Chapter Text
Prologue
“They want a video proof of life,” the woman grits when she gets off the phone. Her footsteps echo loudly on the dance floor, masking the faint whimpers and cries of the hostages in the ballroom.
“And I want a castle on a private island,” her partner mocks. “They don’t get nothing until we get what we want!” Trigger-happy as usual, he waves his gun around as he talks.
The other four don’t engage. Dani thinks they’re just following orders.
“How about we use them?” The woman gestures at the corner where Malcolm is propped against the wall, Dani sitting by his side.
They’re kept on the opposite corner, separate from the rest of the hostages, no doubt, to keep them from trying anything. They also have another man guarding them, his gun at the ready to shoot if Dani moved from Malcolm’s side. It’s all so redundant—she doesn’t see how she’ll manage any attack in their current situation.
“The cop?” Her second in command, asks, doubt evident in his voice.
“Yeah,” The woman muses, but Dani knows she’s already made up her mind.
“But he’s bleeding.”
“Exactly. To show them we’re serious.”
“You’re the boss,” the man shrugs.
Dani stiffens as Trigger-happy walks towards them, unconsciously increasing the pressure on Malcolm’s wound.
Malcolm grunts and she immediately eases back. “Sorry,” she whispers.
“Don’t be,” he murmurs before meaty fingers grasp his hair and pull him away.
“Hey, hey!” Dani shouts, but the man guarding her pushes his gun against her shoulder warningly. Dani glares back, wishing she could show him that a stupid move like this would help her disarm him in no time. She doesn’t, though, because even if she managed to disarm one guy, there are five more. And the hostages.
And Malcolm.
So she grits her teeth and watches as Malcolm’s pulled a few feet away and dropped unceremoniously to the ground. He’s lost so much blood at this point that he doesn’t attempt to fight them or get up, even. He just lies on the floor—his left arm curled under him, holding his bleeding wound— and breathes through his pain.
Dani could swear he’s gone three shades paler now that she’s not putting any pressure on the bullet wound, and judging by the oozing crimson on the new spot where Malcolm is lying, he’s still actively bleeding. The sight makes her sick, and she aches to hold him again, to comfort him and tell him it’ll be okay.
The woman pulls out her phone, readying to snap the video, and Trigger-happy grabs Malcolm’s hair again, pulling his face up. Malcolm groans in pain and squeezes his eyes shut. This makes the man fist his hand harder and shakes him roughly. “Open your eyes, cop,” he says as he shakes him.
Malcolm gasps and does as he’s told, opening his eyes which are glassy and full of pain.
Dani imagines twenty ways she can make this man pay. She clenches her hands into fists, and Malcolm’s blood, already dried and crusted, adds a scary aura to her knuckles. She doesn’t charge at them. She can’t.
Her whole body shakes as she watches the woman adjust the camera angle, as she sees the light from the flash shine on Malcolm’s face, and as Trigger-happy pulls Malcolm’s head back so roughly that he cries out.
“Good!” He tells Malcolm. “Now smile for the camera.”