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2025-12-12 22:42:48
Latest chapter
The Bad Gentleman 9.
Hannah I’m out of breath. I’m out of breath because I’m sprinting down the hallway, following behind Mr. Green-eyes but his long legs create more distance between us, and he doesn’t care that I’m running behind him, or that I’m out of breath.I don’t stop, and neither does he. After turns and stairs, then an elevator down, we finally arrive at the emergency ward. Panting, I bend over, one had one the wall, one hand on my waist, trying to catch my breath. Then I raise my head, giving the room a quick glance. The steady beeping of the machines attached to Giorgio signifies he must’ve had a good night, which makes my stomach dance. Another quick glance and I see my tote bag on the counter top, just above the cabinet I found those drugs last night. I clear my throat and stand straight, bringing my attention to Mr. Green eyes, who strangely enough is already watching me.A rush of awareness run from my nape down to the length of my spine. This man saw me naked. Regardless of whatever he
The Bad Gentleman 8.
Hannah I shouldn’t have taken those Xanax pills. Is my first thought when I open my eyes to complete whiteness. “Am I in heaven?” I question, but my voice doesn’t echo, and I don’t get a response back, other than the chirping of birds in a distance. Blinking, the whiteness takes form into a white ceiling, white walls, white curtains and white windows, like something out of a psychological horror movie. Heck, even the duvet covering my body is white, but the real horror however, is the glaring question in my head: Where the hell is this, and how on earth did I get here? In complete, utter shock, I peel the duvet from my body in an attempt to investigate the room, only to get the biggest shock of my life. The clothes I remember wearing, the ones I remember sleeping in, dirty from all the dragging around and blood, were nowhere to be found, and in its place was a black dress shirt at least two times my size, evidence it’s not mine. Not even my bra and panties were spared. My st
The Bad Gentleman 7.
Christian "Put out your hands." I'm not usually a patient person, but during torture, I found out patience is my forte. I believe it stems from the fact that the criminal is under my mercy, and no matter how much time they waste, no matter how much they fight, their next breath is solely dependent on me.I peer down at the two fools, C and Marco, who almost cost me Giorgio tonight, with disgust, wondering when I started having sloppy dickheads around me."I don't have all day and I won't repeat myself. Put. Out. Your. Fucking. Hands."The torture room echoes with my voice and my irritation peaks.We've already been here for half an hour, and though the streaks of blood pouring from the side of their faces are proof I've been at this for a while, I'm barely satisfied. My bloodlust is hardly impressed by streaks from a head bash.C put his shaky hands out first, on the wooden slab right in front of both of them, taking a deep breath because he'd seen this scene too many times to know
The Bad Gentleman 6.
Christian Soft open-mouthed breaths fill my ears in a sweet song and I find I don’t mind it; if anything I like it, given it is as a result of fear.Her brown eyes are wide and searching, but there’s some anger in them. She looks like a wet cat in need of cleaning and petting, and I’m tempted to clean and pet her, but I don’t because I’m more interested in seeing how she plans to break free from me with that anger in her eyes. “You don't seem pleased with my proposal.” I point out, fishing into my pocket to pull out my cigarette pack and lighter.I peel my eyes from her, focusing my attention on lighting the stick.“I—”“I was told you were desperate to save Giorgio. Don’t you want to save him anymore?” I exhale.She sucks in a deep breath and coughs, fanning away the fumes from my cigarette, then turns to look at me.“I don’t think you should smoke in here,” she says. She doesn’t dare meet my eyes like she did that blessed Friday. In response, I suck in another bout of tobacco and
The Bad Gentleman 5.
Hannah The seductive scent of pine and whiskey fill my lungs, accompanied by dreadful footsteps I know are coming in my direction, but I fold my lips, lowering my head, just in case I'm not the object of focus. But just like I feel it in my guts, I'm not surprised when I feel his presence right in front of me. I am, however, shocked to my toenails when he peels the blindfold from my eyes and it seems I'm staring at the devil himself. My heart stops, and my limbs and arms are too weak to respond to me, but my mouth isn't. "It's you!" I blurt out, which I realize is the worst thing I could've done in such a situation. My body seems to understand the situation now and suddenly my arms move, slapping my bloodied, bound hands across my lips in shock and embarrassment at my own actions. Mr. Green-eyes, I confirm now, isn't someone who should be trifled with, and if his dark eyes and smile doesn't tell you that, then the way he's dressed; in a pair of black pants and a matching black d
The Bad Gentleman 4.
Hannah "Can you tell me once more what happened?" The paramedic asks. He's a tall older man, but he looks firm and dependable, so a summary of what just happened rolls off my tongue. However, my focus is on the injured man and the relief that I would get to keep my promise to him. "It doesn't seem like he's lost a lot of blood, but his pulse is weak, we need to get him in right now," the paramedic is saying, and I'm nodding while wondering what had happened out there, if the injured man had been in a fight, if whatever the altercation was, was worth pulling out a gun for. Different thoughts keep infiltrating my mind when a small tap on my shoulders startles me. "You zoned out there, but you have to come with us," he says, his eyes slightly narrowing in concern. I drag in a breath and nod. “Of course, I have to come. I work at St Marie,” I say to the man. He looks down at me, sarcasm blatant in his eyes. “You don’t say.” I narrow my eyes at him, holding my tongue because I have
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