Chapter 2.
Taking care of the puppies wasn't as hard as Roslyn originally had thought. You only had to walk them, feed them and cuddle them. The problem was taking them out for walks every day. Routines were dangerous for her as it made her an easy target for her enemies if they knew her schedule. Having leashes around both of her hands, she didn't have time to pull out her gun as a hand covered her mouth. The person held a syringe and stuck the needle into one of her veins and released the substance into her bloodstream. Her body slumped and she stopped fighting against the grip of her attacker after a few seconds.
Roslyn groaned and coughed as her eyes fluttered open. Her hands had been bound and she immediately began pulling at her restraints. The material created friction against the skin on her wrists, burning them and causing them to sting. They had seated her in a chair, which they had bolted to the floor.
Roslyn heard a door open behind her. Two men entered and stood to face the woman. She gave them a wide, sinister grin and purred, "Do you really think this is a good idea, Thiago?" She was taunting him, testing his patience.
Thiago was a tall, Spanish man in his late thirties with a clean-shaven face and a crooked nose. He did not exactly reek of authority. Growling, he grabbed Roslyn's throat tight and squeezed. "I am going to have so much fun with you, you little whore." He grinned like a madman, pulling out a pocket knife from his jacket. Holding it just inches away from her eye, he said in a maniac, sing-song voice, "An eye?" he ran the knife along her cheek, slicing it, and moved to her shoulder, "Or maybe your whole arm now that we're at it?" In a split second, he stabbed the knife into her shoulder, twisting it twice.
She let out a cry of pain, gritting her teeth. "People are looking for me, asshole. You'll never walk out of this place alive." She snarled and spit in his face. Roslyn resented this man. He was a coward and a backstabber.
Thiago growled, turning the knife that was still in her shoulder."I've got tons of men outside. No one will make it in." He grabbed her right hand, taking hold of her index finger, twisting it backward. She cried out in pain, slugging forward in the chair. "You're one dead fucking bitch."
Her eyelids started dropping, her face white of exhaustion. He lit a cigarette, blowing the smoke into her face as he breathed out, "You comfortable? I hope not - because this will go on for so long." He drew out on the words, creeping closer to her face. He took one more draw of the cigarette, pushing the glowing butt down onto the top of her hand, smirking as she tried to jerk her hand away from the heat.
Roslyn laughed painfully, "I will have so much fun strangling you." She was wheezing and it was hard to breathe.
"Good luck with that," Thiago taunted, giving her hurt shoulder a rough pat. Roslyn flinched, turning her head to the side to not meet his gaze.
Thiago walked out of the room, locking the big doors behind him. Roslyn sighed with relief and let herself ease up where she sat, bloody and beaten. Her arms felt heavy at her sides and she just wanted to lay down for a while. The blood loss made her dizzy and tired, but she knew if she fell asleep, she may not ever wake up again.
Loud, angry voices were heard in the next room followed by several gunshots. There was a long silence before the doors unlocked and slowly slid open. Roslyn was close to dozing off, and the last thing she saw was Joseph running up to her.