𝑆𝐴𝑁𝑇𝐴 𝐶𝐿𝐴𝑈𝑆 𝐼𝑆 𝐶𝑂𝑀𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝑇𝑂 𝑇𝑂𝑊𝑁 ˖ ݁ ✧ ݁ ˖ ʀᴇᴠᴇʀɪᴇ & ᴅʀ ʙᴇʟʟᴡʀɪɢʜᴛ ❪ ⁿ ˢ ᶠ ʷ ❫

[reverie.]

ᴀ  ꜱ ᴇ ᴀ ꜱ ᴏ ɴ ᴀ ʟ  ʀ ᴏ ʟ ᴇ ᴘ ʟ ᴀ ʏ  ʙ ʏ  ʀ ᴇ ᴠ ᴇ ʀ ɪ ᴇ .  ᴀ ɴ ᴅ  ᴅ ʀ  ʙ ᴇ ʟ ʟ ᴡ ʀ ɪ ɢ ʜ ᴛ   ​

 

[reverie.]

Nora Haywood had expected her dad to cancel their Christmas plans when he had to work, but to her utter surprise, he invited her. He even promised her a separate room, one that turned out to be rather sweet. She hadn't been thrilled about the idea of celebrating Christmas at a small hotel in the middle of nowhere, but at least she'd get to spend some quality time with her dad—at least she thought she would. She barely saw her dad—when she did, he was never alone—and when she finally got a chance to confront him about it, he promised to take her to dinner. He just forgot to mention that it was a business dinner. Nora had barely arrived at the table when her dad's boss—who she decided was a big jerk—sent her away. "I'm sorry, honey," her dad said before taking a seat. She hadn't said anything back, just given the boss a cold stare before turning on her heel and walking back out. It wasn't like there was a lot to do there despite the size of the building. Most of the rooms were empty, boring or locked, and the few places actually worth exploring were so far away she'd need to borrow a car to get there. A cab might have worked too, but her dad would probably kill her if she left the hotel. So, instead, she found herself heading upstairs to her room. At least she had her laptop and her phone. The phone she'd managed to snap photos of the guns that had arrived earlier that day. Guns she's pretty sure she wasn't supposed to see, and guns her father had no idea was there. She hadn't had a chance to ask him about it earlier, and now his colleagues had stripped her of another opportunity to ask. After finding a comfortable position on the bed, she scrolled through the few photos she'd taken—five of the crates, two of the guns inside. They had looked real, but before she'd had a chance to look at them closer, a tall guy had yelled at her to get the fuck away from them. Nora hadn't stuck around after that. But now, looking through the photos, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. Her dad was an accountant; why would there be guns involved? Nora had just zoomed in on the gun when there was a knock on her door. She looked up, "just a minute!" She placed the phone on the bedside table, making sure to lock the screen before she got up. A part of her was almost confident it was her dad coming to apologize, so the look of surprise on her face was unmistakable when she saw it was the asshole who had just dismissed her from the table. She leaned against the doorframe, her gaze locked on his face. Why did he have to be so handsome? "Changed your mind?" she asked, her tone cold as ice. ​

 

[Dr Bellwright]

