Summary: Simon Riley never wanted a divorce, even before the chaos. Now that the world has gone to hell in a hand basket, he is determined to do everything in his power to keep his wife safe.
There is nothing he will not do, no boundaries he will not cross—including kidnapping his wife. The world has gone mad, and Simon Riley is finding peace for his wife any way he can, even if that means living off grid and isolated with the rest of the 141
Imagine Philip and Caleb having their big (deadly) argument... and then suddenly a demon bird whisks Caleb away to eat him. How would Philip deal with that? Would that calm him down enough to not fly into a deadly rage again?
On instinct, Philip would immediately go after the despicable creature that’s taken his brother from him. The man might be a brainwashed buffoon, but he’s Philip’s only family, and he refuses to let him go after all of these years of searching for him. He’d promptly petrify the heathenous monster that whisked away his brother and catch him using a plant glyph (the way Luz did in Wing It Like Witches). He has his issues with his elder sibling, but it would be utterly cruel to let him fall victim to the monstrosities of the Isles. After that, well, he needs to protect his brother from that wicked temptress who stole him away in the first place. No matter how he claims otherwise, Philip knows it’s just the spell that has his brother struggling against him. It might be a couple months since he got rid of the witch and rescued his brother, but the magic is taking quite a while to wear off. Well, Philip would reason, he’s spent years under her spell. It’ll wear off eventually, even if it hasn’t yet. Yet.
Rating: NSFW (Talk of kidnapping, actual kidnapping, language, sex, scheming)
Trigger Warnings: Kidnapping
Author’s Note: This is a direct result of a conversation that I had two weeks ago with @the-blind-assassin-12. This one got away from me a little but I think you’ll still enjoy it. It’s gonna get kind of dark, but when we get there, you’ll understand why.
Summary: You and Logan head to Westworld to test out a new narrative before it launches to the public - one where Logan gets to play the hero... but will everything go as planned?
“So it’s a… a kidnapping narrative?” He was bent over the tablet on the tabletop, his eyes moving over the images as fast as he could scroll through them with one long finger. “The Hosts actually abduct the Guests?”
“Yep.” You were perched next to him on the edge of the table, your bare legs crossed at the knee. “It’s different from the other types of narratives we offer, because with this one, there are actual stakes, Logan.” He glanced up and you smiled at him, shrugging your shoulders. “Still can’t get hurt, not really aside from being scared, or with some bumps and bruises and scrapes, but according to the people here, the ones that designed it? It’s a lot more intense, so not all Guests can participate, you have to be cleared to do it during the intake interview and then they flag you somehow.” He reached over with the hand that wasn’t on the tablet, fingers moving up your leg slowly as he stroked the skin there, his attention torn between what he was looking at and you, and you couldn’t help but grin. “Lucky for me, Logan, I get to…”
“They’re gonna grab you, tie you up and throw you onto the back of a horse?” He looked up again, his eyes darkening as you nodded. “Gun to your head, or knife to your…”
“Mmmmhmm.” You bit down on your lip and put one of your hands on top of his, staring at him. “It’s meant to be a big thing, when they take someone. The narrative builders worked really hard to make it so that even though we’re aware of what the stakes really are and that we can’t lose, we stay immersed in it, no matter how long it takes to be rescued or for us to get away.” And they’re usually pretty good with that, so… “So that’s the narrative I’m going to test, gotta make sure that -”
“Who’s gonna rescue you?” He was smirking, tongue moving over his lower lip to wet it. “Another new Host? Some random -”
“Well I’d hoped it would be you, Logan.” You reached out to run your fingers through his hair, shaking your head. “I know you’ve been working hard lately, and you’re looking forward to this trip. What could be better than saving the damsel in distress from the -”
“You’re the furthest thing there is from a damsel,” Logan replied as he pushed up from the chair he was sitting in, his hand pulling away from your leg and moving to your side, the other one flattening on the table on the other side of your body. “But I can’t wait to shoot those things and see how grateful you are to me for it.” You laughed, leaning and and kissing him slowly, your legs uncrossing so that he could step closer. “How am I supposed to find you?” His breath hot on your cheek, Logan kissed his way toward your ear before taking the lobe between his teeth and pulling back. “And how long am I supposed to wait?”
You raised both hands, your fingers skating over the bare skin of his arms and settling over the thin, inked lines on the inside of one of them. “I donno, Logan, it depends on…” He bit down and you hissed, head tilting to the side and Logan’s mouth dropped again, moving over your jaw and then to your neck. He doesn’t wanna talk about this now, he… “You know how this goes, Logan.” You sighed, humming quietly and stroking his arm again, the fingers of your other hand curling around the roots of his hair and tugging. “Delos.” He pulled away slightly at your use of his last name, looking up at you through long lashes. “We’re gonna be sleeping on God only knows what for the next couple days, and as much as I’d like to let you have your way with me on this table... “ He grinned, straightening up and before you knew it, Logan had scooped you into his arms and was carrying you toward the large bed against the far wall of the room you were sharing. A lot had changed between the two of you since he’d opened up to you for the first time in the Mesa suite, but as he tossed you onto the bed, lowering his body onto yours, pressing you down against the mattress, you realized that one thing was still the same. He still makes the most of these beds every time we’re here.
---
You woke up the next morning, eager to head down and catch the train with him, but when you opened your eyes, Logan was already out of bed, the light in the bathroom on. Why would he need to… Logan never worried about his appearance on the mornings he caught the train into the park with you, since he’d just be changing into his well loved park attire, but you could hear him in the small room, opening drawers and unzipping his travel case. “Logan?” Climbing out of bed, you stepped carefully into the bathroom, blinking at the brightness. “Why are you -”
“I can’t ride in with you this morning.” He was dressed in a white shirt, the sleeves undone and rolled up to his elbows, the tails tucked into dress pants. “They just… I have a meeting before…” He curled his lip and you felt your shoulders slump. “I got the email overnight, and just checked it when I woke up, some fucking client is here and wants to meet with me, refuses to talk to anyone else.” Oh. “So I have to do that, and then report back to Juliet, and it’s a thirteen hour difference, so I have to wait.” He huffed, shaking his head. “I won’t be able to take a train in until at least the one at noon, which means that you’ll be a full day ahead of me, and…”
“Logan.” You reached out to him with both hands, stepping between him and the countertop. “It’s fine. Once I get there, I just have to ride up north toward Python Pass, past the mines. There’s a town there now, and that’s where this all is.” You smiled at him, even though you were disappointed. “There’s more for me to look at and assess before I start with the actual narrative, so I can wait for you, Logan, I -” You shook your head, pushing strands of his damp hair into place as his hands settled on your shoulders, his eyes drawn to the patterns on your skin beneath them. “I’ll need someone to rescue me, anway, so I can’t…”
“William’s going in with you.” You caught the change in his tone of voice and sucked in a breath.
“William? Why? If he’s here, why can’t he -” Logan laughed, looking up and shrugging his shoulders.
“No idea. But Juliet said this client was very specific, and they didn’t want to see William, they wanted a Delos, and since I’m here…” You understood; Logan was a hot commodity, and since he was much more stable than he had been in the past, had made a ton of progress and implemented new processes within Delos, people were taking notice. And they should. You were proud of him, but you would have been lying if you said you hadn’t felt a wave of disappointment at learning he wouldn’t be riding in with you. “He’s just going with you, since there has to be someone from the board on the first trip…” Logan shook his head. “It should be me, but I’ll…” He pushed the strap of your tank top down, lowering his head to kiss the curve of you shoulder, right over the lines he’d permanently put on your body. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” I know you will, Logan.
---
He was seething with anger, staring out the window as the plateaus and desert flew by. That could have been a fucking email, or a phone call or… Logan understood that people wanted to see the face to go along with the name, that they wanted to feel like their investement and involvement with the company weren’t for nothing, but it was frustrating when the people he met with simply wanted to talk - and not about anything new. We could have had the whole day together. Logan shook his head, wondering what you were doing, if you’d reached the new town yet, if you had started your review of the narrative. Wonder what she’s wearing this trip.
Even though the train ride was short, meaning that he’d get into Sweetwater just as the sun set, and could get on a horse and set out almost immediately, Logan wasn’t happy. The way he felt about you wasn’t new, but it was still unexpected, and each time the two of you went to Westworld or any of the other parks together, the connection between you had strengthened, even more than it did at home in Los Angeles. You’d been a surprise to him from the beginning, and after the night you’d taken him to get his first tattoo - had let him tattoo you - Logan had stopped questioning the way he felt about you, deciding to let things happen as they would.
