A/N: Sorry about the short chapter, but this one will make up for it I hope! Anyways, thanks for reviewing! It's great!
The Dominant
By Rene95
Chapter 14: Life or Death Shocks
Chapter warnings: Violence, drama, adult themes. Reader discretion is advised on this chapter.
The room was completely dark. His head hurt like hell, and he had no idea where he was. It was muggy, like he was underground in some sort of oubliette. There was a bad smell; like mold and death. That might sound dramatic, but it was pretty bad.
He tried to move, but his legs and arms were tied down. Okay, now he was freaking out. He knew how to get out of them, but the panic wasn't allowing him to accomplish anything close to productive. He tried to scream, but his throat was dry, like his vocal chords had been ripped out. There was tape over his mouth. He struggled. He was tossing himself around but he was just not able to move that much. The loudest sounds he was making were grunts, and they weren't loud enough to easily be heard.
He eventually stopped, and the tears flooded his eyes. What the fuck was going on? Why the fuck was this happening? He was sleeping in his hotel room...
Blaine heard the door open, and for a split second he saw some of the room, grey walls, that was it, and then the door was shut. A light was turned on, and two men were looking down on him. The first man had a hoodie and a mask over his face, so obviously Blaine was unable to see who it was, but the second man was dressed sharply in a suit and tie, face completely available for all to see, and it was no one other than Igneous Type himself.
"Well, looky what we have here…" The terrifyingly familiar voice tauntingly said. "…one Blaine Anderson, completely at my expense."
Blaine struggled at the restraints, he couldn't move. He couldn't scream. Blaine had never felt more alone and helpless in his entire life. Both arms and legs were tied down, if he moved his neck anymore, the rope on his neck would choke him. This is why he was a dominant, not a submissive. He couldn't handle this for two minutes let alone the hours Kurt goes through it. That wasn't really important here, though. This wasn't some sexual game that he exercised with Kurt. Blaine could easily die.
Then, he realized something.
The familiar voice from before that had taunted him, wasn't Type's.
"Now, we wouldn't want to scare him now." Igneous responded to the man, in a patronizing tone. "We want our guest to feel warm, and welcomed. Don't we?"
"This fucker made my life terrible. Ever since high school…I couldn't pass up a chance, literally right in font of my face, to kill him." The second man said, face still hidden by the mask and hoodie.
"All in good time," Igneous didn't use the man's name, which frustrated Blaine. They both left, and Blaine was alone again, in the dark ass room. Shit, shit shit SHIT! What the fuck was going on? He was in the fucking hotel, and now he wasn't, he was tied down, in some hellhole, who KNOWS where? People probably didn't know he was in here, and worse, his beautiful husband was home alone, pregnant, and waiting for his call or Skype or text. And he wouldn't be able to give it to him.
Blaine started to struggle. Harder than before. Being careful around his neck, but pulling roughly at the foot and arms ties. Eventually, the leg one came loose. Obviously they don't know how to hogtie as well as Blaine did, because, not only was he able to tie them really well, he knew how to get out of them really well. Now that he had calmed down a little, he was able to easily rid himself of the restraint, the right leg being the last one.
He got off of the table, stretched, and grabbed some rope to use as some sort of a weapon. He didn't know what was out of the doors, and he wanted to be kind of prepared. He went up to the door, and tried to open it. It was locked. So, he could just wait. That was all he could do.
Hours passed, he was getting dehydrated and was starved. He could barely move. He was exhausted but not sleepy. He couldn't stand up any longer, he stumbled backwards and slid down against the wall. Sweat from who knows what water in his body was pouring down his face, and he was desperately taking breaths, trying to stay awake, but darkness spread over his vision. He was out in a matter of seconds.
Kurt had thrown up for the third time this morning.
He was around two and a half months into his pregnancy, and the morning sickness was definitely kicking in. He was ill almost all the time, worrying about Blaine in his other time, and…he just didn't know what to do with himself. He missed his husband so much it was so sad.
