Final Curtain

Mel's POV

“How long...?” I whispered as Logan stepped in.

I'd been asking him for what felt like months. And who knew, maybe months had passed. Inside this moldy, old basement time notion wasn't good.

My handler approached—quiet, as always—a water bottle in hand. Oh goody, I'd been upgraded to bottle. Not just a cup.

“I could drink by myself if you just untied me.” Logan gave a wry smirk—yeah, I didn't think it would be that easy. “Worth the try...” I mumbled swallowing as much as I could without choking. He kept it there seeing me draining every drop greedily.

“It's been two weeks.”

I coughed up as reality struck me. Two weeks...?

I moved my hands on instinct; the only times when I was freed was when Logan walked me to a bathroom. It was on the same ground floor. With no windows, with nothing I could use as a weapon. I sighed to calm my nerves—like that was possible.

Leaning my head into the cold chimney, I watched Logan close the bottle. As the days passed, he'd been the only person I saw. He brought me a glass of water, enough food to keep me from starving.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” I asked bluntly. His eyes remained shadowed. “Boyfriend?” still no reaction. “Anyone who you care about at all?”

Logan's head rose, “What do you want?”

I laughed, “That's what I've been wondering all this time. You say I've been here for two weeks? Well, waiting for someone to come in and reveal a master plan is getting excitably boring.”

He chucked the bottle to the side, pacing until he could lean on a wall.

“I have someone who loves me,” I wasn't sure what to accomplish, why I thought he'd care. “He's probably going insane because I'm missing. And... you're boss—whoever he is—wants my boyfriend for whatever reason. So, why hasn't he talked to Nate?” I knew Nathaniel would do anything to get me back. I didn't like that idea, especially when he had such little preservation when I was involved—but it was true. “He hasn't contacted Nate, has he? He hasn't made any demands, because if he had, I know Nate would've done it by now. What's the hold up?”

I noticed the perk of Logan's eyebrow. I smirked. Maybe he didn't think I was smart.

“Our boss hasn't been around.” I frowned. “He's back though,” Logan's voice grew quieter. “I can't say if that's good or bad for you. He really isn't a fan—of any of you.”

Any of us...? Just who the hell was this shadowy persona?

He shifted, gray eyes crossing the door.

“He'll be here any minute, actually.” I kept a gasp in, not wanting to give off any weakness. I was putting up a strong front, but, I was scared. I was in enemy hands. “You shouldn't ask those questions. If it was someone else standing here instead of me, they would've made sure you couldn't talk for a week.”

My gaze fell upon his, twinkling with wonder. It wasn't the first time Logan talked in a hushed manner, almost delicately. I couldn't let his 'sweet' facade fool me. He was an assassin. I only ever truly trusted one assassin—Nate.

Nate.

His image surged each time my eyes closed. Tears burned me; I hoped he didn't do stupid things just to get me. But... with Nathaniel that was wishful thinking.

“I don't.”

I glanced to Logan's stormy eyes, “Excuse me?” had I missed something?

“You asked if I care about anyone. I don't.” My soul was assaulted by an unbelievable sadness—for him. If he didn't care for anyone, that meant no one cared about him.

“I thought assassins didn't share information about themselves.” My eyes narrowed.

His lips turned up, “If you already know that, why ask in the first place?”

“I have nothing better to do.” I muttered shivering. I was still wearing the same clothes, they were starting to smell—that was the least of my worries.

I was bound to a furnace.

My head lolled against the iron poll, “I don't suppose you could bring me a Vanilla late?”

He coughed over a laugh when the door pushed open. I thought Gil would stroll in with some threats, wanting to scare me into submission.

The guy was younger than Gil. Good looking. And... maybe ghosts were real.

“You're dead...”

“That's not a very nice thing to say. But,” the pinkish lips curled at their corners. “It's a normal assumption. After all, you literally stabbed me in the back, locked me in a freezer and left me for dead.”

Oh. My. God.

Nolan stood there; messed curly hair, loose sweater and jeans. He came closer and the boots thudded on the dirt, the hazel-green eyes roaring with life—so not a spirit.

“But... but...” me and Nate locked you in the walk-in freezer, you were bleeding—there was no one. How are you alive? That's what I wanted to ask. I just babbled. “How... it's not... how...?”

A bitter smirk crossed him, “Riley and me were never far from each other—” a cunning glare branded me. Riley. His twin sister, my half-sister. Anna killed her. “She got there not even five minutes after you ran away. She took me to the hospital, unfortunately, I slipped into a coma.” He saw my eyes widen at the word 'coma'. “We have that in common, little sister. Mine was longer than yours, though. And imagine my surprise when I wake up...” he crouched. “To learn my sister and father are dead,” I bit down a heavy gasp. “That The Order has been dismantled, and the members were being caught one by one. Even our sources in police departments.” He braced a hand above my head, on the chimney. “Everyone's being hunted down, including me.”