That had been six months ago, and you’d provided Logan with something else to focus on, a distraction from work and from the thing that had nearly consumed his life: finding a way to oust William from Delos, and remove him from Juliet’s life. He was close - he’d found a way to prove that William was manipulating the system, collecting financial data on Guests without the knowledge of anyone at Delos, and even though that wasn’t what Logan truly wanted to remove him for, he knew that taking that angle with the Board was more likely to produce results than trying to find a way to prove that William had simply left him for dead in the middle of the desert. Either way, as long as I can get him out, I’ll… Personal vendetta aside, Logan’s free time was spent gathering and figuring out the best way to present the information while doing everything possible to keep things civil with William so that when he made his move, there was no opportunity for the other man to prepare.
But sending you off into the park with William had made Logan uneasy, and without telling you too much - you knew only the basics of what had happened and it had to stay that way until he could be sure he’d be able to use the information he’d gathered - Logan knew he wouldn’t feel better until he had eyes on you again. And then she’s going to get kidnapped, and...but that’s part of the game. He felt himself smiling, watching as the sun set behind the mountains, the chatter of the few other late day arrival passengers barely registering to him. As he stepped off the train and onto the wooden platform, Logan grinned, eyes passing over the scenery and the people milling around. Good to be back.
He wasted no time in going to the stables and picking a horse before asking for a map to Lost Spring. Within an hour of his arrival in Sweetwater, Logan had left the town behind him, riding north beneath the rising stars. The stablemaster had told him that he’d reach the town in the middle of the night, and even though Logan enjoyed the open air and the silence, he found himself urging the horse onward, dipping one hand into his pocket to pull out his watch more frequently as the miles passed. Just before midnight, Logan saw flickering lights on the horizon, and knowing that it meant his destination was close, he dug his heels into the horse’s sides, closing the distance more quickly.
It’s impressive. He sucked in a breath as the town took shape around him, larger than Sweetwater but smaller and less striking than Pariah, even though there was a lively feeling to it, too. After leaving the horse in the stable, he wandered back toward the saloon, where he’d seen a sign advertising rooms for rent. Logan looked over everything, watching as the Hosts moved through the street and between buildings, a few of them trying to talk to him, asking if he needed anything, but he was focused on the saloon, on the sounds of laughter and music that he heard from within. I’ll look for her, grab a drink and ask around, find out… But Logan didn’t have far to look, because as soon as he pushed through the swinging doors and into the bar, he saw you sitting on one of the stools, hair loose around your bare shoulders. Sleeveless. She’s gonna kill me.
Steps quickening, Logan cut through the tables where people were sitting and playing cards, striding to the bar and not even hesitating as he slipped his arms around your waist, letting his lips fall on the skin behind your ear. “Hey, darlin’.” You yelped but immediately relaxed backwards, turning your head and meeting his lips with yours. I don’t know why but I’m relieved. You shifted on the stool, turning your body toward him, and Logan groaned as you teased his lips with your tongue, the faint taste of whiskey and something citrus registering in his mind. It’s only been 14 hours, and I... When you pulled back from the kiss and looked up at Logan, he spoke again, letting out a heavy breath. “What was that for?”
“Happy to see you, Delos.” You shrugged, gesturing toward the empty stool next to you, Logan taking it and sitting. “I wasn’t expecting you tonight, thought I’d have to look for you -”
“Yeah, I made sure that I got on the train this afternoon, I didn’t wanna spend the night alone in our room.” He held up a finger to the bartender, pointing at the whiskey bottle and nodding, and the man quickly poured him a shot. Once Logan had swallowed it down and requested an actual drink, he turned to you again, leaning an elbow on the bar. “This place is really different.”
“It is.” You picked your glass up, taking a long drink and shaking your head. “I learned a lot today, got to talk to a lot of the Hosts, and…” You closed your eyes. “The people that live here.” Logan rolled his eyes, knowing that you were correcting yourself out of habit, much like Disney employees did. Gotta keep the magic alive. Logan never thought of them as people, but understood why you did, especially when you were around other Guests. “So I guess the story is,” you said, leaning in closer to him. “There’s a gang in the hills to the north, run by a guy that goes by the name of McCray, but everyone calls him ‘Ghost’, because no one knows if they’ve ever seen him.” He saw the excitement on your face, heard it in your voice. “People keep getting grabbed by his men, dragged out of town, and the Sheriff has had to rescue like six people in the last month, because they just keep getting taken.” That’s a terrifying backstory … “But the thing is that when the Sheriff and whoever he’s taken with him find these people?” You shook your head, closing your eyes. “They don’t wanna come back, they wanna stay on with the gang.” Shit. Logan’s eyes widened, his head tilted to the side. “Yeah, the Sheriff told me that since I’m alone here in town, I need to watch out for three men on gray horses, because…”
“Alone?” You nodded, mouth hanging open slightly as he cut you off. “Where’s William, he was -”
“Oh, he left almost as soon as we got here.” You waved your hand, taking another long drink and finishing what was in your glass. “We rode up from Sweetwater together, but we barely checked into the rooms before he was making some bullshit excuse and telling me he’d be back in the morning.” The fuck? “I didn’t question it, because I really don’t give a shit where he went, but…” You shrugged. “I haven’t seen him in hours.” You straightened up, smiling brightly at him, and Logan grinned back, reaching out to take your hand in his, linking your fingers together. “Plus, it doesn’t matter, you’re here now, so I don’t need him.” He tilted his head to the side, staring at you, and even though he was dead tired and sore from being on the horse for so long, Logan knew that neither of you would be sleepng for a long time.
“You think there’s any rooms left?” He watched you pause, eyes going wide. “I need somewhere to sleep.” You stayed quiet for a second before reaching out and undoing one of the buttons on his shirt, fingertips brushing against the skin beneath it.
“I’ve got a bed you can climb into tonight, cowboy.” You leaned in, glancing around as if you were making sure no one was listening. “I don’t think you’ll be sleeping much, though.” He saw the flicker in your eyes and grinned, nodding as he lifted his glass to his mouth, swallowing the last of his drink and licking his lips clean.
“Lead the way.” Logan followed you up the stairs, his hands at your hips, and when you stopped in front of a door, your hand on the knob, he reached past you, fingers closing around yours and his body pressing against you fron behind. “Wait.” He was almost growling in your ear, and Logan felt your hips shift back against his, your lips forming his name but barely getting the word out audibly. That’s what I was lookin’ for. “I just wanted to tell you,” he said as his hand moved back from yours and up your arm before it moved to your stomach, his nose in the hair that curled freely behind your ear. “I rode here fast, because I wanted to spend the night with you.” You nodded, and Logan pressed you against the door, the fingers of his hand undoing the top buttons on your vest and then sliding beneath the soft material and against your skin.
“I’ll make it worth your while, Logan.” You turned your head toward his and Logan pulled back slightly, giving you space. “We just gotta get int-”
“Do we?” He kissed you, almost tasting the surprise you felt, and grinned against your lips, the tips of his fingers curling around the swell of your breast, bare beneath the leather you wore. “I think we can -”
“She’s sure pretty, partner.” He froze at the sound of the voice, both annoyed with the interruption and angry that someone had dared to make a comment about you in his presence. That’s not how this works. “Maybe when you’re done with ‘er you can send -” He swore under his breath and pulled his hand away from your chest, leaving the one at your hip where it was.
“She’s not a fucking Host.” His words came out in a hiss as he turned the top half of his body, eyes blazing in the dim light of the hallway. “And she’s not -” The man was dressed in a pair of dark pants and a dirty button down shirt, a black hat perched on his head. He’s good looking. Logan was surprised, but he knew better than to relax, the hand that had been on you going to his hip, where a pistol was holstered.
“No need to get upset.” The man held both hands up, his eyes looking past Logan and to you, the smile back on his face. “Even prettier from the front.” Logan was quiet, waiting, and then he heard you whispering in his ear, one of your hands resting against his back.
“He’s a Host, Logan. It’s fine.” You pressed your lips to the back of his neck, sighing. “Part of the game, hmm?” You spoke quietly, but then cleared your throat, stepping to the side. “I’m all set.” You took Logan’s hand, twining your fingers together. “Already got the rest of my night planned, but thanks for the compliment.” The second man stayed quiet, regarding you with ice blue eyes for long moments and then he nodded once, reaching up to tip his hat.
“You two enjoy yourselves.” After he turned away, heading for the stairs, Logan took a deep breath and returned his attention to you, nodding at the door.
“Inside.” No more interruptons. You wasted no time opening the door and walking into the room, and Logan looked around, taking it in. It was simple - very understated, but it looked cozy, and though Logan had seen his fair share of rooms in Westworld, it was always nice to see what the Delos money was paying for. “How were you so -”
“I think it’s part of the narrative, Logan.” You were sitting on the edge of the bed, removing your boots. “They have to identify someone in town, right? Make sure they’re here? Gotta have someone scouting, even if the other guys ride in.” I didn’t even think about that. He stared at you as you twisted your hair over one shoulder, lips pressed together. “I’m in their sights now.” Are you? God she’s so fucking excited about this. He raised an eyebrow, bending over to pull his own boots off and curling his toes. Finally. “You picked a different outfit this trip.”