He remembered everything about Blaine. His look, his scent, his taste, his composure, his everything. He loved Blaine with all of his heart, craved his control with all of his mind, and yearned for him with all of his soul. He missed Blaine. He missed him and loved him so much.
Blaine woke up. It was a sudden, quick eye opening wake up. Not a struggle to remember how, grogginess like how he did the previous time. He was able to take in his surroundings easily. Bright room, much like an office building. Probably one as a matter of fact. Huge windows. White walls. Bright.
"Bright," was a word that echoed through his mind several times. But, "not alone," was a phase that was circulating itself through his mind as well. He would hear occasional sounds, but nothing else.
Then, he felt it.
Horrible pain from a blow.
Then another, and another.
He was getting beaten up.
This is when it occurred to him to remove himself from the fold up chair he was sitting in, and then run away, but, then he realized that he was handcuffed to it. His forcefulness of trying to get out made the chair fall over, and then the man that was roughing him fell on top of him too. It was a large heap. Blaine was grunting, the other man was groaning, and then Blaine realized he had a free hand. He started to feel between the other man's chest, to try and find a key of any sort. But, then he continued to get his face bashed in. He knew his nose was broken.
Eventually, he was able to get into a position to throw the chair over the man, and of course, Blaine being connected to it, he went right with it. It was awful pain.
The man seemed to be knocked out. It was the hooded sweatshirt man from before, but his partner in crime, the infamous Igneous Type, was no where to be found.
The arm that was connected to the chair was definitely broken, or fractured, or something. It hurt a lot. But, Blaine pushed himself over to the guy, and checked in all of his pockets. He found a gun. Ooh, handy. But he also found the key. The unlocked himself from the chair, held his arm, and quickly grabbed the weapon.
He finally felt powerful again.
His cell phone wasn't on him and he had so many questions, but, there wasn't time. They knew he was here, and they probably know that Blaine knocked the dude out. He had to be quick.
But, even with no time, he was too late.
"Ah, well well well, look who got out."
Blaine knew the voice too well. He pointed the gun at his boss.
"Stay away from me." Blaine was on the verge of going insane. To be fair, he had gone through a lot the past couple of days. Or who knows how long this had been going on?
"Blaine, my dear boy, you might want to look out."
"Wha-"
Blaine was wrestled to the ground, the gun clattering to the floor. "Arg!" The two men the had been fighting before were rolling over each other again. Except this time Blaine wasn't connected to a ten-pound chair. They threw punches, they went back and forth.
"Make them stop."
Blaine and the man were pulled apart by two larger men. Blaine still hadn't seen his face.
"Father and son fight so similarly. But, you'd think Blaine would be more classy."
"You knew my dad?" Blaine said, relaxing against the man holding his arms behind his back. His face was dripping with sweat. He was out of breath.
"Quite well, as a matter of fact."
"How well?"
"Perhaps too well. Sterling Anderson and myself were childhood friends. Been friends our whole lives. We started a company together." Igneous said.
"Vine company?"
"That was his branch. My branch, was Weed Co. I know, i know, following a vegetation topic, but, both of our companies were no where close to gardening. Ever since I was a small boy I wanted to be on Broadway. Except my singing voice is awful, and I didn't have the looks for anything like that, and so I decided that I wanted to own my own theatre business. On the other side, he wanted to kill, kill, kill. After killing your sister, he went on a spree. Those nights he came home late, angry, drunk, he was off killing. Who knows who? Who cares? He would kill with your mother, and then they would come home and fuck.
"But of course she didn't want to live that life. He forced her to. It was either, come with him on his voyages, or be killed herself. Scared into the couple's business, they were in an unofficial partnership with each other. She didn't want that life; for either of them. But, that's what it came to be."
"So what's Vine Co? I never got to understand what it was." Blaine said.
"Vine Company itself was a branch off of my own company."
"So what was it?"
"An assassin. People would call in, needing a job done, and Sterling would send his boys off to do the dirty work for thousands, sometimes millions, of dollars."
