A/N: So glad I got to get out another chapter this week! I hope everyone likes it - and another character in this story is from a fairy tale! Check out the author's note at the end for it.
The car was going too quickly for Belle to get out. The streets were barren and it didn't even seem to matter that there were stop signs or lights. "What's going on?" Belle asked with a slight tremble in her voice, "Where is Hongrois?"
The driver, obscured by shadows with a voice that Belle only vaguely recognized, chuckled. "A non-issue, Bunny. Just get comfortable – and a word to the wise, stop asking questions."
Belle weighed her options. She could listen, wait for him to stop the car, and bolt. She could throw herself out and pray that she'd land safely without any broken bones, maybe just a ton of gravel imbedded into her arms and legs. Or, she could just do as he said, hope that made a difference in the end.
Most of those scenarios ended with her inevitable death, whether it was getting shot as she ran or breaking her neck, or simply being walked into the river.
It was funny, Belle had never been afraid to die before – it seemed like such a remote possibility as a girl with nothing remarkable about her life. If Belle two years ago heard this story, she would have imagined it coming from the back of a gossip rag or some kind of dime novel, but it was happening and this was reality.
Gulping, she squashed her fears – it wouldn't do to dwell on them. She had to focus. Steadying her breathing, the bunny weighed her options. She had to take her chances; she'd go along for the ride. Settling into the seat, she bit the inside of her cheek, hearing the driver laugh again. "Ah, so there is something in between those ears."
Belle was sure he was fond of his own voice at this point, and she couldn't dignify him with any sort of response. She focused on the window, watching the Chicago of early morning hours pass by, street lights and dim windows – tall towers asleep until day break. Belle wondered if it would be the last time she'd see any of it.
The thought filled her chest with horror, but she refused to cry. She refused to have emotions on the subject. Belle was going to do everything in her power to avoid death tonight. She had too much to do, too many bows to tie and livewires to detonate. It was going to take more than this to shut her down.
So, it continued rushing along, down the dark streets and toward the seedier side of the city, until they weren't even in the city anymore. The buildings were few and farer between, and it seemed like they had been driving for hours. Belle would have fallen asleep if not for the adrenaline streaming through her veins on a constant stream.
They were entering a residential area, she could tell by the shapes of the buildings. They looked like houses, big ones, and there were stretches of land in front of them – real yards. Belle had had a yard, always moving from apartment to apartment with her parents, and then just her dad. Yards were something one dreamed about – they didn't actually exist.
She might have dreamed about a place like this, if she had a normal life and normal prospects. Unfortunately, the word normal did not appear anywhere in any description of her life. The driver shut off the engine and got out. Belle didn't dare move until the back door opened and he grabbed her, without warning, to drag her out.
Belle winced as he tugged on her wrist, a sharp pain shooting through her arm as she was dragged out of the vehicle. "C'mon," her captor growled, Belle tripped over her feet as she was pulled. She braced herself as she thudded against the driver, his strong hands grasping her shoulders and steadied her.
Belle gulped as she leaned against him, finding her footing. His hand splayed against her back, holding her still and Belle looked up, half expecting Gold to be standing there, looking down at her with astonishment. But, she didn't see Gold. The man holding her wrist with just a tad too much force and a sneer on his face wasn't the same man she had tumbled into bed with the previous evening, and Belle winced as he shoved her. "Clumsy bitch," the man snarled, and Belle winced.
She hated the way his lips curled and how he didn't give her more than a moment to catch herself before he started again, and tugged her along with a sharp pull. Belle tripped behind him, but regained her footing enough that she could keep up with his long strides despite her rather short legs. "Hurry up," he spat as he looked back at her, Belle catching her first real glimpse at his face.
His features weren't as heavy as she thought – he had light brown skin, obviously a hired hand. There was no softness about him. Though his lips were full, there was nothing welcoming about them, and Belle did not fool herself into believing that despite his large build, he would be against wielding her with force. No, she had the sneaking suspicion he would be more than willing to use his strength against her. He proved that with every pull against her and the twist of her wrist with his firm grip.