“I did.” Logan stepped over to the bed, grinning. “I just grabbed shit off the hangers and put it on.” He stood in front of you, reaching out to put his hands on your shoulders. “If I’m gonna be ridin’ out into the middle of the goddamn desert lookin’ for you, I didn’t want to wear layers.” You laughed, reaching out and pulling his shirt untucked, starting to undo the buttons from the bottom up. “Less for you to take off, too.” You looked up at him, not saying anything but still smiling, and he dropped his hands so that he could shrug his arms from the sleeves, the material falling to the floor as your hands worked his belt undone. “All business tonight?”
“Just focused, Logan.” You pulled his belt from the loops, letting it clatter to the floor and then lowered your hands, flattening them on the bed and scooting backwards onto the mattress. “And grateful to you for defending me from that Host in the hallway.” Your lips quirked up as you spoke, but before you could get another word out, Logan climbed into bed with you, letting his body press down against yours, like he’d been wanting all day. “Jesus, Logan, you’re…” He was unbuttoning your vest as he kissed your neck, hands working quickly between your bodies. Once he’d undone the last one, Logan pulled the material apart and sat up, kneeling over your body on the bed.
He could see you clearly in the moonlight streaming in through the window, and the night was perfectly cool - Logan’s favorite type of night in the park, and the exact opposite of the sweltering day it had been. “Every time I see you,” Logan said the words quietly as he ran a hand up your stomach, spreading his fingers apart and pushing down gently. “I… just wanna touch you.” He swallowed, leaning down and kissing you hard on the mouth, your heart pounding beneath his fingertips. “I can’t help it.” He nipped at your lip, and though you’d been laying still beneath him, you reached up, one hand gripping his bare shoulder and the other wrapping around the back of his neck to hold him in place. “Yeah? That’s what you…” You arched your back, pressing your chest against his, and Logan’s fingers curled, thumb swiping against the raised peak of your nipple before he swallowed your breath in another kiss.
You pushed him away from you only a few minutes later, and though he was surprised, it didn’t last long as he watched you unbutton your pants, pushing them down over your hips along with some ruffled cotton and lace. He continued watching you for a few monents, reveling in the reveal of each inch of your skin, and then Logan moved too, keeping his eyes on you but raising his hips to take his own pants off, followed by the thin cotton shorts that he wore in place of typical underwear. I’m so glad we don’t wear this shit now. Both of you totally naked, Logan grinned at you, raising an eyebrow. “Thought you said you wanted to touch me, Delos.” He laughed, shaking his head back and forth as he moved back toward you, reaching out with both arms to pull you away from the bedding and onto his lap, your protests quiet and totally for show. He ran both of his hands over your back, waiting until you’d settled with your knees on either side of his body, your hands on his chest. “Got the shot this time, Logan.” Your eyes were wide as you stared down at him. “It’s good for a month, so -” Shit.
Delos had introduced new medical products onto the market over the previous year, one of them being a new form of birth control that was offered to both male and female guests of the parks just in case they happened to interact with a human instead of a Host during their trip. You had yet to try it out, instead preferring to stick to the methods you’d been using previously both inside of the park and at home. Why now? “What made you…” He cleared his throat, mind racing. That means… His hands moved from your back to your front, pushing both breasts together without looking away from your face. “You -”
“Wanted to try it, see if I like it better.” You shrugged, leaning down. “Who knows, maybe I’ll stick with it when we go back home.” He squeezed your flesh gently as your hands moved up and into his hair, lips dropping to his ear. “You’ll have to tell me what you like better.” With a roll of your hips, you traced your tongue along the edge of his ear and Logan’s lips found one nipple, teeth following soon after as he bit down. You groaned - louder as his tongue swirled, and then Logan switched his attention to the other side of your chest, opening his eyes briefly and then closing them again as you started whispering in his ear - his name, pleas for him to keep going, and then as one of his hands made its way between your legs, you swore, pulling hard on his hair. Exactly. It was rare that Logan felt comfortable enough with a partner to go without protection, even when they were on a secondary form of birth control, but at the thought of burying himself in you with nothing between you for the first time? I can’t wait.
But he did wait, wanting to be sure that you were ready for him; one finger and then two slipping in and out of you with a practiced ease, Logan curling his fingers slightly without moving his wrist, mouth still on the skin of your chest. “You ready for me?” You nodded, patient as Logan’s lips made their way back up your neck and he removed his fingers from you, sliding the hand around to your hip and pulling your body down tight against his. “I hope so.” He kisssed you again, his hips jerking upward and causing you to cry out as he connected with the sensitive skin he’d been touching. No more. Been waiting all goddamn day for this. “Lay down.”
You were moving before he was finished speaking, trading places on the bed so that he could kneel above you, the fingers of the hand that had been touching you wrapped around himself, slowly stroking. “Logan, let me, I want…” But he shook his head, watching as your chest rose and fell, one hand resting on your stomach as the other gripped the blankets beneath you. “C’mon, Logan, I -”
“Not tonight.” He ran his tonge over his lower lip, reaching up with his free hand to push his hair back and out of his eyes, head shaking slowly back and forth. “Tonight I wanna enjoy this, what you’re… what we’re gonna…” Your eyes widened, and he could almost feel the excitement radiating from your body. She wants this, too. “You sure? There’s condoms in the drawer, they’re in every room, I -”
“If you don’t trust the shot, Logan, that’s fine, but …” Your head moved slowly back and forth, hair spread out over the pillow. “I trust it, because I trust Delos.” He felt a flash of apprehension, thinking of William’s scheming and the collection of data, but pushed the thoughts away, again focusing on you. Not tonight. Not now.
“Oh, I trust it.” He watched your eyes leave his face, your gaze focused on his hand, on the way that his wrist twisted, his thumb moving slowly over his tip. “Just wanted to ask you again.” Logan took a deep breath and then let go of himself, using both hands to widen the spread of your legs before he settled between them. Won’t matter, her legs’ll be around me in… With a smile, Logan reached down again, guiding himself to your entrance, and with a long, low groan he pushed into you, fighting not to close his eyes. Look at her face. You lost the battle, your eyes sqeezing shut and your mouth dropping open as he filled you, one hand reaching out toward him and the other gripping the bunched sheets below you tightly. Holy shit. You felt incredible, muscles tight around him, and he’d been right, one leg wrapping around his thigh and the other around his waist as Logan settled in. Fucking perfect.
The two of you found a rhythm, Logan’s body covering yours, your nails digging into his back as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, lifting you off the bed slightly, the other hand pressed into the mattress to brace himself. Logan’s past partners had wanted more from him; more than the places where their bodies had connected with his, more than the muffled moans and groans, more than the minutes of pleasure, but he’d never been willing to give it to them, at least not the way they wanted. He’d kissed his partners, sure. He’d touched them, of course, knowing that his skilled fingers and tongue were almost as high in demand as the rest of him, but with you, the bare minimum wasn’t enough, and he knew it never would be. Not again. In the span of time that he’d known you, Logan had done the impossible: he’d fallen for you, even though he didn’t know how to tell you.
He hadn’t been lying when he’d said that it had started out as simply sex, seeing you in the halls at Delos and being physically interested, but the peeks he’d gotten into your life - starting with your tattoos at the Christmas party and then your wit in the interactions you’d had at work and then on the night you’d allowed him to take you to dinner had made him more interested, and well before the night of his admission in the suite, he’d decided that he wanted more with you. So Logan kissed you at every opportunity, even as his hips were rocking against yours and you were leaving long, red marks on his back. He touched you, the grip on your shoulder anchoring the two of you together, his other arm still supporting some of his weight but the fingers of it stroking the side of your face at the same time. I want to tell her, but it’s not… I need to deal with William first. He didn’t want to complicate things, and though he knew you knew he was being faithful and you didn’t expect more, Logan wanted to give it to you nonetheless. “Fuck, Logan.” You groaned quietly, the ends of your nails moving against the back of his neck. “You feel…” I know.
Logan slowed the movement of his hips, lengthening his strokes, and you responded accordingly, meeting his thrusts with tiny ones of your own. She always… It was never a race to the finish with you, never an attempt to draw things out to impress each other; when he was with you, Logan let things happen as they were meant to, and enjoyed every second of it. He felt some lingering soreness from the horseback ride in, and knew that you’d come before he did that night; he could feel how close you were with the changes in the way your leg was wrapped around him, the grip you had on his bicep. “C’mon.” He mumbled the word against your throat, teeth grazing against the skin. “I feel it, but I wanna feel you…” His tongue dipped into the hollow at the base of your throat as you swallowed and he tasted sweat, even though it was still chilly in the room. You’re right there, I know it, I… He was taken by surprise as you moved the leg that was around his thigh and planted your foot on the mattress, moaning out his name, and Logan felt his tightly wound body snap, emptying himself inside of you with a few more faltering thrusts of his hips as he bit down on your shoulder, teeth sure to leave a bruise that no one would see beneath the embedded ink. Fuck.
