The guard remained asleep. He must be an underpaid extra.

It was the red-haired man, along with someone else who stood taller than him. He was equally, if not more, handsome than the redhead. Similar chiseled facial features, but there was a stronger intensity in this man’s expression. His hair was dark, but his eyes were the complete opposite, a gray that bordered on silver.

They definitely hired models. I would, too, if I had money to burn. Which I will when I sue all these bastards.

“Belmont, take him outside. I want to talk to her alone.”

Finally, someone willing to break character. I guess not everyone here is a method actor.

Belmont, the redhead, kicked the leaning chair, and the guard fell to the side, walking up only after his body had hit the ground. He said something in that strange tongue and then walked out. The guard brushing straw from his body. None of it budged.

The silver-eyed hunk opened the cell door and stood directly in front of me, his arms folded across his chest as he glared at me. He stared down as if expecting me to do or say something.

I rolled my eyes hard, so hard that I saw the inside of my brain. His glower grew deeper after I didn’t respond right away at his non-verbal question.

“The gag,” I finally gargled through the handkerchief, drool spilling out.

I saw the light briefly flicker in his eyes at the realization that I couldn’t speak, and then he bent over and, to my surprise, gently removed the gag.

“Finally,” I exclaimed as I opened and closed my jaw, releasing the tension. “Can you untie me now, too?” I leaned forward, showing him the rope around my wrists, but he did not move to remove it.

“So you can talk our language.” He said as he took a few steps back,“The others said you wouldn’t shut up, but they couldn’t understand a word of what it was you were spewing. You were so animated they thought you were cursing them.”

“You’re really going to keep this up?” Exasperated and frustrated were words that lacked how I currently felt.

If a gaze could kill, he would be a sharpshooter.

“Why are you here?”

“I don’t fucking know.” The last of my composure and sanity snapped. “I just woke up here, okay. Those bastards knocked me out, and then dragged me out here…I don’t even know where here is.”

“Who are they, these bastards you say brought you here?”

“Ugh, I don’t know exactly. It could be a number of people. Sebastien Howard, Xavier Polanco, Steven Miller, maybe.”

“And why would they come here?” he pressed.

Was he being serious?

“Because they are fucking losers who get off on exerting their power and cruelty. They believe the world is theirs for the taking.”

His brow furrowed deep. He was not happy with my answer. He took several menacing steps forward and lowered himself to meet my eyes.