down again, this time over my belt, and my hand twitches, but I don’t reach for it. Instead, I say in my clearest voice, “Stop.” “A word Yulian wouldn’t have been able to say if you’d had your way with him.” I pause. Was that anger? Hatred? Both? It’s the first time I’ve heard any emotion in his voice and it’s because of…Yulian? What is he? His boyfriend? I didn’t know Yulian swung in that direction. Maybe he plays for both teams? “How far did you plan to go?” The man slips the gun beneath the waistband of my jeans, the tip grazing my stomach. “I said. Stop.” “And I asked you a question.” The tip of the silencer trails down to my groin. And he’s touching me now. His fucking hand that’s wrapped around the gun is on my lower stomach, over the shirt, yes, but that doesn’t negate the fact that this fucking piece of shit is touching me. Putting his revolting hand that’ll be broken on me. “Did you plan to ram this limp dick inside him after you drugged him?” He speaks against my face, his mask almost pressing against my cheek, but at least his body is at a distance. Except for the fucking hand, its warmth unbearable. “So that’s what all this is about?” I force a smile. “You’re jealous I almost fucked Yulian, who’ll never look in your worthless direction?” He jams his gun against my cock and I grunt, pain erupting through me. But at least my theory is confirmed. I’d find the information interesting under different circumstances. Now, I have to bite my tongue to suppress the pain. Motherfucker has hurt me more in the course of one night than anyone in my entire life. I’m going to find out who he is and have him killed. I might not do it myself, but he needs to be eliminated for daring to get on my last nerve. And touching me. He’s still fucking touching me. “So you won’t even pretend otherwise?” His voice darkens, deepening. “Oh, well.” He pulls the gun out and takes a step back. Is he going to shoot me now⁠— “On your knees.” “I’m good. Shoot me while I’m standing.” “I’m not going to shoot you, little monster. At least, not yet.” He places a hand on my shoulder and shoves me down so hard, my knees meet the ground with a thud and pain rips through my bones. “What do you think⁠—” “Shh.” He taps the gun on my mouth. “I don’t want to hear your revolting voice.” The fuck is wrong with this asshole? My voice is deep, composed, and always gets the girls hot and bothered. I have a beautiful voice. Everyone knows that. Every. Fucking. One. So how dare he? With the gun to my mouth, he unbuckles his belt with his free hand, and I stare in a rare, dumbfounded moment as he pulls out his half-erect cock. Did this creep get hard by threatening me? Bringing me to my knees? The veins on the back of his large hand bulge as he fists his cock. And it’s a big cock. A bit bigger than mine, to my dismay, and I have a pretty monstrous one.