It only took a few more seconds - he thought it might have had something to do with the jolt of pain from his bite - and then you came too, muscles seizing around him, the leg that was still holding him in place going limp. “Jesus, Logan, I…” You were beathless, lying beneath him, and though spent, Logan refrained from pulling out of you, focusing on the slickness he felt, the heat between your bodies. “Get offa me, Delos, I wanna…” He groaned, taking a deep breath and then, even as he slid out of you for the final time, Logan sighed out your name, rolling onto his back and reaching for the drawer on the table, where he knew that a stack of folded handkerchiefs would be waiting. Standard issue Westworld. He handed you the first one and then pulled out another for himself, and the two of you spent a few minutes cleaning up before he rolled onto his side, waiting for you to do the same.
Neither of you made any move to get beneath the blankets, and as Logan stared at you in the still-bright moonlight, he smiled, reaching out to run his fingers over your shoulder, the faint indentations of his teeth still present. “I’m sorry, I got…” You laughed, moving closer to him and returning your hand to his side, stroking over the skin atop his ribs. “You’re a surprise.” You smiled, half of your face hidden by the pillow. “You know that, right? I never -”
“Gonna get sappy on me now, Logan?” He watched a you widened your eyes in mock surprise, pinching his skin. “Was it really that good for you?” He laughed too, threading his fingers through your hair and pulling your face back to his, muttering the words “shut up” before he kissed you soundly, tongue gently prodding your lips for a brief second before it entered your mouth again. Maybe I am. “Damn, Delos.” You sighed as the two of you separated, both of your heads falling back onto the pillows, eyes still on each other. “If this is how it’s gonna be, I’ll keep getting that shot, Logan.” You yawned and the movement of your hand slowed, but Logan didn’t speak again, instead just watching you as you drifted off. “Blanket, Logan.” You sighed but made no move to reach for it, and Logan instead sat up, pulling the blanket over the two of you without bothering to get dressed. Won’t matter, we’ll just be taking everything off again in the morning. “G’night.” You yawned again, and beneath the blanket, you moved even closer to him, tucking your forehead in against his neck, cheek pressed to his chest. Goodnight.
In the time before he fell asleep, Logan was only dimly aware of his own body’s movement, the arm not trapped beneath his body winding around you to hold you close.
---
He’d been right about waking up. After what seemed like only a few short hours of sleep (but had actually been the whole night), you’d woken Logan, your hands exploring his body, and before getting dressed and heading downstairs, you’d tired each other out again, this time by the warm rays of the early morning sun. Leaving the saloon, you walked across the street and to the small restaurant, settling in at a table together and letting a cheerful female Host take your breakfast order. You asked for coffee, but Logan reached out, his fingers wrapping around the woman’s arm as she left the table. “Can we get a pitcher of water, please?” She nodded once at him, her eyes moving over his face before she turned and stepped away. Logan returned his attention to you, rolling his shoulders and tilting his head from side to side to loosen his neck. She needs it. “You need to drink water, and a lot of it. If they’re gonna take you out, who knows…” He swallowed. “You get thirsty real quick out there.”
His mind wandered back to the days he’d spent in the desert with William, the days he’d spent there after William had left him, wishing for water and hoping for death. It’s just a game, for her, but still… “Of course, Logan.” You reached out and squeezed his hand. “That’s smart.” You talked over breakfast, but Logan was distracted, both by you and lingering thoughts of William, as well as by the aching of his muscles from his time in bed with you. What is wrong with me? “Want to go for a walk, I can introduce you to the Sheriff, and…” He was grinning, up and out of his seat at your words, a hand extended. You took it, smiling back at him, and within a few minutes, you were walking down the street again, the sun blazing down even though it was barely midmorning. “Sheriff's right down here, we -” You gasped as you pointed, your eyes on the hills at the end of the street. “They’re coming, Logan, it’s…” He turned to look at you, hearing the excitement in your voice. “I can see the dust rising, the horses…”
His heart pounding, Logan did the only thing he could think of - he pulled you in and kissed you, a hand on the back of your head, the other settled low on your back as your hands pressed against his chest. It’s just a game, but… When he pulled back, you were smiling at him, but he saw the surprise in your eyes at his behavior, and he was almost sure it was mirrored in his own. Who am I and what have I done with Logan Delos? He released you as the sound of hooves became louder, and the two of you turned to look in the direction of the noise, along with others that were on the street. He watched the two horses, their feet kicking up dust as they stormed in, and before he could even react, the animals had stopped in front of the two of you, one of the men dismounting and pointing his gun at you. Shit.
Logan’s hand went to his waist, fingers twitching over the butt of his gun, but he watched you shake your head, eyes wide. “No, Logan.” You swallowed, playing along, one hand held upto halt his movement. “It’s alright, they warned me…”
“She’s comin’ with us.” Logan noticed for the first time that the man still on horseback was pointing his gun at him, and as his eyes moved back and forth, he felt a slight tightness in his chest. Just a game. She’s not in danger. “My partner’s gonna toss you a rope, and you’re gonna tie her hands together.” The gun didn’t waver from where it was pressed to your neck, but Logan watched as you fought not to whimper, knowing that it would cause him to take action. “An’ then she’s gonna get on this horse with me, and we’re gonna ride up into the hills and see the Boss.” A coil of rope fell at his feet, and Logan glanced around, watching as the people and the other Hosts looked on, none of them even thinking about interfering. “I said tie her.” Logan finally heard you gasp at the sound of the gun cocking, and he bent down, picking up the rope. This isn’t gonna go over well, this is too intense, no one’s going to… “Both wrists, make it good, cowboy.”
“I’ll find you.” Logan spoke quietly as he reached you, taking one wrist into his hands and then the other, knotting the rope around them tightly before he curled his fingers around your chin, forcing you to look at him. “I promise, I’ll...”
“I know.” He looked in your eyes and while you looked scared, you were still excited. “I know you will, Logan.” I don’t like this. The man on the horse instructed Logan to step back and so he did, reluctantly letting go of you. “I’ll see you soon, Logan.” He nodded, taking two more steps away from you and watching as the man holstered his gun, using one arm to lift you and waiting until you’d gripped the saddlehorn with both hands to kneel down, giving you something to brace yourself against. You put one foot in the stirrup, swinging your leg over the broad back of the black horse and he followed you, swinging easily up behind you. Logan felt disgust watching as he reached past you, taking the reins and settling his arms on either side of your body, chest pressed against your back. I don’t like this at all.
“You thinking about comin’ after her?” Logan’s attention was pulled away from you by the second man, but he only turned his head partially, keeping you visible. “Playin’ the hero?” With a laugh, he continued. “Good luck findin’ us up in those hills.” He heard you call out to him as your horse turned and began galloping out of town, and Logan caught the fear in your voice as you bounced in the saddle. I’m coming. “You come before sundown, and she dies.” Logan didn’t have a chance to speak before the second man took off after the first, the sound of hooves fading after long seconds as the three of you rode out of view. Shit, I should have… but no. She wanted to be taken, this is the narrative, she has to…
“Hey, you there.” Logan turned at the sound of the voice, noticing a man in a badge striding down the street toward him. “Who wa-” But he was cut off by the sound of more hooves, this time coming from the opposite direction. This place is fucking busy. Logan turned his head to look in the direction of the new noise - three grey horses, a single man atop each. Wait a minute… Brow furrowed, Logan watched as the three men tore through town, pausing only long enough for one of them to reach out and grab the arm of a lone blonde woman, pulling her off of the ground and onto the horse with him before they continued down the street, following the tracks of the first horses, the woman screaming loudly for help. What… Staring after the men, Logan felt himself freeze. Three men, not two.
“Who were those men?” He turned his attention back to the man with the badge, raising one hand to point. “The men on the grey horses, that grabbed …” The horses...
“Those are McCray’s men.” Adjusting the brim of his wide white hat, the sheriff shook his head. “Was tellin’ your friend about ‘em yesterday, and…” Wait, if those were… who…
“Then who…” Logan pulled his own hat off, tapping it against his hip as he felt the panic rise in his chest. “If those were… where did… who…” He shook his head, pointing. “Who the fuck were the two that…”
“I have no idea, son.” The sheriff stared at Logan, shaking his head. “Never seen ‘em in town before in my life.”
---
As always, feel free to ask to be added or removed to this tag list. No hard feelings.
