Chapter Text
Damien Moreau circled his captive. Perspiration ran down Eliot Spencer’s scarred back.
Damien ran a hand across strained shoulders. “Just like old times, hmm, Eliot?”
“F…fuck you,” Eliot rasped.
“Now, now. That isn’t very original is it?” He trailed a hand down Eliot’s exposed ribs.
Eliot twisted his wrists in the handcuffs. Raised his head to peer at Damien. It brought a smile to Damien’s face.
“Oh, I know your tricks. You’d love nothing more than to wrap your legs around my neck. Choke the life out of me? Twist my neck? That is why I took the liberty to chain your ankles to the floor as well.”
A nod to his man sent the leather strap swishing through the air again. A satisfying snap pierced the air and Eliot grunted in pain.
"See? I am not so unkind. I instructed that a leather strap be used. Nothing to bring blood."
"How…how considerate. Still cuffed and being whipped."
"After all you and your team has done to me I am giving you a way out.” He shrugged. “For old time sake. All I’m asking in return for your release is the location of your team.”
Eliot chuckled. It had to hurt as much punishment as he had taken from Damien’s men. “You know me better than that.” He paused and licked the blood from his lip. “I ain’t telling you anything about my team. I kept your secrets. And I don’t even like you.”
“I always did appreciate your discretion. But this is to save you more pain, Eliot. Do you think I want to hurt you? You think I'm that cruel?”
Brown hair flicked over a shoulder, putting cold, blue eyes on display. “You lead me and Nate into a killbox. You didn’t expect me to walk outta there. But I did. Killed all your men. Killed your pet, Chapman. Looks to me like you’re itching for a repeat.”
Damien had to admit. He missed Eliot’s fire. None of his other men had quite whatever it was Spencer had. And yet…he must be kept in his place.
He hooked his left hand behind Eliot’s neck, pulling him into his right fist. The air rushed from Eliot’s lungs, warming the skin above Damien’s collar.
Damien leaned in to whisper in his former man’s ear. “What is that you always say? When you hit someone in the stomach and want them to stay down…hit them in the solar plexus? Did I get that right, Eliot?” He lingered long enough to make Eliot squirm.
He stepped back only slightly. Smiled as Eliot gasped and sputtered. “I will get what I want. I always do. You know that.” He cupped a hand on his bruised cheek and raised his head, forcing him to meet his gaze. His thumb swept across the tanned cheekbone. “You know I know how to hurt you more than anyone ever has. Don’t make me.”
Damien’s guard, trained to know when he was needed, stepped alongside him. He wasn’t like Eliot, or even Chapman, but he was a good employee.
“Sedate him. Get him down from there and strap him to a chair. The next round starts soon.”
Quickly and efficiently, a syringe was produced and jammed into the skin of Eliot’s neck. “Remember. What happens next is up to you.” Damien turned and walked away.