Chapter 17: Hogtied

There was darkness, then shimmers of light, then darkness again – before that, there was John, running, screaming, and shooting, braving through hellfire for you but you were just running so fast, farther and farther away from him, until you couldn't see him anymore. A trickle of blood fell from your temple to your lips. You knew it was blood because of its taste and smell, the scent of which was pretty familiar to you by now.

When Leviticus Cornwall demanded Dutch Van der Linde come out and show himself, he had other plans for you. If the notorious outlaw did survive this, at least he'll have one of them. He can feed you to the Pinkerton hounds and hunt Van der Linde and every last one of you. They can torture you and make you know all different kinds of pain until there was nothing left for you to do but sing.

"Deal with this nonsense," Cornwall ordered.

"Take the girl." He signalled to the man who had his arm tightly around your neck and a gun to your temple. You kicked and struggled and whimpered realising that wasn't getting you anywhere. You looked at John, only to see that he was also in the same situation as you. He was disarmed, and Cornwall's men simply outnumbered all of you. Anger, panic, and fear in John's eyes as he helplessly watched you get hauled, struck, and hogtied; your unconscious body stowed on a horse. He swore he'll come and get you and put a bullet in each one of them the second he breaks free.

There were shimmers of light, and your stomach ached as you felt the full weight of your body on it. It hurt even worse at each gallop. Your wrists burned against the rope that bound your hands together behind your back.

You didn't know how much time had passed since you were struck unconscious, but as what you gathered from the smell sans the mud, manure, and livestock, you figured you weren't in Valentine anymore. When you run with outlaws, and you find yourself hogtied and stowed at the back of the horse and taken to god knows where by said group's enemies, the chances of coming out of this alive are relatively slim.

Then there were deafening gunshots, and your abductors collapsed, the horse that was carrying you darted at the explosions, and you immediately fell to the ground.

'John?' desperately hoping it was him as the, then this nightmare could be over.

You could hear the thumping of several pairs of boots on the dirt and the clanking of spurs drawing near. You realised it wasn't John. There could be at least three of them. One of them crouched down and titled your face towards him. Your eyes squinted as they adjusted to the light.

"Well, well, well. Pretty little thing, aren't ya?" A lean, elderly man, with stringy neck length grey hair, hovered over you.

'That voice, where have you heard that voice before?' then your world fell into darkness again right when you just started to remember.

The men didn't cut you free, that would have been too easy. Your nightmare wasn't over yet, as you vaguely felt being picked up again and stowed back on a horse.

"Shit, they got her. They fucking got her… I couldn't save her; I couldn't protect her." John angrily shouted to his companions, as bullets rained upon them.

This shouldn't have happened. Of all the subsequent mornings since Van der Linde gang robbed one of Cornwall's trains, THIS has to be the morning that he finally caught up with you. John cursed as he fired his gun.

"We have to get out of here alive first. We can't save her if we're all dead." Arthur reminded him.

"We will get [Y/N] back, John, but let's get out of here first." Dutch firmly assured.

You woke up with a sting in the head right where Cornwall's guard had struck you with the frame of his gun, still disoriented as to the who's, where's, why's, and how's. You wanted to rub your eyes, but you realised they were still bound together, a sturdy rope connecting it to the iron pipe bed frame where your abductors had placed you. You wriggled, but they were never coming off unless someone untied you or cut it with a knife.

You looked around. It was dark, but the lamp on a nearby table illuminated the room enough for you to figure out that you were in a cabin, in disarray and poorly maintained, a cow skull hung on the wall. You were alone but not for long, that's for sure. You started to cry, faced with the fact that this nightmare of yours could just be starting.

You froze when you heard footsteps approaching and the door creaking as it opened. It was the lean elderly man from earlier, he dragged a stool and placed it next to the bed. He sat across you. He smiled quite menacingly.

"You don't remember me, do you?" The man asked. You felt sick to your stomach just hear his voice, your eyebrows furrowed, and confusion painted in your face, as you desperately tried to remember who the hell he was.

"You know I never got to repay your dad for his services when he took that bullet from me." He said, gesturing to a spot on his arm where he remembers the bullet was lodged.

A plethora of emotions rushed in as you remembered that night – that night when this very man who's sitting across you now and the outlaws he led invaded your dad's office; that night when you watched your father get killed by this man, and that same night when your life has changed forever.

"How precious! We kill your daddy, and then you go running and sleeping with the likes of us!" He mocked.

"What do you want with me?" you cautiously asked. Although cornered and beaten, your eyes still wet with tears, you didn't want to give this man the pleasure of seeing you cry and beg for mercy, for as long as your able to anyway.

"Let's see if you worth anything to lure Dutch Van der Linde out of his hole, and if not, I'm pretty sure my boys can think of something." He gave you his answer with a smile that is almost predatory. You flinched and closed your eyes when he stood up, fearing for the worst. He stroked your head, and it made you squirm in disgust.

But whatever nefarious plans this man had in store for you about them, this wasn't the night for them. You realised this when he turned his back and exited the room where you were held captive, leaving you alone again.