When Petyr Baelish becomes unnaturally obsessed with the reader, he will stop at nothing to have her.
So, I’ve been a lot of research into the minds of criminals for my novel and from that, this fic was born. I do not own Petyr Baelish. He belongs to George R.R.Martin.
WARNINGS: OBSESSION! JEALOUSY! KIDNAPPING! ATTEMPTED MURDER! STALKING OF A SORT! MANIPULATION! AND ASSAULT(WHAT COULD BE CONSIDERED ABUSE) PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!! Oh and it’s long.
Pairings/Characters: Yandere!Petyr Baelish x fem!reader, Ros
Petyr glared from his window of the brothel. You were passing through once again, but that’s not why he was glaring. No, it was the person you were with. Petyr didn’t want to see you with anyone else. He wanted you to be his and his alone. He wasn’t sure when this obsession began but he knew he had to have you. You were going to be his. No matter what.
Petyr left the window, already plotting his next move in his head. He swept passed the whores he employed and their patrons. He had one goal in mind. Outside the brothel, Petyr let his careful gaze search for his prey. He found you quickly and almost smiled. Until he saw Jory Cassel place a kiss to your cheek. The sudden surge of jealousy that coursed through Petyr was too much. He had to do something and fast. But what?
The brothel keep knew he couldn’t attack Jory right there without provocation. That would only lead to Ned Stark having him beheaded or thrown in the dungeons. If that happened, you’d be lost to him forever, just like Catelyn. He had to play this one smart. Get Jory away from you without casting suspicions on himself. A smirk grew on his face as a plan formed in his mind. He knew just what to do; he only needed to bide his time.
He wouldn’t have to wait long. When Ned started asking around about Robert’s bastards and Catelyn had taken Tyrion Lannister prisoner, Petyr got his chance. He would use Jaime Lannister and the gold cloaks to rid himself of Jory Cassel and take you for his own.
*time skip*
Just as Petyr predicted, Jaime took care of Jory Cassel for him. The Stark’s guard was now dead and Petyr was free to pursue you. Except you wanted nothing to do with him. When news of Jory’s death had reached you, you shut yourself away from the world. You refused to see anyone except Ned and his daughters and Petyr was getting impatient. There was only one course of action left. He was going to take you whether you wanted to come or not.
"Just bring her to me, Ros,“ he ordered the redhead and continued, "Bring her to me, unharmed, and you will only have the finest patrons from now on.” Ros simply nodded and went on her way. She knew better than to argue with him. He helped her rise from the whore of Winterfell to one of the most sought after companions in King’s Landing. She would always do what he said.
Ros returned a few moments later, with you in her arms. The glare on Petyr’s face was enough to kill. “What. Happened?” he seethed. He was quickly losing control, seeing you unconscious like that. “We were set upon by a few gold cloaks, milord. They hit her hard before I could stop them.” Petyr wasted no time in taking you from Ros and carrying you to his chambers. You would rest there for now.
"What’s so important about her?“ Ros asked, having followed Petyr. Petyr whirled on the whore and grabbed her throat. "I told you to bring her to me unharmed, Ros.” Ros tried to explain again, but Petyr let her go and shooed her away. “Out. I wish not to be disturbed for the rest of the night.” Ros didn’t have to be told twice.
Petyr turned back to you and sat next to you on the bed. He ran his fingers over your face and through your hair. He took his time memorizing your features so that, even when he wasn’t with you, he could still see your face clearly. Not that he’d be away from you often anymore. He had you where he wanted you and that was where he would keep you from now on.
Surprisingly, it didn’t take you long to wake up. A slight groan made Petyr put some distance between you. He didn’t want to scare you right away. Your (e/c) eyes opened slightly. “Where am I?” you whispered. Petyr cleared his throat. “You are in my establishment, my dear Y/N.” You blinked as you moved to sit up. “How did I get here?” Petyr took a moment to decide what to say. Should he make himself out to be a hero? Or should he tell you at least part of the truth of what happened? He wouldn’t get the chance to make a choice.
"Wait. That redhead I was with. Ros? She’s one of your girls! Y-You…" you trailed off, giving Petyr a chance to take back the upper hand. “She is. I sent her to you as a friend. I heard what happened to Jory Cassel and wanted to know that you were alright.” Your eyes narrowed.
"I don’t believe you, Lord Baelish. You never do anything for anyone unless it benefits you. You had her kidnap me!“ you cried, jumping up. It was obvious to Petyr that your head was still swimming when you swayed and plopped back down on the bed. "I assure, Y/N, that I care only for your well being,” Petyr cooed, his voice akin to honey. You glared again.
"I. Don’t. Believe. You,“ you said again, putting emphasis on every word, "You’re a snake, Littlefinger. You’ve always been a snake.” You stood again on steadier feet and made for the door. Petyr’s hand shot out as he grabbed your wrist. You looked at him with pure venom in your eyes. “Let me go.” You wrenched your hand out of his and tried the door. Locked.
Petyr’s smile was predatory as you turned to face him. “You will let me out. NOW!” Petyr stalked toward you. You could only compare him to a lion stalking its prey. “You are safer here than in the Keep, Y/N. I have the means and power to protect you now that Jory cannot. Don’t you think he would want you protected?”
Realization dawned on you. Petyr could see it in your expression. “It was you. You had him killed.” Petyr was standing right in front of you now. Your back was pressed into the locked door as tears formed in your eyes. “You monster,” you whispered. Petyr chuckled. “There are much worse than I that deserve to be called monster, Y/N. I simply wish to protect you. I couldn’t do that with Jory in the way.”
"Let me go. Please,“ you whimpered. Petyr shushed you while reaching out to tuck a strand of (h/c) hair behind your ear. He leaned in and whispered, "You cannot leave. I won’t let you.” He could feel you shaking so he was surprised when he felt himself being pushed away. Your hand came up and slapped him across the cheek. “I demand you let me go this instant!”
When Petyr denied you again, you flew at him. You attacked him with every ounce of strength you possessed. With every hit you demanded that he let you go. Petyr finally caught both your wrists in his hands, stilling your movements. His eyes were flashing with rage; a rage that only you had been able to bring out of him. “This is your last chance, Y/N. You will obey.” Shrieking at the top of your lungs, you brought a knee up into his stomach. He let you go and you turned tail.
You barely made it back to the door when you felt his hand come around your throat. He pulled you away from the door and practically threw you on the bed. He stood over you, panting and enjoying the fear in your eyes. Fear made people listen. Fear made people obey. “You’re mine, Y/N. I have made it so.” You shook your head in defiance.
"I will never be yours. This obsession of yours is sick.“ Petyr stared down at you for a moment. Didn’t you understand? Why were you being so uncooperative? But what you said next completely made him lose control. "I cannot wait to see them behead you for this. You’re mad!”
Once more, Petyr’s hand made it way to your throat. If you wouldn’t be his, you wouldn’t be anyone’s. After a moment, however, he decided he couldn’t look at your face. He grabbed a pillow and placed it over your face. You thrashed and tried to call out for help. Petyr simple held you still. He wasn’t going to let you leave alive.
When you had stopped fighting Petyr began to lift the pillow just as the door burst open and Petyr felt himself being dragged off of you. To his surprise, it was Ros that approached you. She leaned over you and whispered something that Petyr couldn’t hear. He was too busy fighting off the guards holding him and screaming at Ros about how she betrayed him.
"The girl?“ one of the guards asked when Petyr quieted down. Ros shook her head. "I-I don’t know. She’s not breathing.” Another guard scooped you up in his arms and carried you out of the room, prompting Petyr to start crying out again. He continued to call out your name as he was escorted to the dungeons of the Red Keep.
Petyr had no clue how long he was down there. Long enough to start hallucinating. Every time he closed his eyes, he pictured your face. He saw you accepting him. He saw kisses and caresses. He heard your voice. He could smell your unique scent. It was intoxicating to him, but he knew it wasn’t real because he couldn’t reach out an hold you.
"Littlefinger,“ a sharp voice cried, snapping out of his latest fantasy, "You got a visitor.” Petyr arched a brow. No one ever visited him. He looked up and, through the bars, he could see the face he’d been dying to touch. “Y/N,” he whispered as he got up to move closer. He was stopped by the chain attached to his ankle. “They’ve decided to execute you tomorrow,” you told him. There was not one bit of emotion in your voice as you said it.
"At your behest, I imagine.“ You held your head high. "Oh, Y/N, you look so radiant. So powerful. It’s why I chose you.” You didn’t respond the way he wanted. “I merely came to tell you that I will be standing there watching when the sword comes down on your neck, Littlefinger. I will watch as they take your head and after that? I shall never think of you again. Your memory will fade from my mind and then I will think on this no more.” With that, you turned on your heel and left him alone again.
