Page 92 of Payback
“There are many ways to convey a message. Speaking is not the only one.”
The implication of my words gradually dawned on him, prompting him to contemplate my words. I waited, a smile curving my lips, as he thought about it. He invested considerable time in this decision, scrutinizing it as though it were a puzzle begging to be solved. Ultimately, however, his resolute gaze met mine, and he nodded once—a clear indication of his choice.
Chapter 46
-Jared-
I experienced a gratifying sense of triumph as Pete agreed to unveiling the guarded secret without vocalizing it. He invested considerable time in contemplation before ultimately relenting. Leaning forward, I was captivated by his forthcoming explanation.
“You need to free one of my hands,” he requested, prompting a sigh from me as I leaned back.
“That’s not happening.”
“You have to. I need to remove my t-shirt,” he insisted.
“I can cut it off.”
“No, it’s on my back. You won’t be able to see it like this. Man, my whole body is tied to this chair. I can’t even move,” he reminded me.
I surveyed his body, an air of distrust lingering, uncertain if I should gamble on releasing him partially to finally unravel the answers I sought. I maintained my suspicion, while he met my gaze with an imploring expression.
“Fine,” I conceded, rising to my feet. “But if you try anything...”
I wiggled my knife back and forth, and he nodded. I drew nearer, working on untying his right arm before starting the task of loosening some of the ropes that bound him. Employing a strategic maneuver, he grasped the back of his t-shirt and wrestled it over his head, a result of much wriggling.
“Lower back,” he instructed, and I directed my gaze downward. However, I struggled to discern the details. Leaning in slightly, I prepared to examine it closely. Extending my hand, I placed it on his back, ensuring he remained immobile. My skepticism toward him remained steadfast. “Can you see it?”
Indeed, I saw it, though it took a moment for me to comprehend the significance. It depicted a swirling symbol with a lengthy line traversing it, adorned with two dots—one above and one below the line. Holding Pete in place, I pondered the implications of what lay before me. Abruptly, everything ceased to align logically. Pete glanced over his shoulder, a faint smile gracing his lips.
“You understand why killing me would be inadvisable, right?”
I offered a slight nod, though I abstained from uttering a word. Gently, I eased him back into the chair and proceeded to resecure him. With his arm stretched across the armrest, I meticulously bound it in place using a length of rope.
“Just release me,” he implored.
“I cannot do that.”
“So, what’s your plan now?” he asked, causing me to shake my head in uncertainty. My heart pounded relentlessly in my chest. What had Vince tasked me with? Did he genuinely know Pete’s identity? I glanced up momentarily from my task, only to catch a peculiar smile forming on Pete’s lips. In a swift and calculated move, he smashed his head into mine, exploiting the opening in the rope I hadn’t yet secured and obtaining the knife from my possession. He swiftly cut his upper body free, striking my shoulder and evoking a hiss of pain from me. As I turned away, he thrust the knife into my back, leaving it embedded there. A cry of agony escaped my lips as he twisted it, intensifying the torment, before wrenching it out and freeing himself from the chair.
Swiftly, he released his ankles as I lunged for my bag, retrieving a firearm. Pete seized the moment, hurtling toward me, and we collided onto the floor. He pressed his arm against my throat in an attempt to strangle me, simultaneously pushing the knife toward me, poised to plunge it into my skull. With his body pressing the gun into mine, I was incapacitated from extracting it. I was able to avoid the knife, and it struck the floor. He pulled the knife back, but with his proximity, I executed his own maneuver—delivering a forceful headbutt that prompted a groan from him. Using his momentary vulnerability, I managed to maneuver my legs between his, initiating a rotation. He swung the knife in an attempt to inflict another wound, yet I intervened, seizing his arm and propelling it forward. With the help from the momentum, I drove the blade into his face, penetrating his eye. His body immediately went limp, his tension dissolving. A sigh of relief escaped me as I subdued him, pinning him beneath me. However, that relief was short-lived, swiftly replaced by the realization of my actions. What had Vince entangled me in? Did he fathom the consequences of this? I couldn’t afford to let them find out that I had taken Pete’s life. I needed to rectify this chaotic situation!
-Alison-
I found myself leaning against the wall, legs pulled tightly against my body. Sitting there on the cold ground, confusion and a profound sense of being lost gripped me. Jared’s words remained a jumbled mess in my head. My mind recoiled from accepting their truth because it meant... it meant... perhaps I now understood his rage even better. I had assumed my actions had driven him to the brink, yet perhaps there was an entirely different force at play. Something I had unwittingly set in motion, a ripple effect of sorts. If only I could rewind time. I’d stop whatever chain of events had led to this point. But how could I have foreseen such an outcome? I had toyed with the idea, insinuated the possibility to Jared as a cruel taunt, trying to feed him to the team, but I had never envisioned it spiraling this far. Leaning my head against the wall, I released a sigh. My tears had dried up, yet an ache persisted within my chest. This feeling was unwanted, despised. It was new to me, burning from within. Could I ever convince Jared that I bore no responsibility, or had he already made up his mind about me? His absence had extended for a considerable time, making me wonder if he’d even return tonight. Despite my hunger and the pressing need to relieve myself, I remained rooted to the floor. I knew he wouldn’t concern himself with my inability to use the bathroom. Should he return and find me sitting in my own pee, he’d likely not care, perhaps even deny me the luxury of a shower. I wouldn’t fault him if he did. Considering what he had undergone, I’d likely do the same in his position. Maybe the terms of our contract were too nice. Why not keep me as his slave forever? Perhaps that could finally balance the scales.
“Fuck,” I murmured, grappling with the belief that I couldn’t detest anyone more than Jared, only to realize someone else had now claimed that very spot.
Could I ever make amends for that? Could this month truly satisfy him? And could it balance me as well? Would this gnawing guilt in my heart ever dissipate, or was I doomed to be engulfed by it? I struggled to understand why one of the team members had gone back. Or perhaps, on second thought, it wasn’t so unfathomable. The way I had manipulated people’s perceptions of Jared had dehumanized him entirely. I had reduced him to the level of a dog, or maybe even lower. He was disposable. And that, I knew, was a consequence of my own actions. Slowly, I buried my face in my hands, a deep groan escaping me. In that moment, I wished I could extract my own heart, sparing myself from this overwhelming agony. Gently, I began to tap my head against the wall, a feeble attempt to alleviate the torment, but it was futile against the persistent ache. It continued as I sat on the floor, consumed by self-loathing.
“What have you done?” I whispered.
The urgency of needing the bathroom momentarily overshadowed my guilt, yet I understood that once my bladder was empty, the remorse would surge back even stronger. Maybe it was fine that I soil myself—a fitting humiliation, considering my actions. I doubted whether I could even muster the strength to reach the bathroom. With my eyes shut, I grappled with how to compose myself. I yearned to pace, to expel the distress somehow, yet my energy was sapped, preventing any movement. The ache was unbearable, driving me to search for an outlet.
Suddenly, a series of footsteps approached down the hallway, the sound oddly amplified. I puzzled over the reason behind the noise. Had something agitated Jared, triggering a need for more? Anticipation spread within me as I waited for the door to swing open, expecting to be overwhelmed by guilt at the sight of him. Instead, an entirely different sentiment greeted me. Jared burst into the room, his skin glistening with sweat, his complexion an unnatural pale color. He seemed to lean heavily on the door handles to maintain his balance. His disheveled appearance and the haste in his movements left me wondering: was he under the influence of something?
“Jared... I mean, Master, listen...” Jared advanced toward me, lowering himself to kneel and reaching for the lock securing my collar. “There’s something I need to say...”
“Shut up,” he breathed.
