Sam could taste blood in her mouth as her captors made their way up the seemingly endless flights of stairs to their boss's "office" at the very top of the tower she'd visited once before.
The brunette gear tried to ignore the aches that seemed to cover her entire body as two of the men practically dragged her up each steep step. She'd given up trying to escape for now; Sam knew that she'd find the opportune moment to make her move soon enough, and she wanted to save her strength for when it came. But as she continued to make her way upward, she knew that strength was progressively waning. She clamped her eyes shut as one of the men gripped her arm harshly; aggravating the bruises that now covered her tanned body.
Sam was determined to keep going though. He'll come. He will. He promised.
She tried to sooth herself with the thought of making the bastards pay, dearly. Sam knew she'd enjoy the moment the tables turned, and guilt didn't even cross her mind as she felt blood drip from her nose, leaving a stain on the gag tied around her mouth. Samantha Byrne was a good person, a kind person, but she wasn't going to let this slide. They'd not only put their hands on her, but on Baird as well. Sam thought of the last time she'd seen the blonde haired gear. The image of him lying lifeless, bleeding, wouldn't go away no matter how much she tried to reassure herself that he was alright. She didn't even know if he was alive. She'd seen the blood, the way he hit the ground, heard the thud of the man's gun coming in contact with the mechanic's head. Stop that. Of course he's alright. He's strong. He'll come. He promised.
After what seemed like hours, the small group finally reached the massive doors, emblazoned with the letter "G". They led to Griffin's office, Sam recalled. She was reminded of her past visit as her feet dragged along the filthy floors. Everything looked basically the same, but the brunette at once noticed the significant damage Myrrah's Tempest had inflicted upon the weakened structure. It had taken its toll for sure.
There were less people too. Way less. Sam remembered how crowded Griffin Tower had been during her previous visit; a stark contrast to the current number of inhabitants. They were all men, she noted. And every one of them had guns, wore armor or some type of military gear. They didn't resemble Stranded at all. They looked more like mercenaries. Sam wondered where they'd come from as the leader pushed the doors open and forced her inside. The brunette noticed his hesitation before doing so and hid a smile. Not so tough now, are you asshole…
Aaron Griffin took his time turning around from the picture window behind his massive desk, but his pleased, content expression was at once shattered when his eyes fell upon Sam.
"Who the fuck is this?" He demanded, his voice the same mixture of arrogance and wickedness that Sam found effectively repulsive.
"Sir—" Carris began before Griffin stood from his seat, shutting him up instantly. Sam noticed the man visibly cringe with each of his boss's steps. He'd removed the bandana that covered his face when they'd arrived, and had been unable to mask his fear since.
"I said," Griffin was right in his face now, teeth bared as his spoke, his tone a low snarl. "Who the fuck is this?"
"Listen, she said—"
"Boy, don't give me any of your shit!" Griffin was shouting now. He removed the sunglasses from his face, and the flash of rage in his piercing stare was enough to make Sam's eyes widen, if only for a second.
"I told you what to do, told you exactly what to do, and you fuck it up!" Griffin gestured to Sam, contempt etched across his harsh features. "The blonde one! I told you the blonde one!"
"I—we thought you said, 'with the blonde one,'" Carris stated sheepishly. His companions didn't dare move a muscle.
Griffin's nostrils flared as he inhaled sharply. He was seconds from losing his temper completely, before he pulled his sidearm from his belt and shot Carris at pointblank range through the skull. Blood spattered on the men and their hostage before he crumpled to the ground, nearly dragging Sam with him. Her captor's eyes went wide as their gaze fixed upon their dead comrade, slumped against the ground with only half of his head intact. Dark red blood began to pool on the floor, and as Griffin casually replaced his pistol, Sam did all she could to hide her disappointment. She'd been robbed of the chance to make the tosser regret the way he'd treated her, and the sight of Griffin seemingly taking pleasure in the act made her blood boil. No matter, she reminded herself. One down, two to go.