Petyr watched you go, a smirk on his face. He would find a away to escape his fate, as he had done many times before. And when he did, he would take you again. He would take you as far from King’s Landing, from Westeros, as he could. You would be his in the end. It was only a matter of time. After, when Petyr Baelish became obsessed, he never rested until he got what he wanted.
That's the tea: I loved the sequel about the reader's brother and mob!tom and I had a littpe idea about the little boy being kidnapped and the only one that Tom counts on is the boy's uncle and when Tom calls him he just comes there and they go bring the boy back and at the end the little boy says his dad's name (which makes his uncle cry even if he wanted to hear his name tho)💖💖
Based off these: x x
The amount of mob!Tom in my ask box right now makes my heart fullllll. So there’s some sort of… graphic beating towards the end. If this will be a problem, please don’t read.
Tom’s heart stops when you scream for him. He rushes to you and rather than finding you with a little one on your hip and the need to kill a bug or something, he finds you stood in front of an open window, curtains billowing and an empty crib. You turn to him,
“Matteo’s gone.” Those two words shook him to the core. Your eyes haunted him and in that moment he had no idea what to do. But then it hit him. Your brother. Lorenzo, your brother will be just as furious, just as heartbroken as the both of you. So he calls. Within hours, Lorenzo is rushing towards your house. He’s collecting you and Tom in his arms, but you arent having any of it,
“You both need to get out there and find my little boy. Bring him back safe and make whoever took him fucking suffer.” Tom and Lorenzo are dead set on keeping their word to you. Tom wants to make someone pay for taking his little boy as much as you do. So they set out to find him. But it doesn’t take long. Come to find out, a French mobster Tom and Lorenzo have both had problems with has been spotted around your property. Tom just knows its him and he plans on exacting his revenge.
Once they’ve inside the mobster’s house, Lorenzo and Tom make a pact. If either finds Matteo, they are to get him out to a safe place. If they find Jacques, the French mobster, they are to snap his neck. They split up and Lorenzo is the first to find Jacques where there’s a heated argument over where Matteo is.
Tom however, is sly. He knows exactly where Matteo is in the mansion because he’s studied Jacques’s mansion. He knows of all the secret doors and walls. So searching through all of the ones he knows, he finds a specific one that opens to little Matteo standing on the little mattress, curious, wide brown eyes staring up at him under a mop of messy brown curls you can’t bring yourself to cut now that he’s almost two. Little, pudgy hands reach out to Tom and he finds himself crying as he lifts your perfect little boy from the intricate French crib.
He kisses his little cheeks despite Matteo’s whining and holds him close to his chest, going to find Lorenzo. When he does, his anger is fully built up. He just hands his little boy off,
“Tom-”
“Get Matteo out of here. I need a word with Jacques here.” Lorenzo knows that Tom won’t tell him again. He knows Tom will start hurting and he won’t let up until Jacques is dead. So Lorenzo takes Matteo and goes to the car he and Tom came in,
“Your mother was worried sick about you little one. And your daddy… your daddy would do anything to make her happy again. Not that he doesn’t love you but… seeing her upset about you is enough to kill Jacques with his bare hands.” And Lorenzo us completely right. Tom at this point has already broken all ten of Jacques’s fingers and is beating him to a pulp. His knuckles are busted and he’s covered in blood, hands meeting broken teeth each time he descends. But whoever finds Jacques needs to know that the Hollands are not to be fucked with. Tom isn’t to be fucked with.
By the time he comes out, Lorenzo is offering him a cloth to wipe his hands. Tom winces as the cuts from Jacques’s teeth are grazed, but he could care less. The look in your eyes. The way you cried in his arms. The way you were ready to rip up the country… the world to find Matteo is what broke him. It’s why he seemingly went overboard with killing Jacques.
“Think you overdid it?” Lorenzo asks. Tom looks to him after a moment,
“You told me that if I didn’t protect your sister… if your sister wasn’t happy with me… with how her life turned out, you’d kill me. If I’d left our little one any longer, if he’d died, it would have killed her. And you wouldn’t have had to kill me. I would’ve killed myself for putting her through that.” Lorenzo is speechless, and he knows Tom is being honest. He knows that now more than ever. Ever since he proposed to you.
Tom knows that if they keep you waiting any longer, you’ll kill the both of them. So he hooks Matteo into the carseat, himself and Lorenzo sitting either side of the giggly, little grabby handed boy.
The second the limo is pulling into the driveway you’re rushing out to meet them. Tom opens his door and you break down into sobs, cradling Matteo as close to your chest as you can, the little boy hugging you back. As you sob, loud cries tumbling past your lips, Tom hugs you both into him, tears of his own falling. Lorenzo rounds the car and then it’s the four of you just standing so so close, cuddled into each other and making this protective little best around little Matteo.
“I love you… so much… and I’ll never… let you out of my sight again.” You heave down at your baby boy. You kiss his forehead and Tom leads you back up to the house, a hand on the small of your back. You stand in the kitchen, Matteo watching Tom pace the room as if there’s something to be done. He knows there is though. There needs to be more security at all times. There needs to be protection around Matteo and you always. Matteo is so focused on his pacing daddy, you’re convinced he’s worried. His arm twitches, draped over yours and he reaches towards Tom,
“Dada.” He gasps out. He’s said it before. Not that Lorenzo, who stands in the doorway has heard, but he’s said it. Tom has coerced him into it through months of training. He repeats to no avail and you kiss his little temple,
“Can you say Tom?” You whisper. You lean in, bouncing Matteo gently,
“Say Tom. Call daddy. Say it… say Tom.” You’ve said his name in front of your son so much it’s a wonder he hasn’t been saying it for months. But just loud enough, in perfect harmony, Matteo practically screams it,
“Tom!” Your husband pauses and frowns before looking over to you wide eyed. You giggle,
“Good boy… that’s my good boy. You said daddy’s name. You’re amazing baby.” Tom rushes over, gathering your little one in his arms, kissing his pudgy cheek. Matteo snuggles into Tom’s chest, head laid over his heart as Tom silently cries,
“He said it… he said my name.” You nod,
“I know Tom. He’s amazing.” Matteo repeats his father’s name, bunching Tom’s shirt in his tiny fist. Lorenzo tsks behind you, tears glistening in his eyes at the rest of his family. The only thing he has left. He’s never seen Tom cry and now here he is, with a family he was convinced he’d never have.
“He was supposed to say his uncle’s name first.” You scoff,
“As if he could pronounce Lorenzo at two.” He smiles, stepping forward again to hug the three of you,
“Saying Lo is easier than saying Tom. Uncle Lo.” You smile, leaning into your brother who, months ago, years ago hated your husband. Loathed him and wished him dead. And now here they are, being the best of friends, business partners, brothers. The love they had for each other that was brought along by you and Matteo was immeasurable. They would deny it for the sake of their reputation, but this little family, this little family was home. And neither would give it up for the world.
Those eyes that damn him, they follow him everywhere.
Those eyes trail off after him as he moves around the flat, those eyes that he loves to see staring up at him as the walls shake. Damnable eyes that only make him hesitate by the door, boots lined up on the runner you placed to try to stop mud.
Eyes that burned deep into his heart, mind and soul, even when he’s gone. The eyes of his wife that he can see in the back of his mind on deployments, eyes that strike deep when Simon knows he’s being a shite.
“You’re leaving again?” Your voice calls out to him as you take the same path he had toward the front door. Simon doesn’t need to turn to see you, he doesn’t need to look at you to know you feel small.
He knows you have your arms wrapped around your waist to shield yourself from the loss of him. Just as he knows you wear his shirts because they make you feel safe, and you like smelling like him. Even when he’s gone for weeks, months, even when you’re blindly unaware that he gorges himself on other women.
“Have to.” Simon speaks the word with neutrality, a lack of emotion that could indicate he felt anything apart from duty to his job. To the SAS. To Price.
“You just got back.” You follow him, bare feet padding against the floor. While Simon certainly doesn’t let his emotion’s affect the tone of his voice, you had never had the ability not to let your feelings bleed through.
Even now. He can sense almost everything you’re feeling through your voice.
Worry. Longing. Fear. Love. Devotion. Anxiety.
“I have to go.” Simon lifts his head and stares at you, brown eyes boring into the image of you. At his feet are his boots, ready and laid out, and to his right is his rucksack, already loaded with everything he needs. “Price called us all back.”
“I was hoping…” you draw yourself closer, you’re trying not to let yourself get worked up by the departure he’ll be making. But Simon can see it, he can see the way your beautiful eyes shift, the emotions that waver.
“I was hoping we could have more time. I wanted to go out with you, I wanted…” there it is, the emotional range of someone soft and empathetic like you, the darling wife he leaves behind.