The pain turned from sharp stabs to a consistent, dull ache in her hand and Belle grimaced. That could not be a good sign. The man didn't seem to care as she yelped; he only tugged harder and dragged her up the font steps. He squeezed her arm, digging his nails into her arm as he pulled out the keys and unlocked the door with a click.
He pushed the door open and stepped through, snapping at her to come on through his teeth. Belle obeyed, despite her instinct to flee. The house was dark, not just without light, but everything was dark in and of itself. Dark walls, dark furniture… Belle was horrified, and she had to stick close or he was going to do even more damage to her already aching wrist.
She seemed to keep up with him on the stairs that creaked with each hurried step, making Belle's heart race. "Where are we going?" she asked her voice barely above a whisper as they hit the landing between the first and second floors.
The man turned, whipping her violently into the wall. Belle yelped as she collided with the wood paneling, bracing herself with her shoulder. "Shut yourself up," he seethed, bristling as he loomed over her. "Or I'll make you."
Nodding wordlessly, Belle was still attempting to catch her breath from the impact with the wall. He wasn't going to give her a chance though, and they were moving again. Were she a weaker person, Belle might have cried. She wasn't giving anyone that luxury, however.
As they walked down the second floor hallway, it became apparent that one of the rooms had lights on. The closer they got the more Belle's heart jumped into her throat and stomach twisted into uncomfortable knots. Everything that mattered: her fate, her future… it was all behind that door and bathed in light.
Belle steeled herself and with one final pull she crossed the threshold into the lit room, her eyes overwhelmed by the light there. They slammed shut, her hands flying up to block the redness penetrating even if closed gaze. Feeling small, but finally at least a little free from the strong grip of her captor, Belle gulped and readied herself to open her eyes.
"You know," a smooth voice caressed her ears, coaxing her to open her eyes, "it's no wonder you're a favorite down at the club."
Belle couldn't be surprised. It smacked of the mob. Seeing the man in full light, she recognized him from the club, but not by name – and then there was Marco, standing in the corner with a smile Belle could not decipher. It made her uncomfortable. Even more uncomfortable than the fact that the man who had dragged her here was still standing behind her and the man at the desk, with his hands clasped on the top, one eyebrow raised as though he was waiting for her to respond.
She had nothing to say, mouth dry and throat empty. "Glass," Mr. Lattantio lifted his eyes behind her, Belle could only guess he was talking to the man who had taken her here, "Shut the door." She didn't turn, but she could feel the movement happening, hear the creaking of the floor, and the door clicked shut. Belle restrained herself from gripping her eyes closed, but she could not help the impulse to stop breathing. "Now that that's settled," he turned his eyes back to her, "Bunny Belle, was it?"
She nodded, still not breathing, hoping she would not be asked to respond further. "I've heard a lot about you. My son," he didn't even have to indicate it was Marco he was talking about "is fond of your service." She wasn't sure if this was supposed to be a compliment or not, so she decided to remain silent. "But, I suppose I've complimented you enough – time to get to business."
Her stomach was in knots.
"It's come to our attention," he motioned around the room – apparently everyone here knew whatever it was he was going to say – Belle could only guess, "that you've been hearing things."
"Things?" Belle echoed, finally finding her voice in her throat. "I – I don't know what you're talking about." She gulped, and Mr. Lattantio chuckled, shaking his head. The extra skin at his jowls shook with him and Belle had to suppress her shudders.
Shifting in his seat, the chair groaned under his weight, the wood accommodating even the slightest movement. "Bunny, don't be ridiculous. You wouldn't have sought protection if you didn't hear something."
Her heart thumped in her chest. She had to lie. It wasn't just herself she was protecting. "I haven't talked to anyone," Belle replied hastily. It seemed everyone in the room was inclined to laugh at her, however, and low chuckles bubbled up from every corner.
It was Marco's turn to speak up. "No need to lie, Bunny Belle. I'm at the club just as much as you are," is father's look was only slightly reproachful, and only for a moment before he turned his eyes back on Belle, "everyone knows you went to Gold."
Belle couldn't let herself react. It could have been a bluff.
She didn't know how these men acted, but she'd seen enough movies to guess. But, there was the matter of the car, and Hongrois – and she had gotten in without a second thought. Maybe they did know. She sealed her lips, everyone in the room shifting uncomfortably.