Radomir Radić sat at the head of the massive mahogany table, which currently held sixteen people. A copious amount of meat, salads, and, of course, alcohol, ranging from wine to vodka and cognac, decorated the table. Today was supposed to be the celebration of a successful operation that his squad accomplished. Just over four months of planning and implementation, and while most people might assume that celebration was not the part of the operation or success. Now retired Colonel Radić believed, no, he knew that morale is the single most important thing. Decades of combat, first as a soldier in the Balkans and then as a mercenary across the killing fields of Central Africa and Southeast Asia, had taught him an immutable truth: when bullets run dry and supplies dwindle, morale becomes the only currency worth trading. And celebration at the same table with his team was one of the rituals a leader had to uphold. And yet, right now, his mind was somewhere else. Unbeknownst to him, his mind raced to find a reason to handle a different kind of problem. Instead of thinking about the speech, he was thinking about the talk, the talk he would have with a girl upstairs. She shouldn't have been here in the first place, a strange sequence of events. His eyes quickly darted at Henry, their money man. Ex-accountant and auditor from Big Four, now their professional money launderer, who was probably going through some kind of identity crisis or similar shit, that led him to succumb to his daughter's whim and take her on a business trip. He would have to talk to him too. But judging by the way Henry was avoiding Rad's eyes, the money man was already regretting a lot of decisions he made in the past couple of days. He'd let him stew in his own anxiety, doubt, and guilt for a night. Tonight he will, however, deal with the young adult. “What?” Radomir's head jerked to the right, where Slava, his second in command, was trying to get his attention. “Vrijeme je za zdravicu boss” he said, and looked at Radomir with his distinct ‘all is good, boss?’ look. “Yes,” Radomir said, turning back to Slava. “Stand up.” His command voice - the one reserved for moments outside combat - carried its familiar weight as he rose from his seat. He knew Slava would comply; everyone always did. “Today. Slava is graduating.” Rad started; his hand landed heavily on the man's shoulder. “I have to take care of some things.” Radomis said, and as he said it, he avoided looking at Henry. “Slava will open the table with a speech.” Radomir said, and his squad exploded in boasts, cheers, and outright taunts directed at the newly promoted soldier as Radomir left without a second look at the table. “No,” Radomir answered; there was no need for him to add anything to the answer. He could not help but let his eyes traverse along Nora's lithe body, and then, without an invitation, he simply stepped into the young woman's room. His shoulder brushing against her body. Eyes inspected the room intently and quickly landed on her phone. Phone was the reason he was here. Discipline and removing the evidence from the blasted American spy devices. The man dressed in a black suit slowly turned his head back at Nora. “Close the door.” He told her, with a thick accent, “Unlock your phone.” He added, and then did something he wasn't used to. He waited for the girl to comply with his express instruction. And to his surprise, she did not do so. And while most of his consciousness was quite annoyed with a little brat, something in his mind was quite excited about her demeanour, something primal, something belonging to a hunter who loves the challenge. And this something guided the corners of his lips upwards. He walked back to the girl, rested his hand right above Nora's hand on the door, and forced it shut. “Phone. Unlock. Now.” Radomir spoke slowly, in a calm tone that, however, conveyed all the urgency. A predatory glint flickered in his eyes, anticipating her rebellion. When he saw that she didn't move he simply smiled at her and started walking towards the bedside table. ​

 

[reverie.]

Nora didn't know what she had expected, but it was not him invading her personal space—not to mention her privacy—like that. He basically shoved her out of the way, forcing her to step aside to leave enough room for him to enter through the door opening. She was still wearing the dress she'd worn for dinner, but her heels stood by the bed. Without them, she felt miniscule next to him. She watched him enter the room, following his every move while still clutching the door as if she were ready to leave if need be. Ironic, wasn't it? Being kicked out of your own hotel room by a handsome stranger. Her sour expression didn't change when he started giving her orders, but her pulse quickened significantly. Closing the door was not an option right now, not if he wanted her to remain on this side of it. And there was no way in hell she was going to unlock her phone for him. Her eyes wandered from him to her phone on the bedside table and back to him. She looked puzzled for a second as if her brain was still analyzing his words. "What? No," she said, but she didn't sound very convincing. "I'm not—" Her voice trailed off when he started walking back towards her. Her body was screaming at her to leave, to get the fuck out of there, but she couldn't move. Nora stood frozen, watching—breathing—as he closed the door with his right hand, trapping her inside the room with him. She swallowed hard, tilting her head slightly back in order to meet his gaze. He didn't look particularly friendly. Or patient for that matter. Her voice was low and shaky when she finally found the courage to speak. "I'm not gonna let you go through my phone." The photos she'd taken of the guns and crates were the least of her worries. She didn't want him to see the half-naked selfies she'd taken of herself earlier or the messages she'd exchanged with a guy she'd met online a few weeks ago. His smile sent cold shivers down her spine, but it wasn't until he turned his back on her that she was able to move. Two steps he'd taken towards the bedside table before she hurried past him to grab her phone before he could. She quickly hid it behind her back. "I'm serious," she said, trying to sound more confident. Nora obviously didn't know who she was talking to. "I'm not letting you go through my phone." ​

 

[Dr Bellwright]