Soft, tender, so damn caring. And Simon knows that you would miss him desperately like the good wife you are. He knows damn well that you will call him as often as you can, that you’ll think about him every night when you go to sleep. You’ll steal his shirts and hoodies, you’ll lie in bed with his pillow held to your chest because he’s your husband.
Simon feels it, the desperation and the loss of him already. He feels it just as clearly as he feels that arrogance, the greed that makes him chase women who aren’t his wife, women that he didn’t make vows to.
“Can’t.” Simon’s attention falters to that ring on your finger, the diamond set upon a well-made band that marks you as his.
On his finger is a simple ring to match, the symbolism of a marriage that you desire, deeply. The vows that were exchanged along with rings, the bond that you both made that should last a lifetime. You don’t know that Simon takes that ring off and tosses it to the side when he chases those random fucks.
He takes advantage of your love and trust in him because you’re his wife, and he knows you’ll be waiting for him. He knows those random women he fucks, the legs he spreads, are nothing but some momentary pleasure he chases. Simon knows that you will be waiting for him, and maybe that’s what gives him this kind of sick and twisted enjoyment.
Icarus, flying too close to the sun, is pushing every limit he can.
“Call you when I can.” Simon slips on his boots and picks up his bags, throwing the heavy strap around his shoulder.
“I love you.” There you stand, wearing nothing but his shirt, still bearing the marks of his tongue on your neck. Simon knows that the product of his love has likely not dried on the sheets of your bedroom, something you will deal with later. “Simon…”
“I know, lovie.” Simon cups your chin and tilts your head back, slating his lips against yours in a kiss. The physical display of affection, the goodbye that is exchanged, isn’t passionate or intense. Not on his part at least, it’s quick because it has to be.
Simon steps outside the flat he shares with you, and he can feel those eyes on him even through the door.
Those damnable eyes that burn holes into his back. Eyes that should have been enough to make him change courses.
He sits across from the bed in a wooden chair that could buckle from the age that wears it down. There’s almost complete silence in the room that feels off-putting and deafening, nothing to quell the stillness of the room—save for the soft ticking of the clock hanging on the wall.
The door is shut tight, sealing out the noise from the rest of the house, acting like a barrier to keep you locked din here. Simon never takes his eyes off the bed you’re lying on, nor does he shift from the guard post he had given himself. He sits there as if he’s carved of stone perched on the cliffs of some cathedral, watching over the city.
Instead of pious and faithful patrons, it’s his wife that he guards. There is no greater role for him than being here to watch you, to guard you as you breathe. He will sit here and wait until the sedation wears off, and then he will prepare himself for the hell that will follow.
Simon’s not a fool nor is he an idiot, he is well aware that you will be roused eventually, and you will be pissed off.
He’s preparing himself for the downfall his pretty little wife will inflict on him. It’s only a manner of good planning and careful thought that placed the hunting rifles and handguns in a safe, only accessible by the 141 and Mrs. Price. Simon knows that if you had the chance, you would likely shoot him, you were certainly going to be pissed enough to.
Simon waits and watches. Those cold, searing brown eyes of his will not shift from the bed, not even for a moment does he dare to look away from you. If he does, he fears that you’d disappear from his very eyes, and he sits. He waits, as if there could be an undoing of everything he has done to you.
So Simon sits and waits. He prepares.
It takes no more than half an hour after he had entered the room for you to start moving and shifting on the bed. He watches, his brown eyes that filter through the holes in his Skelton mask, and beneath that balaclava, take in your form.
Hell, is the world outside.
And you are the angelic creature that he had captured for himself, the glimmer of beauty and delicateness that is cast upon terror unfolding beyond your reach. You are his wife, a breathtaking person with a soul too kind and too gentle for a man such as hm—yet he will never be able to let you go.
“I’m going to kill you.” There is a promise of violence, the threat that breaks the silence of the room. Your voice is quiet as you utter such a threat, nearly indistinguishable if Simon hadn’t been paying proper attention.
“Mornin’, Mrs. Riley.” He sits there on that wooden chair across from the bed, still garnishing that reinforced tactical vest and all his gear. If you were to look now, you would expect him to be heading to war instead of guarding his spouse. “Threatnin’ your husband this early in the morning, lovie?”
“Fuck you.” The blankets shift and move, and Simon is watching you as you sit up, bracing your upper half on your left arm. “What did you do to me?”
Simon doesn’t move, he doesn’t shift. No, he watches you as you turn your head and take in every inch of this room. This room that is yours, and his. It’s large and spacious, as much as it can be, in a shared and secure compound. There’s an attached to the bedroom, plain, and simple yet enough to please his wife.
“Extraction. Securing a target. Getting’ you the hell out of the city before it burns to the fucking ground.” Simon speaks, and he catches your attention, your eyes that are still gorgeous and captivating, have narrowed in anger. ’S’tha’ a problem, takin’ care of my wife?”
There’s a fire in your irises that burns with passion, passion that he would have loved to experience while you tremble beneath him. But Simon knows that if he draws near enough, you will strike him.
“We’re not married anymore.” Your voice drips with disdain, and Simon finally stands. He finally rises to his feet and closes the distance between the two of you, knowing full well that you will try to attack him.
A consequence for actions, some that he will gladly embrace to the full extent. He was a gobshite fool, a damned idiot for taking advantage of the wife he left behind, for trying to chase tail when he could have just returned to you.
Pity, then, that it took the supposed apocalypse for him to realize it. When the world as they knew it had started to burn, when hell on earth had seemingly been unleashed, was the moment Simon knew.
“Says who, Mrs. Riley?” He mocks you with your married last name, and that addition makes you hiss a curse under your breath. “Courts say you’re mine.”
“You and the courts can go to hell.” You speak with spite that shields and covers the lingering affection you hold for him. “The legal system has failed, everything is fallen apart-“
You are pissed off. You’re livid to the tenth fucking degree, and Simon doesn’t blame you. How can he blame his sweet wife for being such an aggressive and hissing hellcat, ready to strike him? Simon fucked up, he damn well knew he did, and he had to right that all.
“And you are still mine.” He knows you’ll strike him with everything you have, he damn well knows that you will take your anger out on him.
That doesn’t stop him from leaning down and pressing the weight of his hands against the mattress. He can’t feel the material through the gloves that cover his hands, that protect his skin, yet he can feel your warmth. Simon can slowly inhale the perfume that he loves you wearing, and he can draw himself closer to the woman he voted himself to.
“Get the hell away from me!” You react how he expects, and in part, he is impressed when you swiftly launch your leg at him—driving your heel right into the square of his chest.
The force sends him away from you, not causing him any sense of physical harm, but enough of a deterrent that he recoils and stands up. Your eyes burn with indignation and animosity, another flare of passionate emotion that drives him crazy.
Simon gives you the space you want, the space you need, yet he doesn’t leave the room. He draws himself away from you and stands between the bed and the door, still keeping you locked in here with him.
“Impressed by the fight you have, darling. Didn’t expect you to kick me-“
“I should shoot you, you prick.” You reach for the pillow behind your head and throw it at him, the soft feathers trapped between cotton, does nothing but bounce off his body. “Who gave you the right to do this, huh? To kidnap me?”
“Half the bloody city is torn apart, militia’s taken over the police force. Military is being eliminated and disbanded, hell is in London. You think I’d leave ya there?” Simon keeps that air of neutrality about him as he speaks, as if he’s talking to a soldier and not the woman he still loves.
“I filed for divorce.” he doesn’t expect you to stay in bed, and you don’t. You climb off the mattress and disband yourself from the clutch of blankets, moving with intense purpose to the window.
You look out through the reinforced and bulletproof glass, analyzing the surrounding area. Nothing but thick clusters of trees that obscure anything and everything but the immediate area from view. He watches you while you fixate your glare upon the glass in front of you, letting you absorb the nature of what happened.
“Where the fuck are we?” When you whip your head around to stare him down, expecting answers, Simon says nothing. He simply steps aside and opens the door for you, giving you an invitation to leave the room. “Simon, cut the bullshit-“
There are voices that filter through the open door, voices that you would recognize and others not. Simon holds out his hand for you in mock welcome, cold brown eyes waiting for you to move, to react. He stands by the door, he doesn’t block you from moving and exploring like he knows you want to.
And you do. You move cautiously and calculatingly toward the door, stepping and stopping on the threshold. Simon is waiting, watching, observing.
“Mrs. Riley is awake.” That is all Simon speaks, an announcement that draws more clatter from the lower floor. “Go on then, lovie.”
He expects you to dart forward and crash down to the lower floor like a caged animal being given the chance at freedom. He expects you to react with a visceral and natural speed, instead you take him by surprise.
You don’t rush, but move cautiously. You inch forward, preparing yourself for something to happen, for some tripwire to be activated or sirens blaring that make your ears bleed. Simon is impressed, if nothing else, about how cautious and careful his darling wife is being.
