I was lying on a cold metal surface.
My head felt light, my neck stiff—courtesy of the masked psycho who thought knocking me out was acceptable conversation.
"Ladies and gentlemen…"
Raven.
My heart slammed hard against my ribs.
Bulldozers. That voice. That arrogant calm pretending to be mercy.
I dragged my hand away from my forehead and forced my blurry vision upward to the massive screens lining the wall.
There he was.
Standing tall. Controlled. Dangerous.
Claiming he wasn't here to hurt anyone—while standing ankle-deep in red mash that definitely wasn't paint.
"…just give me my Chibi back."
His voice shifted completely.
The sharpness. The possession. The threat dressed as affection.
Damn it.
Emotional manipulation at its finest, kitten.
I tried to sit up, dizziness crashing over me. My lungs burned slightly—oxygen deprivation still clinging from earlier.
"Where do you think you're going?"
The masked man's voice was cold, but panic cracked through it like a fracture beneath glass.
"To have a conversation with that madman," I snapped.
He grabbed my wrist, fingers digging in hard, trying to drag me back.
"I never allowed—"
My fist connected with his face before he could finish the sentence.
Bone met knuckles.
Satisfaction bloomed.
"I'm not in the mood to take orders right now."
The control room froze.
Every single one of his people stood stunned, like statues—momentarily forgetting their job was to protect their boss from being publicly assaulted.
The masked man staggered back, clutching his face, groaning.
One guard rushed me from the front.
Kitten always said the head is the weakest point.
My nails raked down his face, tearing skin, drawing blood. Another man moved in—too slow. I kicked upward, hard, right between his legs.
He collapsed with a choked sound.
"DON'T."
My voice rang sharp and absolute.
A warning to everyone in that room.
They froze.
Even the masked man stared at me now—eyes widened, breathing uneven.
That was when someone took advantage of my distraction.
Hands grabbed me from behind. Tape snapped tight around my arms. Another pair forced me down into a wheelchair.
I fought—kicked, thrashed, landed two solid hits—but they overwhelmed me.
My wrists were bound to the armrests.
My ankles restrained.
Tape sealed my mouth, stealing my voice.
"Mmmhh—!"
Rage burned hot behind my eyes as they pushed me forward.
If Raven could see me now—
Good.
Let him see exactly what kind of mess he walked into.