My eyes flashed with satisfaction. I also had the urge to talk back. My teeth ground; he had the upper hand, he was angry and probably more than a little vengeful.

“Aw, you don't like having your face on 'WANTED' flayers? Too bad.”

Bracing myself for anything, I was shocked when my-not-so-dead-half-brother chuckled thickly.

“As much as I like having my handsomeness displayed all over, I acknowledge it's a very big inconvenient. It's hard to walk the streets.”

Shifting, I heard my shackles clink. I hated feeling helpless.

Delivering a smug glare—I wasn't feeling—I smiled, “That's a heart-warming story and all, but I don't see how kidnapping me is going to help. Nate's not a plastic surgeon.”

“I know. He's a Lawyer—” I felt unease drip down the walls of my stomach. “I had a few laughs with that one. An assassin with a law degree—it's like sleeping with the enemy.”

Suddenly, it felt like I hadn't sipped any water. My throat was desert dry.

“How do you know about that?”

I wished I could punch Nolan's superior smirk off, “The Hive has a very detailed data base. All their assassins are registered. Their information, their contracts...” he pulled out a flash drive, tilting his head. “You had proof against us, it only seemed fair I got some leverage of my own. It wasn't easy. Logan went through a lot of trouble,” my eyes snapped to my caretaker. He avoided looking our way—coward. “Their security is tricky. But after hacking the right mainframe... it was a snitch.” He tucked the piece of technology into a pocket.

Reed had said Nate's adoptive parents hadn't deleted his info, in hopes of him changing his mind. Once information was deleted—about an assassin—it could never be resubmitted. With all their stupid hopes, they'd just damned their son. Not that they cared.

“So, what? You're going to turn him in?” God knew Nate had killed enough people to receive several death penalties—no lawyer in the world would save his skin.

My half-brother snorted, standing.

“I'm a little more creative than that, little sister.” My jaw flexed. “If I was going to turn him in, I would've done it weeks ago. I wouldn’t need you here.” He took one step back. “If I had threatened your boy toy with incriminatory evidence, chances were, he'd take the fall. Between us, he doesn't have much self-preservation.” Much to my chagrin, that was correct. “I needed something to lure him in first. And there's only one thing Nathaniel cares about—it's you.”

I flinched. Attachments were bad news.

“Why do you want him? I don't get what he can do for you.” This wasn't about money, it was about revenge or else, Nate would've been taken in cuffs a month ago.

What was it?

“There are still Order members at large,” Nolan's eyes shifted to Logan. “As you've already confirmed for yourself. And thankfully, there are some new recruits, the downside about them... is their incompetence. Since I can't take care of business myself, I need henchmen—skilled henchmen to carry out my orders.”

His lip curled in a devilish grin as my face got horror stricken.

“No...” I whispered to myself, then louder, “No,” my head shook. “You can't do this—”

“I can,” his eyes narrowed. “And I'm doing it. My sister is dead. The Organization that was meant for me is dying. And it's all because of you—all of you.” He sneered; for the first time since he walked in, I saw it. Hate, loathing, rage—he was a man with a vendetta. “It's not only your boyfriend on my radar, Melissa.” His voice lowered, sweet smile spreading. “I'm going to ruin your life if you don't cooperate.”

“Cooperate how? You're holding me hostage in a moldy basement!” I lost it. My heart was going off at light speed. Restless and scared.

“For now,” he added making hope spark. “And you're being very cooperating. You haven't caused Logan any problems.” Oh, I'd be sure to cause him some deep problems once I got free. Serious problems. “But after Nathaniel and Aric get something done for me—and for your sake you better hope they pull it off—you'll go home. I'll give you back to Nattie.” He shrugged.

My eyebrows knitted, “What's the catch?”

“You have brains.” I forced a sour smile. “Afterwards, all you have to do, is keep Nate in line. Tell him I'm not messing around, tell him that if he doesn't do what I want, I'll ruin his life and yours.” Nolan pulled what looked like a evidence bag, from his back—a gun was inside.

My brain exploded like thousand firecrackers. A headache, coupled with a dizzy spell ganged up on me.

“You recognize this?”

There were plenty guns in the world. Different models, different sizes, colors—I wouldn't recognize any of those. But that gun... that gun was hardwired into my memory.

I remembered its weight, recalled its glinting among the grass and letting it fall to the ground.

That was Drew's gun—the one I'd used to kill her.

I'd dropped it and run to Nate, never thinking twice about it. We never went back there. It was in the middle of nowhere, no one would find her.

Swallowing, I breathed, “How did you find that?”