"I knew it."
"But, you don't know the best part. Once they killed or severely beat up the victim, they would force the caller, or the person that wanted the job done, to come and work in my business for at least a year. Slavery, a little. Sometimes, they would volunteer to be my subs instead, and so I have about five at the moment."
"That's illegal."
"You think I give a straight up fuck about what's against the law and what's in the law?" Igneous said, anger growing.
"No, probably not. But, everyone that I worked for, and with, they were slaves?" Blaine asked.
"Some of them. Others simply interviewed, I liked them, and hired them. You being an Anderson, I couldn't pass you up. And your father's explicit orders were to get you here." Igneous revealed.
"My father didn't order you to do shit. He's dead. Has been for almost a year. He-"
"-faked his death, and, quite frankly, just beat the living hell out of you." A different voice said.
Blaine turned around, and he was instantly sick. His father, was standing right in front of him.
There were certain questions that required certain people for the answer, and Blaine was needed to answer Kurt's many questions as to why he wasn't answering his calls, texts, e-mails….it had been two days since Kurt had heard from Blaine, and they talked every damn day since he was gone to Lima. The busy city of New York was very unperturbed without the love of his life by his side.
At this point he was a little over a month pregnant. Blaine had been gone about a month and a half, and Kurt was so lonely. Having not heard from Blaine in two days. It was awful.
Some of his many questions, was, obviously why is Blaine not responding? Was he cheating on him? What was he doing down there? What was going on? He was sure Igneous Type, the old bastard, had something to do with it. He may just be turing into one of those "pregnant crazies" that were in the movies. He hoped not. These days nobody came to see him anymore. His "newlywed high" had been fading, not because the wedding was long over, it was because his husband was gone.
His husband was gone, and it wasn't anything he was happy about. Blaine was due home in a little over two weeks. He wished he would come home sooner.
"That's not my father. My father, Sterling Anderson, died eight months ago because he drowned himself, the jackass. This man, isn't my father." Blaine said, now struggling against the body guard's hold.
"Shut up, you little shit. You fucked up my life the minute that bitch said she was pregnant our senior year. Like i said, you ruined me since high school."
"You seemed to be doing fine. I didn't do shit to you!" Blaine grunted, trying to get loose. Sterling had been let go and was walking closer to Blaine. "Don't come near me. You're fucking dead."
"I'm obviously not. I'm here. I faked my death."
"For what?!"
"For this exact moment."
Chills ran down Blaine's spine. He felt weak. He felt sick. The biggest shock of his life had been thrown on his shoulders and now he might be killed. Who knew what was going to happen at this point.
And where was Kurt?
"You killed that hitchhiker." Blaine accused. "You killed the man in the street. You fucked up my life. You killed…you killed Howard." Blaine said.
"I kill lots of people,"
"He protected me from you."
"Oh, so that's the bullshit man's name that your mother lined up."
"She…she hired him?"
"I didn't know why hundreds of dollars were magically disappearing out of my account. They were going to that man's paycheck. I bet they fucked, too."
"Okay, first off, you didn't know about him? Why did you kill him then? And second, he was happily married." Blaine defended.
"Oh, whoop-dee-doo. Married. That never stopped me." Sterling snarled.
Blaine spit in his face.
"Dammit!" Sterling said, slapping Blaine. Blaine leaned against the body guard and shot his legs right into the face of his father in a large kick.
"Shit! My fucking nose! It's broken!"
"Shut the fuck up you piece of absolute shit." Blaine said, kicking him again. He was loose.
"Stop, both of you!" Igneous Type's new voice screeched. "ENOUGH! Now, we're gonna ahhhh-" A loud boom! had been heard.
Igneous had fallen to the floor, leaving both men speechless. One of the guards went up to him.
"He's dead."
"No. No, no no no no! IGNEOUS! Get your fucking ass up right now. I-" Sterling ran to him, but another boom! was echoing through the building. Sterling was lifeless on the floor as well.
Just like that.
Both of them.
Dead.