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Every bump in the road rattles Ryland. Makes his head feel like it’s spinning. By some sheer force of will he hasn’t passed out yet. Not that he hasn’t come close. He tries to wiggle his wrists to see if there’s any give in the ties. No luck. Other than himself, the trunk feels empty. Eyes closed he tries to assess the damage. His stomach and ribs throb painfully. His left knee feels sticky and raw. Neck is a little tender. His arm joints ache from the position they’ve been forced into. The head wound is the worst. The most debilitating.
Ryland tries to open his eyes and look around but his vision is unfocused. Trying to focus sends a spike of pain through his skull that makes him whimper. He needs to try regardless. Maybe there’s something he missed that he can use to get out of this. He doesn’t have his glasses, lost somewhere during the assault. He’s not sure how helpful they would be anyway. He can see alright for the most part unless he needs to get really up close to something.
He knows that some trunks have emergency releases. Working around kids, has had him on more than one occasion find out about something like this. In the interest of being able to protect or inform them. He never thought he’d be the one that would actually be in need of that knowledge. The release tab or button is standard with enclosed trunks like cars have. Technically this is not enclosed. It’s still worth a look.
Nothing.
No way out.
Not in anyway he has control over.
He leans his head back and closes his eyes.
He tries not to let himself feel hopelessness.
Ryland has no idea where he’s being taken.
No doubt, it definitely won’t be good.
Full awareness comes back to Colt when a hand strikes his face and sends him tumbling to the side. His groan of pain turns into an angry growl. Fuck that hurt. He can’t see much from this position, but it's pretty clear he’s surrounded. He can see two of Tom's security crew standing above him. Man-bun is looking particularly vindictive. Tom stands maybe 10 feet in front of him. The sight of him makes Colt feel contempt. This fucking bastard.
The two goons standing above him manhandle him and the chair he's strapped to back upright. Colt sends a glare in both their directions. Man-bun takes it upon himself to erase the expression with a closed fist, whipping his face to the side. And a second hit to his stomach. As much as he would like to not give the guy the satisfaction, Colt can't help the groan from the hit to the face or the choked sound he expels as the air is knocked out of him. He can't help the way he sags forward slightly and breathes just a little heavier.
Colt can take a hit. He's done it hundreds of times. Martial arts as a kid. Accidents on set. Doesn't mean it doesn’t hurt. He looks up at Man-bun. Colt can tell just from the look on his face that this guy is more than a bit pleased with his human punching bag. The guy looks absolutely thrilled. A little rough play isn't a new concept to Colt, but usually it's consensual. And no one here is really his type.
Tom approaches in a couple strides. Colt wonders if they are really going to do the whole “villain monologue” thing. He considers tuning Tom out, but he's got nothing else to do. Tom has always had a commanding presence. It's easy to get sucked in.
Tom says he doesn't want to do this. Colt scoffs. Yeah, sure.
Tom talks. And, yeah, guess it's the exact thing Colt thought it would be. He literally sneers- SNEERS at Colt. Pretentious ass. Colt interjects. He calls Tom names. Throws the occasional quip. Uses sarcasm as a shield to hide behind. Tom plows through. Not stopping to give Colt much opportunity to speak. Even so, there’s something odd about it. The knife in Tom’s hand makes Colt nervous at first glance but Tom hasn't used it in a threatening manner. Tom keeps taking glances at “Dressy” like he's checking that he's saying the right lines. He sits and stands and walks and gestures like he's on a set.
Like he's playing a character.
Colt is stuck between taking Tom at face value or trying to read under the surface. It's hard to tell what is real with Tom. He’s seen Tom act hundreds of times. To some degree this feels like that. Tom is a brilliant actor. He’s good at his craft. He still has tells and habits when he’s in character. He could be seeing it all wrong. There's no reason he should trust Tom considering his current position. Tom's tone remains disdainfully, bored. His mannerisms read as apathetic at best, dissatisfied and frustrated at worst.
His words make Colt doubt the facade before him. He catches Tom really trying to catch his attention for a few phrases.
He brings up Ryland.
“didn't want him involved”
“got my hands tied”
“I really do love him.”
The conflict between the words and the tone troubles Colt. It sounds like Tom is being threatened with Ryland’s wellbeing. It feels like Tom couldn’t care less. There’s a strange dichotomy there. The two pieces don’t fit together.
A black SUV pulls up at street level as Tom talks about Gail and sends the two closest guards away.
“Gail's idea.”
“Nothing personal”
Colt tries to reconcile with the problem laid before him. Tom's acting like a Bond villain. But it's not adding up. Tom circles him, practically leans on his shoulder while he continues his monologue. Almost uncomfortably close. There's a struggle up above, but the sound of a zip tie snapping meets Colt's ears through it.
The SUV stops. Ryland waits to see if it'll move again. It could just be a stop sign. The driver's side door opens. Kietel exits. Gail stays in the passenger seat. This is an actual full stop. He tries to take a peek out a window. Tries to figure out where he is. He adjusts his position. Tom's loft. They brought him back here.