"I don't think you understand just how… serious this situation is," Mr. Lattantio pressed, leaning forward, as though she was not smart enough to understand what he was saying without him getting closer, and louder, and slower. "You've upset some very powerful people, Bunny."
Not for the first time, Belle's mouth moved before her mind, and she managed to shock whoever Glass was, behind her, and Marco when she commented, "I don't see how I've upset anyone. I'm the one who was driven out in the middle of the night to be threatened."
When one was cornered, without an option of escape, and better judgment isn't getting them anywhere, sometimes a person says something not quite so smart. Belle's mouth would have inevitably gotten her in trouble here too, and she felt a hand tangled in her hair before she actually registered that anyone had moved. The hand twisted, her hair pulled, and Belle yelped with the force exerted on her. "I suggest you think about what you say," he growled in her ear.
"Down, Glass," the boss behind the desk commanded, and like a loyal lap dog, her hair was released and the sudden freedom was both liberating and painful. She could still feel the throb from the harsh pull and no one in the room spoke as she regained her footing. "A guest should mind her manners," Lattantio chided her, and Belle bit the inside of her lip.
With an exasperated sigh, he continued. "There's no need to prolong this, Sweetheart." Belle grimaced at the nickname, she didn't want this man calling her anything, let alone some kind of pet name, "We know you've been going home with Gold, we know he's been picking you up and dropping you off. And whatever little love story you've crafted for yourself," he waved his hand, cutting her off when she went to open her mouth, "But you see, Bunny, I can't have you in the way."
"Gold has been working with my family for twenty years. Almost longer than you've been alive," the comment was off hand, but she could see the way Marco's shoulders shifted and his smile dimmed, "and that relationship is very important to us."
It didn't seem like there was much to do with her here, and Belle licked her lips. "No disrespect sir," her eyes flicked around the room, "but what does that have to do with me?"
"Getting there, Bunny," his voice was curt - Belle had interrupted again and he wasn't happy about it. At least Glass wasn't at the back of her head pulling at her. She was at least happy for that. "You overheard my idi- my son," he appeared to cut himself off, and Marco seemed more than a little ready to jump forward and defend himself in the case of whatever was intended to be communicated, "and his associates discussing something. Something that you overheard."
Now Belle knew what was going on, and she couldn't believe it was coming back – and how poorly the universe was treating her currently – this evening was a tangle of really unfortunate interactions. "I didn't hear -"
"Bunny!" he snarled, "It's pointless to argue. What you need to know is we are watching. We know you're involved, and I don't know how clear I can make this," he pushed his chair back and stood for the first time. He wasn't particularly tall, nor was he particularly built, but she knew he was powerful, and she knew it was not his physical power that was so threatening.
He didn't even have to rush toward her. He took his time, crossing the rug with his fine Italian shoes, pressed black suit that did not make him look at all sharp, but merely menacing in ways she could not pinpoint. "Now, take it from me, I don't do this often, but," he looked her up and down, leering at her in a way that made Belle's stomach clench, "it'd be such a shame to lose you."
He reached up and touched her hair, brushing his hand against her cheek and Belle felt as though she might vomit. "What do you want me to do?" the question burned in her throat, a fear gripping her of the answers she couldn't even dream that she'd be given. Be brave, she reminded herself, it was the only option.
"Leave him alone, Bunny. Our… indispensables don't need such pretty little distractions running around. You certainly have no idea who you are playing around with. And little girls who play with things they don't understand – well," he laughed, low and dark at her, meeting her crystal blue eyes with his sharp, dark ones. His hand left her hand and took a sharp turn to the underside of her chin. His sausage fingers dug into the muscles and bones of her jaw and Belle winced, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes from the pain of his nails in her skin, "they end up dead."
Roughly shoving her away, turning her head and neck with the force of a push, Lattantio sneered at her momentarily and then looked around the room. "I've got no use for her anymore. Take her back, Glass."
A/N 2.0: Lattantio is from an Italian fairy tale called, "Maestro Lattantio and His Apprentice Dionigi." It's another version of "The Thief and his Master." I thought it was an appropriate usage!