As Griffin wiped at the flecks of blood on his vest, Sam wondered how he'd come to the conclusion that Anya was Marcus' "girl". The female gear recalled how Marcus had reacted when Griffin spoke down to the Anya. The sergeant usually tensed up whenever she was spoken of, and Sam concluded that Griffin must have caught on to his "tell".
"One of you, get that asshole out of here before I lose my patience," Griffin ordered, his composer now fully intact. Morgan jumped on the opportunity to get hell away from his comrade's murderer, and dragged the body out of the large room, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. Barns was left with Sam now, and he held on to her even tighter than before.
The female gear threw her aching shoulders back as Griffin turned his gaze to her direction. She wanted to make sure he knew that he wasn't going to intimidate her.
"So, who the fuck are you?" he asked again, taking a seat behind his desk once more. He gestured for Barns to undo the gag, lacing his fingers together after replacing his sunglasses.
"Not the one you needed, apparently," Sam sneered the second she was able to speak freely. "You sure picked a good couple of jackasses to do your dirty work though, that's for sure."
Griffin didn't expect that kind of an answer from the pettily built brunette, and it showed as he furrowed his brow. He scoffed at her impudence, and Sam could tell she'd gotten to him.
"You hear this bitch?" he mumbled in Barn's direction with an indignant grin. He waved the pair over, and Sam stifled a groan as her captor's fingertips dug into her skin. Griffin leaned over the desk with an obviously forced casual air, and spoke in his sickening all-knowing tone.
"You don't know who I am, do you." He stated condescendingly.
"Actually, I do," Sam responded bitterly. "Unfortunately."
"Oh that's right…" Griffin snapped his fingers theatrically, recalling the time Fenix had come, asking for his help. The motherfucker…
"Then you should know better then to take that tone with me, bitch."
Sam was determined to let the bastard know his words had no effect. Who the fuck does this asshole think he is? She was about to toss a few pointed comments his way before Griffin gestured to his now right hand man, and Barns began dragging her out of the room.
"You know, you're bloody lucky you got the wrong person," Sam called just before they reached the doors.
"Oh yeah? And why's that?" Griffin responded; her blatant arrogance was grating on his nerves.
"Because if I was 'Fenix's girl', you'd be dead already." The brunette held his gaze with a smirk before her kidnapper dragged her passed the doors, shutting them behind him.
"You nasty bitch," Barns snarled, replacing the gag over Sam's mouth with added force. The brunette did all she could not to whimper as the rough fabric dug into her flesh. He turned her body to face him, grabbing a handful of hair at the back of her head, forcing her to meet his gaze.
"You're lucky to be alive right now, so show some fucking respect."
Bite me, Sam retorted silently. The cloth over her mouth made it impossible to speak, so she held his gaze defiantly instead.
Her captor pulled her into a small room off to the side of the large hallway, where Morgan and another man Sam hadn't seen before stood waiting. After shoving her inside and shutting the door, Barns tugged his bandana off, revealing a large scar which spread from his top lip to his chin. His unshaven face paired with the black paint over his dark eyes gave him a monstrous appearance. Sam felt herself begin to shake as he stepped closer, invading her personal space.
"You know, since you're not the one he wanted after all, I don't really see much use in letting you live." He ran his fingers through her hair, pushing a brunette lock from her face as he let his eyes wander. Sam recoiled at his touch, eyes blazing as her teeth clamped over the gag.
Barns glanced at his companions, and they began to forcefully remove the female gear's chest piece. Sam immediately voiced her protest, but her words came out muffled, which only infuriated her more. She began to struggle, but they were just stronger, and the thick leather strips they'd tied around her wrists upon their arrival weren't aiding her efforts in the least.
The men threw her armor to the side, and took in the sight of her lean upper body, now covered only by her hunter green tank top. The new member of the group smirked, unsheathing a jagged knife. He brandished it as his superior pulled Sam's body closer to his. By now, the south-islander was shouting, all but screaming at him to get his bloody hands off her despite the gag, which only seemed to encourage her captors.