There are muffled voices outside the trunk. Two… no three people. Not ideal. He’s outnumbered. Even if he weren’t it’d still be an issue. He’s injured and weak. Ryland knows it'll probably backfire if he tries anything. The only thing he’s got is that he’s pretty sure they aren't trying to kill him. At least not yet. He can try to give fighting a shot. He's in pain and tired and emotionally overwhelmed. Fear and dread come in steady waves. His heart is racing. Ryland knows he’s at a great disadvantage. He can still afford to be an inconvenience. A hindrance. Stall and slow events down.
It's cramped and difficult as he tries to adjust his position in the trunk. Ryland doesn't want them to notice him moving too much. It's incredibly challenging not to mutter any of his usual swearing substitutes. He tries to position himself so he's facing toward the hatch legs curled up in front of him.
The hatch opens. Dressler reaches for him. Ryland waits till he gets a bit closer and then tries to kick him in the face. Dressler manages to dodge it and grabs his leg using it to drag him forward. He manages to lock a hand onto the edge of the trunk underneath him to stop his momentum. It's awkward and his wrists hurt from the pressure of his body weighing on them. It stops him from being fully dragged out and potentially hitting his head on the way. He would really like to avoid anymore injuries of that type specifically. It also gives him a bit of leverage to work with. He attempts to yank his leg free. Dressler holds on tight to his calf.
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way, sweetheart,” Dressler threatens. Ryland feels his stomach turn with sudden disgust. He almost throws up, already having nausea from his ride over here. He tastes bile. Swallows it down. That is Tom's word. He doesn’t move. Doesn't let go of the edge. He looks at Dressler with what he hopes is fierce defiance. If they want to take him somewhere they're going to have to work for it.
“Stubborn. Hard way it is. Remar grab him, left side,” Dressler commands.
Dressler moves his grip further up to his knee to stop him from attempting to kick again. He shifts to Ryland's right side. They each go for one of his arms. Ryland tries to twist away, but he doesn't really have anywhere to escape. He loses his grip on the edge of the trunk as he's hauled to sitting upright. He has a brief second of vertigo that makes him sway.
“Let g-ughh,” Ryland chokes on his protest when Remar grabs the back of his neck. Thumb digging next to his windpipe painfully.
Kietel walks up in front of him. He starts patting him down. Ryland tries to squirm away. The hands gripping his arms dig in harder and shake him for good measure.
“Well, would you look at that?” Kietel pulls Tom's phone from his jacket with a smirk. “He had it this whole time.”
“You go with Gail, we'll take care of this one,” Dressler says. His tone is menacing. Ryland can tell that he’s looking at a painful future. Dressler and Remar lift him up onto his feet. Dressler grabs him by the chin, “You ready to cooperate?”
Ryland attempts to dislodge the hand from his face by trying to quickly turn his head. Dressler chuckles and grips a little harder. Nails dig in by his jaw line. Dressler holds him there for a second longer. Ryland thinks Dressler might be entertained. He is a difficult read. The hand holding his chin pulls away briefly before Dressler pats him on the cheek. Ryland growls, eyes narrowing. This guy is toying with him. Dressler is a piece of garbage. A waste of human potential.
“You’re feisty. I’ll give you that,” Dressler looks down on him amused. Ryland is so focused on giving him a death glare he doesn’t even notice the fist coming for his abdomen until it connects. Ryland exhales sharply and coughs a few times. This must be a go to move, it's been insanely effective so far. He knows his stomach and ribs are going to be a mess of bruises. His knees give and he tips forward. Remar’s hand on the back of his neck, as well as, the hold on his arms stop him from fully crumpling.
Remar hoists him up and over his shoulder like it's light work. He tries to struggle free, but he has no leverage. His legs are essentially useless in this position. His arms are out of the equation, stuck behind him. Nausea returns from being held upside down. They carry him down to the dock.
Colt tests it as Tom returns to standing in front of him. His hands are still joined, but the tie strapping him to the chair has been cut. Confusion hits first. Why would Tom do that? Colt almost bolts but Tom holds up a finger as if to say, hang on. Colt stays. He has no idea what game they're playing here. Between all those words swirling in his head and the cut tie Colt feels the equation before him begin to come together.
He can't let himself fully trust it. There's definitely more going on here than what is on the surface.
Tom is an actor. That much Colt knows is true. Tom knows how to work a space. Knows how to deliver lines. Knows how to improvise. Colt might even admit that Tom is an excellent actor. The likelihood that he was acting this whole time has started to feel extremely plausible.
The plausibility of that sky rockets when he sees apathy replaced by rage on Tom’s face at the sight of Ryland’s bloody face.
Ryland can’t help the way he groans and curls up when Remar practically dumps him on the wooden decking. He’s bruised and battered. Sore in ways he’s never experienced before. He doesn’t even get the time to live in this heap before he’s being hoisted back up to his knees and a hand is yanking his hair painfully. He winces and hisses, before he has the opportunity to really take in the scene in front of him.