The girl's words sounded like an attempt at a threat. Not a very good attempt, but it didn't matter. Radomir's body was reacting instinctively towards somebody who tried to intimidate him; he took a step forward toward the person who dared to challenge his authority. The reflexes didn't care that the challenger was a girl, a good half meter shorter than he was. His eyes were locked on her with intent, and the tip of his tongue slowly moved along the upper row of his teeth as he realised that he didn't know what to do in this situation. There were a lot of people who hated him. A lot of people who challenged him, a lot of people who wanted to kill him. But all those people had a lot of guns, money, or both. This one had nothing, which was both confusing and amusing. He didn't even notice that by now he was towering over the girl, uncomfortably close to her, almost pressing her against the wall with a smile on his face. Radomir noticed his reflection in one of the Christmas baubles, and he saw how his lips stretched in a cold serpentine curve. He wiped it off his face with a slow movement of his jaw, opening it with a barely audible click of somebody who got his face rearranged a few times throughout his "career." The girl is the daughter of somebody who is in your squad.Sure, Henry was no combatant, but he was his money man, and he would probably go to prison before any of the mercs would. “I'm trying to be diplomatic here–” he said, his accent growing a little thicker now that his mind was looking for a non-violent solution. Or less violent than usual “–and you are being stubborn.” Radomir pursed his lips with the last word and looked into Nora's left and then the right eye. Radomir met a lot of women in his life, but they really fell into one of four categories. Prostitutes, women who wanted a fun weekend on an expensive yacht, women who were delusional enough that they could change him, and daughters and wives of people who died because of him. Nora didn't fit into any of the categories. “I'm going to speak plainly.” He finally said. He moved his hand between their bodies and nudged the young woman towards the wall, gently. Or what he considered to be a gentle nudge, making up space between them. With the same hand, he reached under his blazer and pulled a gun. “This is a Glock,” Radomir said, holding a gun carefully between them, right below her eyeline. He passed the gun from one hand to another and reached for the silencer. “Glock 17, fourth generation, our best seller.” He added and then proceeded to screw the silencer on. The add-on was unnecessary, yet he knew how a man looks when one is slowly putting a silencer on a gun. “I will not hurt you more than required. Your life is not being threatened. But I will need that phone.” Radomir said and tilted the gun so that the cold metal of the black bar of the silencer pressed against the girl's cheek. Her attention was obviously glued to the gun, so he used his other hand to place two fingers under her chin and tilt her head up. “We deal with guns, and we provide protection to dangerous people. Your dad should have told you. Your dad is laundering money for us.” His hand dropped from her chin, now that he had her attention. His fingers dragged along the fabric of her black dress along the side until he reached the ruffled skirt. “This enables you to wear dresses that surpass the cost of a car.” ​

 

[reverie.]

This man was fucking intimidating, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he was towering over her—okay, maybe a little, but that was beside the point. Nora could tell it would be foolish to pick a fight with him, but it would be just as foolish to hand over her phone when it contained so many secrets. She wanted to speak the words back to him, trying to be diplomatic, her ass. And she was being stubborn? His words didn't exactly make her loosen the grip on her phone. The brunette held his gaze, trying not to flinch but her pulse increased every second. Nora swallowed hard when her back hit the wall, but her expression looked more annoyed than afraid. "Please do," she muttered under her breath. She didn't know what she had expected from a guy like him, but for some stupid reason, it was not this. Fear washed over her when he pulled out a gun, her eyes widening as she studied it—definitely real. Her lips pressed together in a fine line, the words that had been on her tongue long gone. She watched intensely as he screwed the silencer on, her mind going over all the worst-case scenarios. Was he going to shoot her? Was she about to die? No, that would be ridiculous. And for what? For not giving him her phone? "I already—" The rest of her words died when he pressed the silencer against her cheek. A flash of panic could be seen in her eyes, her chest heaving. It wouldn't surprise her if he could her hear heart drumming in her chest. She stood frozen while he tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his dark gaze. What he said wasn't comforting at all. Her dad knew about this? That didn't sound right. "My dad is an accountant," she said in a low voice, convincing herself that he must be lying. "He's not a criminal." Although, now that she thought about it, her dad hadn't exactly told her a lot of details about his job or this particular business trip. Perhaps he'd hoped he wouldn't need to. If it wasn't for the guns she'd stumbled across earlier, she wouldn't even have known something was off. Up until she saw the guns, her only concern had been her dad's lack of time for her—and she couldn't blame him. But he was the one who had brought her along on this trip, and if she were to guess, he hadn't asked anyone for permission to do so. She kept her eyes on his, trying not to pay attention to the fingers he was dragging along her dress or the gun still pressing against her cheek. It was a lovely dress, it truly was, but more expensive than a car? She doubted it. Nora wouldn't wear something that expensive. . . would she? "This was cheap," she lied. Her dad had paid for that dress. She'd tried on several before her birthday a few months ago and she hadn't been able to decide between this and another one, so he'd let her get both. There hadn't been a price tag on them, and she hadn't asked. They'd always been well off, but her dad wasn't that rich. "What do you need to my phone for? Don't you have your own?" she asked carefully, well aware that if she tried any funny business he'd probably put a bullet through her skull.​

