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font-size: 13px;">His eyes swept the facades of the buildings as he forcefully directed her down York street. He doubted that The Black River would’ve invested in a safe house if CCTV cameras dotted the route, unless they had hijacked them or they were non-operational. Even if they were feeding footage back to the authorities, it was something he decided to take his chances on, dealing with the aftermath at a later stage. The night hadn’t played out they way he’d wanted it to — what was one more bit of cleanup?<br/>
<br/>
“Shut the fuck up,” Ryke growled. God, she didn’t stop <i>talking. </i>Or rather, didn’t stop attempting to negotiate with him. The words slipped into one ear and straight out the other, her pleas barely registering in his thoughts. One hand loosened across her shoulder, diving into the pocket of his coat. He fumbled in the depths of the pockets before retrieving a black strip of material and two cable ties. Yanking it out, Ryke’s other hand on the back of her neck tightened considerably, his feet planting and forcing her to halt with him. <br/>
<br/>
He didn’t verbally direct her, but his hands forcefully reached for her wrists to gather them behind her back. There, he fastened a cable tie around her wrist, them snapped the other around just above the initial tie. The tightening of the cable tie visibly hugged her wrists, pinched at the delicate skin as it burrowed into her soft flesh. Thankfully, Ryke always kept a basic kit of essentials on him on the odd occasion a killing was to go wrong or surprises were thrown in his direction — such as the one he currently found himself in. After securing her hands behind her back, he lifted the black shred of material and placed it over her eyes, mimicking a blindfold as he tied it at the crown of her head securely. In the odd event he decided to release her and allow her to live, she didn’t need to recognise the location they were going to. <br/>
<br/>
“Look, sweetheart. No amount of bargaining will force me to release you. Unfortunately, you were in the wrong place, at the wrong time. And for that, you’ll have to reap the consequences,” Ryke murmured menacingly, before prodding a firm hand against her lower back and forced her to march forward once again. The bitterness that shadowed his tone was unmistakable. Her interference and presence had become nothing but a burden. <i>His </i>burden, until he decided on her fate and the mode of action he was to take. <br/>
<br/>
Ryke guided her down the street, before weaving through several back alleys until they arrived at the destination after a brief walk. Forcing her to halt at a back gate that lead into a quaint yard, he reached over her shoulder to unlatch the gate before ploughing her through dominantly. The gate shut behind them with a soft click and a brief rattle before he escorted her towards what visually appeared to be a garden sheet tucked in the back corner of the yard. The pavement beneath his feet was slippery after the decent downpour of rain and though he wasn’t particularly interested in the young police officer’s safety, his grip over her bound wrists tightened to aid in securing her steps.<br/>
<br/>
Upon approaching the garden shed, Ryke once again forced her to a halt while he drove his fingers into a pot plant beside the sheet metal structure. Massaging through the soil and root system of the plant, his fingers quickly connected with the cool, firm set of keys that’d been wedged deep into the pot. Yanking them out, he wiped the dirt over his pants before jamming the key into the padlock and twisting. An audible click permeated the air as it unlocked and the door swung open. <br/>
<br/>
“Step inside,” Ryke ordered, warning her of the small step before her feet. As they stepped inside together, he turned to close the door, locking it behind him. The grasp over her wrists subsided as he shuffled forward to slide a metal cabinet into the centre of the shed, which was thankfully on wheels. There was no where for her to run and barely any room for her to move within the confines of the small space, though his peripherals strained to focus on the police officer as he made haste to move the workshop furniture. The keys jingled in his palm once more as he crouched to fiddle with the keys, connecting them into a second padlock that was settled on top of a trap door that’d been revealed with the reshuffling of the cabinet.<br/>
<br/>
The door groaned as he wrenched it open before returning to his designated place behind the woman, steering her towards the gaping entrance. “A flight of stairs, keep walking down,” he muttered, forcing her to descend into the darkness. The air below smelt of dust and oak. The property was owned by The Black River’s leader’s mother. For safety and traceability reasons, her name had been changed to an alias upon purchase of the property. It had been a strategic purchase — a beautiful cottage at the front and old wine cellar beneath the garden shed they’d erected. However, the old wine cellar had proven multiple times to be the <i>perfect </i>place to take hostages — for torture, for capture, discreet killings and shady dealings. <br/>
<br/>
As they reached the bottom, he flipped on the light switch and dragged the woman towards a chair in the centre of the room. His fingers plucked at the blindfold that shielded her vision as he wandered casually towards another chair that faced hers, a couple of feet away. Blood stains painted the ground in erratic splatters, burgundy in colour. Old blood they hadn’t washed off the pavement. Keeping things tidy wasn’t exactly a priority of The Black River.<br/>
<br/>
Ryke slipped the hood from his head, revealing his features before a hand dragged through the sandy brown tresses upon his head. Sage green eyes were still bloodshot from the earlier assault. For the first time, his eyes lifted to study her under the brightness of the downcast artificial lights. She was young — pretty. In her twenties, he would have guessed with milky blonde hair and an interesting display of heterochromia throughout her hues. The right side of her face had already began to shift to an unsettling shade of purple from his earlier direction of smacking her against the wall.<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t bother screaming, it’s soundproof in here,” Ryke waved a hand, appearing almost tired as he lazily watched her. “The doors are locked, there aren’t any windows here and,” he retrieved his personal phone from his pocket and allowed the screen to light up briefly. His lock screen was patterned in camouflage colours, “No reception.”<br/>
<br/>
Narrowing his eyes, he lazily leant back on the chair, the uneven legs causing it to rock as he tilted his position, “Now to decide what I’m going to do with you.”<br/>
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