"Maybe we'll find some use for you after all…"
Barns looked around the room at each of his comrades before turning back to her. Sam's mind screamed at her to do something, anything, as the large figures moved closer. She felt completely helpless, and her thoughts once again returned to the man she loved. She'd wanted to cry out for help, but only his name came to mind.
Damon…oh, God...Please don't let them—
One of her captors brushed against her bare shoulder, and that bit of contact jolted Sam back to the present situation, enabling her to regain her strength. I won't die. Not like this.
As the group backed her into a corner, her fingertips slid over the knife concealed at the small of her back, gripping it with all her might. She fought the urge to scream as Barns pulled at her top. She could feel his bandaged palm against her skin as his hand began to roam over her chest. She blinked away the tears that had formed in her eyes, mentally preparing herself, rehearsing her next move.
The moment she felt a hand on her backside, Sam severed the leather around her wrists, and brought the blade of her knife to Barn's neck, slitting his throat in one fluid motion. The man immediately brought his hands to his wound, which gushed with blood as he choked for air.
"What the fuck?!" One of the men pulled away, and Sam went for the person closest to her. Morgan's confused, horrified expression didn't change as Sam's knife entered his neck, sending dark red liquid spurting like a geyser as she pierced his jugular. He followed his superior, and crumpled to the ground in a heap. The third man had seen enough; he dropped his knife and reached for his sidearm before the brunette could take a step closer.
"Holy fuck…," he muttered in disbelief. His hands were shaking, his knuckles white as he gripped the pistol with every ounce of his strength, pointing it directly at her forehead. Sam panted violently, refusing to let go of her weapon, now bathed in dark red. Blood dripped from her hands as she held the man's gaze with an animalistic look in her eyes. The brunette didn't hesitate to reach up and cut the gag from her mouth, smearing blood across her cheek as she did so. She wiped at it with her forearm, never taking her eyes from the man in front of her. She could hear the footfalls of the others in the background now, coming to aid their companions after overhearing their screams.
"Don't you ever, ever, put your fucking hands on me again. Is that clear?"
She couldn't manage to catch her breath, and she felt her hands were shaking as the adrenaline began to subside. The man didn't say a word; he just stared at her with wide eyes as if he were still trying to comprehend the entire occurrence. He had to be in his early thirties at least, Sam had observed, but as of now, he resembled a horror-stricken child. He seemed reluctant to tear his gaze from her face to glace over his shoulder at the three men who'd just arrived, guns drawn.
"Holy s— what the fuck is this?"
They took only a second to search the puddles of blood pooling at their feet, before training their weapons on the prisoner. Two of them were on Sam in an instant, and wrenched the small knife from her grip with next to no effort. By now, Sam was exhausted, her hands shaking violently, but she didn't regret her actions for a second.
That's for Baird. That's for my Damon, you bastards.
"You crazy bitch," One of the men struck her across her right cheek before grabbing hold of her wrists, but the pain barely registered. Sam met his gaze and spit in his face, that savage look still flickering like fire in her eyes.
The man who seemed to be in charge—light hair, mid-forties—pushed passed his comrades and grabbed Sam by the arm. He looked into her eyes for a moment, scanning her bloodied face with bright green eyes, and then glanced down at two bodies at his feet before turning to the others.
"Anyone else want to mess around with her, go right ahead."
Sam noticed the tone of his voice; by no means gentle, but less…violent than the others. She couldn't tell if he was being merciful, or just trying to avoid another outburst. She decided on the latter, not about to let her guard down for even a fraction of a second.
The older man led her out of the stuffy room and made his way back towards Griffin's office. By now, Sam had steeled herself for Griffin's reaction to the killing of his men; the brunette was just glad to leave that closet-sized space, and the people inside it, behind. She'd never been more frightened in her life.
***Wow, long chapter :O I told you guys I'd update sooner, so I did my best to be true to my word. I hope you enjoyed this one, I'll be back with chapter 5 soon. :)