 

[Dr Bellwright]

Radomir did not even notice the satisfied smile on his face as he listened to the girl try and quip at him. He almost chuckled when she asked him if he had a phone of his own, the hand that held the gun tightened just a bit, and he pressed the metal into the girl's cheek and dragged it until the chamfered edge of the elongated silenced barrel was just over a centimetre away from her mouth. "Do I have a phone? Are you trying to be—” Radomir went silent as he rummaged through his mind to find an appropriate word; his accent changed for the next part of the sentence as he tried to imitate something more upscale. "–snarky with me little one?" His cold dark eyes locked on hers as he mocked her question. There was no doubt that if he wanted to, he could just take the damn phone. He stood uncomfortably and rather inappropriately close to her, with their bodies almost touching and their clothes exchanging the static charge. By now Radomir had a pretty clear idea of where this "conversation" would go. He entered the room with the goal of taking the phone from her, but then the goal changed. as she opposed him, he wanted to teach her a lesson, he wanted her to give the phone to him. Now. Now he didn't care all that much about the phone. He would break the damn spy device after he was done breaking the girl. The hand on her skirt clenched and then relaxed as he started to bunch up the fabric in his fist, deliberately raising the hemline of her dress towards the midthigh. All this happened in silence, as he let his eyes rest on hers, reading her reaction to having a towering criminal slowly lift her skirt and then push his knee between her thighs. He could feel the trepidation, confusion, and, on top of that, the sweet, sweet conflict that was flooding the girl's mind. There was, of course, fear, but fear was obvious, and something told him that fear was not the dominant emotion in the girl's mind at this very moment. He inhaled and slid the gun the rest of its way, until the military-grade steel touched her lips, just a little off-centre. "Open your mouth, girl." He told her and softly pressed the silencer. He commanded her, with a voice that sounded both gentle and firm at the same time. And at this moment, he felt a tingle of conflict himself. Because he was not sure which outcome he would prefer. For her to comply or for her to rebel further. ​

 

[reverie.]

Fear radiated from Nora's eyes as he pressed the metal into her cheek and dragged it towards her lips. If the gun hadn't been glued to her face, she would have shaken her head to answer him, but instead, she gritted out a quiet, "No." She was not trying to be anything, let alone snarky. The young woman did not have a death wish—at least not quite yet—so the least she would do was piss him off further. She could already tell she was testing his patience. But what exactly was so important on her phone? Why did he need it? If he'd only tell her, she could fix it herself, without giving him access to all of her secrets. Her eyes didn't leave him, but she could feel him pulling her dress up. Too terrified to tell him to stop, she let him expose her thighs. She cowered under his stare, her body frozen as he pushed his knee between her thighs and forced them to spread. A new form of panic filled her body as she tried to close her legs again, only to press them against his knee. With one hand still clutching the phone half behind her back, the other one didn't get much leverage on him. That didn't stop her from trying to push his leg away. "Please," she whispered, her eyes wide with fear of what he was planning. Now that her legs were spread, other parts of her body were suddenly very. . . exposed. At least she was wearing her new underwear—not that he needed to see that. But he didn't do what she thought he would. No, he surprised her by placing the cold metal against her lips, telling her to open. Breathing heavily, she didn't move. Nora just blinked up at him as if she was having trouble understanding his command. How long did she keep her lips sealed? Three seconds? Five? Ten? She wanted to tell him no, but that would require her to open her mouth. So, she did what anyone else would do—she shook her head, very carefully. There was no way she was letting him put a gun in her mouth. If he had wanted to put a bullet in her head, he would have done so already. He was just trying to scare her, and he must be blind if he couldn't see it was working. Nora was terrified. ​

 

[Dr Bellwright]

