Page 110 of Adam
And now we’re here.
His basement. A room built for screams, sweat, and panic, even if he never figured out what it was really for.
I look around, taking it in, almost fondly.
Yeah. He had the space. He just lacked the imagination.
I don’t.
Wes said Anderson wanted to give him money for Calvano. I guess that was the package I was supposed to receive, but none of it matters anymore.
I stroll up to him and prop the axe against the wall. Just a habit I picked up fromsomeonewho made my assassin days a whole lot more entertaining.
I drag the chair across the floor, slow enough that the scraping rattles his nerves, and take a seat ahead of him.
He’s trembling beneath the chains and fabric that covers his face.
I wait, just long enough for the fear to ferment and for the panic to decay into something exquisite. He’s starving for my next move, aching for it with the kind of desperation that only comes when all hope has been carved out.
“H-Hello?” he mumbles, his chest rattling faster.
I can taste it. The panic. The fear. The chemical terror. The desperate prayer to be saved by something that isn’t coming.
“I know you’re there,” he stutters.
A low, savoring-like growl vibrates in my throat. “Of course I’m here,” I murmur. “Where else would I be, now that you’re finally mine?”
He remains quiet—as much as he can at least. Funny how fragile people get when you press their mind instead of their skin.
“God, you’re more pathetic than I believed,” I say casually. “Isn’t it weird? You slither through someone’s mind for years and then, up close, you’re disappointingly … human. Without all the loyal dogs around you, you’re …” I let out a soft, crooked laugh. “Just a trembling piece of meat wrapped in panic.”
“Who are you?”
“About that …” I click my tongue. “I wanna play a little game.”
“W-what? Wha-at game?”
I lean forward. “Guess.”
“Guess what?”
My eyes roll back involuntarily. “Guess who I am, genius.”
“Jesus,” Wes rasps, lighting a smoke and leaning against the wall. “How long’s this gonna take? I don’t have all day.”
“Who else is here?” Leo snaps his head towards Wes.
“Just an amateur, don’t mind him,” I drawl, casting a lazy sidelong glance at Wes. “Leslie, darling, could you do me a favor and shut the fuck up so the adults can handle this?”
He flips me the bird, sucking his cigarette.
Leo shifts his posture. His shoe scrapes against the floor as if testing his limits, or whatever piteous idea he has. It’s so mortifying he thinks there’s still a way out of this.
My chair creaks as I lean back, hands folded, watching him twitch under the fabric.
“Don’t do that.” I kick his foot. “You’ll only embarrass yourself more than you already have.”
“L-Look, I have money,” he wails. “I have as much money as you want.”