Ryland’s chest restricts painfully. His breathing shudders. A wave of panic grips him.
Colt is bloodied. He’s taken at least a couple hits to the face. There’s a pretty significant gash on his nose. He’s been tied down to a chair. No escape available. He also looks absolutely furious. He's baring his teeth in a way that could only be described as a snarl. Tom stands just to Ryland’s right in front of Colt. He doesn’t want to acknowledge what this looks like. His brain decides to anyway. He meets Tom’s eyes. Fury burns there. He matches Tom’s fury with his own feelings of betrayal. His heart feels like it might shatter.
Ryland had been able to reconcile Henry’s death as an unfortunate accident. An accident still deserving consequences, but an accident all the same. This situation looks very much intentional. A piece of him doesn’t want to think that Tom would be capable of something like this. The evidence is right in front of him. Ryland doesn’t know how he can possibly excuse it.
Tom turns away from him and back to Colt. Dressler announces that the phone was found. That Kietel has it. Tom looks thoughtful for a moment. His eyes narrow slightly before addressing Colt directly again.
“Ahhh that’s too bad,” He starts with a shrug. “You were right, that was the only thing keeping you alive. It's just such a bummer. This could’ve all been over much sooner. But Colt Seavers just couldn’t go quietly. That’s just how you are though. Always sneaking in and taking the spotlight. Creating distractions.”
Dressler and another security guard each grab a gas can, unprompted. Ryland hadn’t noticed them initially. He can think of one possibility for why they are present. He doesn’t like where this is going.
“Woah, woah, Dressy. Evans,” Tom patronizes. “Let me finish. We’ve got time. No need to rush,” he waves a hand in a careless manner, “It really is unfortunate that Gail doesn’t want any loose ends. I’d prefer not to have to dispose of you both. If I could run off with Ryland I would. Would’ve been fun to elope.”
Tom crouches in front of Ryland. He places a hand on each side of his face. Ryland almost flinches away from it but he can’t with the hand still tangled in his hair. Tom meets his eyes and Ryland can’t help but feel puzzled at what he finds there. His expression is desperately serious. His jaw is clenched. He looks extremely distressed. He leans in and places a kiss on his temple where Ryland had been struck earlier.
“Trust me,” He whispers, so quietly that Ryland almost doesn’t catch it. Tom backs away and stands back up.
“Colt, you’re familiar with pyro work aren’t you?” Tom asks. “Not your first rodeo, bud. Though this one might be a bit more real. It’s time to go our separate ways.”
Ryland winces as he’s dragged back a few feet. Tom follows, picking up a backpack on the way. Dressler approaches Colt. Colt bounces a leg. He looks ready to break down. The gas can comes up. Dressler is drenching Colt with it. Ryland tries to look away but he couldn’t turn his head if he wanted to anyway. He wills himself to shut his eyes, but for some reason his brain is deciding not to send the message. He doesn’t want to see this.
Ryland doesn’t even realize it when he starts yelling, “Colt get out of there! Come on, Colt!” Ryland pleads, even if he knows it’s futile. “Tom please, stop this. Don’t do this.”
“It’s going to be okay, Ry!” Colt yells. “Listen to me! It's going to be okay!”
He stops suddenly, like he’s accepted his fate.
It happens fast. Dressler takes out a lighter. Colt sprays him with gasoline from his mouth. Tom pushes Remar away. The gun in his hand misfires. A close call. Colt runs for a boat and starts driving away. Tom grabs Ryland by the arm, quickly lifting him up. They run. The security team scrambles, wasting time. Remar pursues them, while the other three go after Colt. Remar fires a couple shots. By some miracle they miss. Ryland puts it down to adrenaline that he’s able to move this well considering every hit he’s taken tonight.
Tom’s loft isn’t too far from the city streets. Even at this time of night there are still people out and about. A crowd of drunk girls slows Remar down. It gives them time to duck into a bar. Ryland is pushed into the corner right by the door. Tom watches for Remar to pass. Once it seems like the coast is clear Tom pulls out a pocket knife and cuts the tie around Ryland’s wrists. Ryland rubs them a bit as he looks around. It's not busy here. He can see the odd looks they are getting from a few patrons. He knows he must look a mess with blood and bruises. At least the bartender is either too busy or too indifferent to care.
He looks up at Tom. They lock eyes. Ryland can’t help himself. He can’t let himself have a full breakdown like he would prefer. They aren’t safe yet. Colt isn’t safe yet. He just needs a moment. He latches onto Tom, gripping onto the back of his jacket. Tom cradles his head with one hand and grabs on to his shoulder with the other. All Ryland can hear are a litany of apologies that he’s not really absorbing. Those are for later. He takes a deep breath. Fortifies himself.
The news breaks through. Colt’s face is plastered onto the video of Henry’s death. Ryland looks back at Tom.
“We need to get out of here. Get that phone back. You’re going to tell me everything,” Ryland demands.
Ryland grabs Tom’s hand and leads him out, while he still has a bit of adrenaline to keep him going.