A faint smirk tugged on Radomir's lips as he exhaled through the nose. The girl said, "No," and now she was shaking her pretty head, with the barrel of the gun glued to her pretty lips. For a man with morals as twisted as his own, this was exactly what he hoped for. Hearing and seeing her decline his "advance" was as sweet as honey. It was how the universe told him "yes.". A man who was born in a war-torn Balkans, a man who grew up in a literal warzone, never had an opportunity to learn that people might just give something to him. He had to always take things. The only variable was how much violence he had to apply. He chuckled again and then relaxed the hand that held the gun. But only slightly. The sharp edge of the silencer, which was no longer cold to the touch, now that it absorbed the heat from Nora's lips,, slowly dropped to her chin and then was dragged down, across her neck and towards her chest. Before she could react, Radomir leaned in and pressed his forehead against hers. The gesture was almost gentle, if not for the fact that he used it to press her head against the wall. With their faces next to each other, he could feel her reactions vividly. He was quite sure that she could hear the drums of her heart in her ears. He could feel her burn with fear. The gun stopped when the barrel pressed and tugged against the fabric of her dress, as it dipped between her breasts. “You could scream, of course,” Rad's voice was casual and matter-of-fact as he yanked her dress up and pulled a gun back a little to let it traverse the rest of the way down over her dress. “In a way, I'd love hearing you scream, but that would complicate things." The gun moved across her abdomen, and then she lost a sensation of it for a moment when Radomir had to face the laws of physics. The bunched-up dress was too thick for him to maintain the contact. He pushed his knee from side to side; right when the metal touched Nora's mound, the warm metal pushed against her sensitive skin with nothing but thin panties separating the two. “Your dad would hear you, and he would run, but my men would quickly apprehend him, and then he would be forced.” The gun travelled further down until he felt the bump of her clitoral hood. “And then he would be forced to listen. To listen through that thin door how I take you.” Now that the gun was right where he wanted it, the hand that held her dress let it go and moved upwards. “Over and over again.” His thick, hungry, and callous fingers wrapped around her neck right when he pushed the gun between her thighs. But then released it immediately, as if he was taunting her to try and scream. “Or maybe you are looking forward to it." ​

 

[reverie.]

Nora didn't move as he traced the silencer down her neck and chest. She stood frozen, her lips sealed as if she was afraid he'd push it into her as soon as she parted them. Too focused on the sensation of having the gun dragged across her skin, she didn't realize his face was closing in before the back of her head hit the wall behind her and his forehead was glued to hers. He was way too close now; so close she had trouble focusing on his face. He dipped the silencer between her breasts and she inhaled sharply through her nose. Her chest heaved as he spoke, each word making her heart beat faster. Screaming would require her to open her mouth, and the lingering threat of him forcing the gun down her throat was the only thing stopping her from doing it. Because all her instincts were telling her to scream—to fucking run. Not that she would get far, not when he could shoot her down. Which he probably would, if she tried to escape. So, she didn't try anything. Instead, she swallowed hard as he yanked her dress up and slid the gun over her toned stomach, over the fabric of her dress, and towards—"Stop," she said, panic written all over her face. Still clutching her phone with one hand, she only had the other to try to stop him with, and that didn't really do much. She grabbed his wrist, but that didn't stop him from pressing the silencer against her panties—against her pussy. Desperately she tried to close her legs, only for her thighs to hug his knee. "Please. . . stop!" Her fingertips dug into his arm as she tried to prevent him from moving the gun. Right now, her dad was the least of her worries. A whimper escaped her lips the moment the nuzzle touched her sensitive bud through the fabric. In no way did it hurt, but man was it terrifying. "Please stop," she whispered, her eyes wide as she tried to wriggle herself free from him. But she had nothing to defend herself with when he wrapped his fingers around her throat—nothing except the hand that was wrapped around his wrist to prevent him from fucking her with the silencer. And that was not moving, not when she could feel the metal between her legs, pressing against her sex. She wanted to scream, but all that came out of her mouth were pleas and whimpers. She wasn't worried about her dad hearing her scream, because she would do no such thing. What she was worried about was him and whether or not he was planning on sticking that gun into her, or if he was just trying to prove a point. She sure as hell was looking forward to any of it. She also didn't believe he would take her, especially not when—"Here." She slammed her phone against his chest. "You can have it." The photos she had taken of herself were not worth dying over. Whatever game they were playing, he had just won. ​