He sighed, “We were chasing after you. Every place you went, we did, too. Even if we arrived after the party.” Those words made me sick—killing someone, anyone, was wrong. Even in self-defense. He made it sound like fun. “Our father was cautionary. He liked being one step ahead every time. I thought it was insane, that he was paranoid...” he dug around his jacket, then, a screen flashed my eyes—getting blinking out of the way, I cried out.

I'd hallucinated about Drew, I'd seen her hanging around as a reminder of my crime... but that... that was even sicker.

“He said we should keep the body preserved, in case you needed persuasion handing over the flash drive. He figured he could blackmail you; either you went to jail or handed the evidence.” He turned the phone towards himself, regarding the image.

Drew was a block of ice.

“There are only two set of prints on this.” He shook the bag. I glared at the weapon that had saved me—now it could be my undoing. “Yours and hers. The bullets are still inside her. They match.” He tucked the evidence-bag away. “If I were you I'd rather not explain why you had to kill her—even if it was self-defense. How would you tell the police the truth without ratting out Nathaniel? And Aric? He helped you get to Drew.”

Temper flaring I gritted my teeth, “Fine. You have us cornered. Congrats.” By now, I'd do anything for him to leave, feeling tears pricking angrily.

I'd been careless. I should've disposed of the gun, of the body. But Nate... he'd been there so hurt, starved and scared—I never imagined in a million years that this could happen.

I must've been an evil-overlord in my last life. My karma sucked.

“Yes, yes I do.” Nolan crouched one more time, elbows on his knees. “And that's what I want you to remind your dear lover when I hand you back. I can end both your lives—not just his.”

In a swift movement, he was on his feet walking to the door. I willed him to keep walking, to just leave, I preferred to be with Logan than with him. Thinking about how Nate's life was completely screwed—our life.

But I just had to know one more thing.

“What makes you think Aric will collaborate?”

After everything, I considered Aric a friend, a brother. I just didn't think he'd risk his neck like that. Not when every law enforcement was on the lookout for someone or something Order related. It was hunting season and they were the hunt.

Nolan paused, shoulders stiff. He glanced over his shoulder.

“Our big brother might be lots of things,” he mocked. “But he's not stupid. He knows better than to double-cross me. He knows the consequences.”

That didn't tell me anything. What was he talking about? Had he done something like this to Aric before? I knew from the brief interaction they had, that they hated each other—with a capital H.

“Logan,” Nolan addressed the younger boy for the first time. He stood tall, like a sentinel. “I wouldn't want my sister to think I'm not hospitable.” He threw a twisted smile. “Fire up the furnace.” My eyes widened.

Even Logan's gray eyes darted between us, his mouth gaping.

“But I thought you said—”

“I lied,” he laughed clapping a hand on Logan's shoulder. “Heat up the chains and put them around her wrists.” Throwing one last disdainful glare, Nolan said, “Next time you wound someone, make sure they're dead.” To Logan he whispered, “Don't stop until her wrists are bleeding and she's begging.”

He left.

Logan's eyes were carved on the door. I inhaled sharply when our gazes crossed.

“Please...” I shook my head.

He looked to the floor. Coward. Logan stepped to furnace, near it, dry chopped logs were ready. I watched with fear as he put one after another, I tugged on the chains mercilessly. My legs pushed, so I tried to get up—my hands felt slick with blood when I tried to slip them out. The chains broke the skin, blood dripped, my bones screamed with protest.

I couldn't get away, though.

There was a Zippo lighter chink—a flame igniting.

The flames were quick to pick up, licking at the wood—thanks to the gasoline Logan had coated them with, once they were all in.

I closed my eyes, leaning away as much as possible. My breathing became fast.

I thought of Nate. He wasn't here. I was alone. He wasn't going charge through the door and save me, not this time.

This time, there was no one.

As the minutes flew, my hands felt the heat rising. I was wearing clothes, it would take more degrees to hurt—my hands were exposed, bleeding and vulnerable.

And just the searing pain in them made cry out.

The chains came off, I propelled forward. I winced bringing my wrists to my face—they were already bloody.

“The door's locked from the outside.” Logan called, when I eyed it. “Don't make this harder than it has to be.”

“You... you think I'm just going to let you slap some burning chains around my wrists?” a giggle bubbled in a hysteric. “You're nuts.”

But what was I supposed to do? I could barely move. I could try and knock out Logan, search for the key, unlock the door and what? There were people outside guarding the halls. Plus, I had no idea where I was. Even if I got away, Nolan still had evidence in his power. He could threaten Nate with that gun and Drew's frozen body, but he could also threaten me with Nate's... many kills.

I was trapped. This once, there wasn't a way out.

The chains were turning incandescent. Slightly orange, that wasn't good. I'd kill for heat resistant gloves, like the ones Logan was wearing. He kept turning them over, like a blacksmith, making sure they were good and ready.

All I could do, was wait and hope... hope that it wouldn't take long for the pain to claim me.