Borden 2 (Borden 2)

“He told me what Mulligan is like,” I continued. “How sick he is. That he’ll most likely torture a person first. Don’t you think with Borden, somebody that’s killed this guy’s stepsons, he’d stretch it out and take his time?”

Though the thought terrified me, it also relieved me too. Because if Mulligan had him and he was doing that, it meant Borden was still breathing with me right now.

“Yeah,” Hawke mumbled, faintly. “I just honestly don’t know, Emma.”

I set my plate down. I was shaking everywhere. “I can’t live without him, Hawke. If he’s gone…I’m gone too.”

“If he’s gone, I’ll take care of you. I’ll make sure nobody ever touches you again, and I’ll bury Mulligan. I’ll fucking destroy that man until there’s nothing left of him, and you’ll be the one to put the last bullet in his head.”

Twenty

Borden

They grabbed him just outside the customs office. One bike on either side of his car, tapping on his window, gun pointed in his face. Touché, motherfuckers. The one time he was alone, the one time they would have had the tiniest opportunity to take him, and they did it. They fucking did it. It was done swiftly. He stepped out of his car and slid straight into another black Mercedes where he was given a glass of water in the backseat by another man that had a gun to his face.

“Drink it,” the young man had told him. “All of it.”

Borden sighed and stared down at the glass of water. Fucking hell, this day was never going to end.

“Poison?” he asked. “Might as well tell me, right?”

The young man hesitated but didn’t respond, not that Borden needed one. Of course it wasn’t poison. Mulligan wouldn’t take him down that fast. Borden took his time studying his surroundings, at the wanna-be tough guy in the front seat with a wavering gun to his face, and at the men that slowly began surrounding the car, offering him absolutely zero chance of escape.

“Alright,” Borden said, calmly. “I’ll fucking drink your shit, but I want you fucks to look at me very carefully as I do it. Look at the man that’s going to fucking kill you after I kill your boss first.”

He took a giant gulp of the powdery tasting shit and didn’t wait very long for the effects to start kicking in. In just minutes, his mind clouded and his eyes were harder to keep open. He shook his head, fighting against the inevitable. He knew he was losing control and that any second he would black out. It was only near the end he thought of Emma and how exposed she was without all his men at the club with her. His chest constricted at the thought of something happening to her.

Blinking rapidly, he angrily grabbed the shirt of the man in the front seat and pulled him closer. He stared at the young eyes of a delinquent no older than eighteen, and he saw the pool of fear that suddenly surfaced. The gun shook in the kid’s grip and the tip smacked against Borden’s forehead. Borden knew straight away the coward wouldn’t pull the trigger.

“You’re just a fucking kid,” Borden slurred.

Losing control of his movements, the glass fell from his other hand, and he reluctantly closed his eyes. The last thing he saw was the boy’s trembling lips.

*

He awoke to a bucket of ice cold water poured over his head. His eyes shot open, and he could hardly breathe as another bucket immediately soaked through him again. His entire body shuddered. It felt like a thousand daggers plunged into every surface area of his body, and no amount of twisting offered him peace. Men laughed and mocked him, one of them punched him across the face, remarking, “Who is the tough guy now, Borden?”

Borden’s body roared to life and he zeroed in on the face before him. “Is that really what you call a punch, you pussy little bitch? Try harder next time.”

The man’s expression dropped and he punched Borden again, harder than before. Borden felt a mild pain, but he laughed anyway. If these fucks thought they could break him, they were wrong. What was some cold water and a weak little fist going to do?

“You fucking idiot,” he laughed, tasting blood in his mouth.

The guy shook in anger and raised his fist again, but he didn’t punch him. He refrained, like something was stopping him. Instead, he spat at Borden and stomped out of the room with all the other guys. The heavy door shut harshly, and Borden was all alone. He shook his head at the residual cloudiness slowly going away and looked around the room. It was pitch black. He couldn’t see anything and he couldn’t move. He was bound to a chair in a dark, damp room, and as he struggled to break free, he realized it was futile. The fucks had cuffed him well.

With a long sigh, he said out loud, “Why don’t you just fucking show yourself? Hiding in shadows and playing games is starting to get old, Mulligan.”

There was a moment of silence before he heard something shuffle behind him. It was eerily close. Small footsteps rounded his chair, and then it was quiet again. Borden stared in the direction it was coming from, waiting. He could feel the man’s presence feet away.

“You know where you are?” said a deep voice. “You’re in a cellar right now in the middle of nowhere. You’re going to become very acquainted with this room, and you might even feel connected to the whore my boys killed. After all, this is where she took her last breaths.”

Kate. Borden tensed and his heart picked up.

“Nobody will hear your screams, Borden, except me. I’m going to take my time with you.”

The footsteps moved to the door and it opened. Borden squinted his eyes, staring at the tall, thick frame of Terry Mulligan in the dim light of the hallway.

“And,” the sick bastard added, turning his red bearded face to him, “as you reflect on the loss of your first whore, you shall mourn the loss of your second.”

He stepped out and the door shut again, leaving Borden in complete darkness.

*

He was left alone for hours. He tried pulling apart the cuffs, but they dug sharply into his wrists like knives. He didn’t mind the pain, but he couldn’t keep wasting his energy on an impossible task. He was completely immobile, and all he could do was try and relax his body.

If he couldn’t move, he would need to rest. Staying awake and stressing himself out would leave him drained by the time the feral shits returned. He shut his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest. His mind wandered, and he thought of Kate. She had been here, where he was. Had they tied her down too? But he didn’t remember seeing marks on her wrists. She’d been choked to death, the coroner had said.