What did it feel like?
Jane stared hard at her abductor, taking him in with adult eyes, sadly the same eyes that had deceived her only yesterday.
Go on! the man touted. Tell me what it feels like to have blood on your hands. He ripped the gag from her mouth, smiled, and waited anxiously for an answer. Did you enjoy killing Richard?
Jane spat on Matthew Onger’s face. The sound of metal on bone reached her before the excruciating pain in her left knee did. She screamed and passed out, still hanging by her wrists.
Amused, Onger walked to the stairs that lead him up and out of the bunker. He was enjoying all of this much more than he’d anticipated. He had renewed his power over the only one who had ever escaped him, the one he had once feared might be his downfall. But he felt safe now. It had been a dumb bit of luck that had forced him north to fill up on gas this afternoon, spotting her bike across the road.
Now that the wanted woman was in his possession, Matthew Onger had nothing to fear. She was his once again . . .