The King’s men
Breathe in. My heart races faster than an Olympic runner on drugs, countless little earthquakes hit my body all over, and rivers of sweat stream down my skin like a waterfall. The dread overwhelms me, but I won't let it take control. Breathe out.
I knew this day would come, but I hoped it won't be this soon. On the other hand, the money I took belongs to the King and, knowing how he does business, to expect anything less would be underestimating him. Insulting, even.
"Tell your boss I'll have your money by the end of the month," I wheeze through the chokehold, addressing the guy holding a cutter, "I've got a job coming up. Enough money to pay back in full and even to leave a tip for the three of you."
He chuckles. Though we are in a dark, secluded alley in the middle of the night, I can see a set of crooked, but clean teeth.
"Well, that settles it, eh? I suppose we should we let her go then?"
He looks at the thug to the right of him, and at the one behind me. They don't reply. He leans closer to me. The overly-saturated scent of cigarette smoke in his breath makes me feel even more nauseous.
"The King asked for a proof that we have an understanding." He grips my wrist tighter. "So, which one will it be, princess?"
Breathe in. There's no shame in being afraid for your life when you're overpowered and pinned by a man, let alone three. Especially if those three are barbaric cut-throats who would happily kill their own child if it meant a big paycheck. The best thing you can do in situations like this one is to do your best to keep your head cool. Almost impossible, I know, but giving into panic will only make it worse. I know. These types of guys, they're predators. Sadistic fucks preying on fear, getting off of crying and begging. But that won't be me. I'm trembling, I want to cry, I want to scream. But I will not. Not right now.
I look him dead in the eye.
"Ring finger."
Breathe out.
The cut is surprisingly swift. For a little moment in time, I feel nothing at first. Then a bolt of pain surges through me, and I feel as if I've put my finger in the molten metal.
The thug behind me puts his gloved hand on my mouth, muffling my scream. They strengthen their grips, waiting until I run out of energy before letting me go. I collapse down on my knees, my breathing sharp and rapid. Clenching my right hand, I hold it closer to my chest, smearing blood all over my shirt.
The two make their way back to the car while I watch as the thug with crooked teeth steps on my severed finger, crushing it with a sickening crunch. It takes all my willpower not to barf my guts out.
He comes closer and pulls me by the hair. "You better have the money by the end of the week or we'll pay a visit to your dear little sister next."
If I wasn't so helpless right now I'd make him regret these words. But I just sit there on my knees and grit my teeth, watching as the thugs get into the car and drive off.
I take the phone out of my back pocket, smearing blood on it and my clothes in the process. I call the number on my speed dial and wait.
"Hey Cleo, what's up?"
"Get Lynn and meet me at the safehouse as soon as possible. We're hitting our mark tomorrow."
I hang up and scream into the night.