7 months between your departure from the marriage and now, had certainly done you good—by your wits, anyway. You were crafty, a smart little doll that Simon was still craving and held unyielding desire for.
Eventually, you hit the staircase. Your feet carry you down to the lower floor, the bottom of the staircase coming to an open concept space. There is a kitchen, large and almost industrial, and a living room set up with multiple couches and an entertainment centre that sits near a fireplace. There is a staircase on the other side of the shared common area, leading up to a pathway and balcony.
Simon knows that behind that staircase are additional bedrooms, one for Price and Mrs. Price and one for Gaz and his partner. He knows everything there is to know about this place they’re in, the intention behind the design and every room, every inch, was designated for this kind of hell.
Someplace safe designed and made for them, and their significant others.
“She lives!” Johnny calls from one of the couches, grinning like he was nothing more than charming—rather than being the arsehole that helped Simon secure you. “Sleep well, Mrs. Riley?”
“Simon, what the hell is this place?” You ignore Johnny and turn to face him, your ex-husband dressed for war, who prevents you from going back upstairs.
“Someplace safe.” It isn’t Simon that responds to you, it’s John—giving you a two worded answer to a question that only gives way to more inquiries.
“Home.” Simon finally answers, taking advantage of your state of surprise to raise your hand in order to slip that ring back on your finger.
Simon’s eyes fall to the cut of the stone on that band, and the corner of his lips rise when the overhanging light catches the diamond set in the centre—exactly where it belongs on your hand.
There’s a mark where his ring had once sat, not just lacking a tan like the rest of him, but physically marked. The ring that had been there was a symbol of what he had, of what he was going to gain again. The ring was simple and silver, engraved with his initials on the inside, nearby yours with a little heart between.
It was the symbol of what he had waiting for him at home while he was gone, thrown into the thick of war and terror. Bullets fired upon him, threats of possible evisceration through torture or even missing limbs from explosives.
He was a soldier, a special services lieutenant who had carved out a name for himself. The cold-hearted bastard who had hidden his identity behind a skull and balaclava, committing himself to war. Chaos. Blood.
But at home, his little wife was waiting. Simon repeatedly told himself that everything he had done was for you, was for the wife he left behind. The wife with, seemingly, an unlimited amount of patience that had supported Simon. The woman he had exchanged vows with and promised to love for the rest of his life, through sickness and in health.
Simon had taken advantage of what he had waiting for him. There was always more chaos than could be handled, an endless revenue of work for men like them, men who were carved and shaped by war. Men who calculatingly ran into gunfire and terror, who had extinguished lifeblood from vile men. It was their jobs, they built their careers on being good soldiers, on being men who followed orders as they were given.
Simon had left behind his wife, his darling was back in the UK, sitting and waiting patiently. And he was the bastard who did nothing but take advantage of that love, who had grown colder and more calculated with what he wanted.
While his little wife was at home waiting dustily for him, Simon began to take what he wanted, wherever he wanted. There was no limit to the hunger he had felt, to the power and rush he had gotten from taking any and every woman who wanted him to bed.
He ignored the vows that bound him to you, he had thrown the ring off his finger to the nightstand in those cheap motels. Simon fucked himself exhausted with women he would never see again while he was gone, and return home to you when he was given time off.
He was a royal bastard who had everything he could have wanted, everything other soldiers, other men, would have died for. He never expected his darling and doting wife to not just find out but to take actionable measures.
Simon knew he fucked up when he had received the divorce papers on his desk the first day he returned to base. He knew that his marriage to his beautiful wife was over in your eyes the moment he was served.
Simon flew too close to the sun, and it burned him fucking alive.
*************************************
The door closed behind you with a gentle click, the lock quick to follow. You stood with your back pressed against the wood, keys in your right hand, and phone in the other. The screen loaded on your phone was displaying an article about the tensions between countries that were threatening to boil over, and the risk to the world as a whole.
While it had felt like nothing new to hear of turmoil that was a worldwide threat, it had come at a time when it truly felt like the apocalypse. Every day there was something new that affected everything you knew as a regular citizen—people had gone missing, diseases were wiping out entire populations of people, chaos was reigning.
It was unending. There was little faith in the government and its leaders, and those with the most access to wealth were quickly being taken out by vigilantes. Money could save none of them, lawlessness was becoming the norm. Through it all, you had managed to secure yourself well enough in the area that was rising with crime.
You had taken a step away from the door when your phone buzzed, another blaring article and another prominent figure that had gone missing. You raised the screen to your eyesight and felt your stomach twist, the prime minister of the United Kingdom was found deceased—parliament stripped.
The news that flashed upon the screen shouldn’t have made you feel as anxious as it had, and yet, your nerves felt fried. Everywhere, absolutely everywhere, was affected by something. Fires, plagues, diseases, war, famine…
“Shit.” You lowered your phone and stepped further into your studio flat, a small place that was a startling difference to the place you shared with Simon.
Your ex-husband and the marriage that you once loved seemed as if it ended decades ago, rather than ending only 7 months. And how far had things fallen since the end of your marriage, since you had filed for divorce and Simon was served. It was an improbable snowball turned avalanche, that seemed indelibly maddening.
Simon was served with papers while he was on base, and hadn’t been given the time to respond. It seemed as soon as he was back on base receiving the divorce papers, he was recalled back to active duty. You had only heard about the deployment after Johnny had texted you, telling you that Simon would be unreachable.
The deployment was meant to be simple, locate a target and eliminate them. It was supposed to be easy and quick; however, things rarely happened as they should. The target was eliminated like the mission had detailed, although that one kill had set off more than anticipated.
The target they had taken care of was at the head of something bigger than projected. There were biochemical weapons that were timed to be released upon his death, or so Johnny had told you. Illnesses were born, formed and worked their way through the world quicker than any disease centres could keep up with.
People grew restless, countries turned on each other, world leaders were eliminated by factions of formed militia’s—those who thought they could do better, or those who just wanted to see the government’s fall. Militaries were ordered to take control of the people with technology that was being overtaken by viruses controlled by mutual aided cyberattacks.
The world was being sent into absolute chaos and destruction. It felt like there was no turning back to what systems were in place, there was only the path toward through destruction and animosity between neighbouring countries.
“The Prime Minister and members of cabinet have all been declared deceased by an unknown militia that has taken hold of Westminster. The leader of the militia refuses to cooperate with the interim chief of defence, and any negations are at a standstill. At this time, it is unknown whether there is a chance for—“ The television blaring from the small living room had startled you, the sudden noise making your phone slip from your hand.
As it crashed to the floor, you had quickly crouched and picked it up from the floor runner by the door. Your fingers curled around the device, and you stood once more as your eyes scoped around the small flat. You hadn’t remembered leaving the television on—though you had been so exhausted in the morning when you woke that you surmised that maybe you missed it.
“—another bombing has taken place in the streets of—“ you turned the television off and tossed the remote back on the couch, watching it bounce once before you sighed. You sank onto the old cushion and stretched your legs out in front of you, your back pressing against the worn cushions.
It was silent in your studio flat, but outside, through the closed window, you heard nothing but sirens. You had been delayed coming from your job, at the hospital. The hospital wasn’t just overrun by patients, those affected by the disease and infections from that very first strain. The hospital was overrun by military personnel, victims of attacks inflicted on the government by militia’s vying for control—even over innocent people caught in the crossfires of looting and rioting.
The world is ending as we know it—the sign that was spray-painted on the exterior wall of the hospital was right. It wasn’t just a theory by a crazed madman obsessed with the end of the world, it seemed like a dire reality dangling in your face.
“Sad, innit?” The voice that infiltrated your mind and had given you so much comfort before your marriage imploded, had risen from the dark corner of your flat. “The World’s goin’ to hell, and you’re sitting in the dark alone.”
You were spurred by his voice, by the thick accent and the roughness of his voice that had once drawn you into his inescapable hold. It had been months since you had seen him, months since you filed for divorce, and he had been served—months since the start of this chaos.
He turned to face you, the glint of his dark eyes was illuminated by the sudden flash of lightning that struck in the sky. That brief glimpse of him was enough for you to see the intensity of his brown eyes, but the shadows surrounding him. The mask that obscured his face from recognition, save for the colour of his eyes, was glaringly telling about the state of the world.
Death. Destruction. Ghost.
“What are you doing here?” You stood from the couch, feet shuffling against the floor as you moved toward him. Nervous, anxious, anticipating something that might not even happen.
“Come to check on my wife.” His eyes shifted back toward the window in this studio, to the flashing of lighting and the sounds of sirens. “The World’s gone to hell.”
“We’re not married.”
“Aren’t we?” He looks back at you, still looking as imposing and deadly, a soldier built for war. “Divorce papers were never signed.”
Strong and tall, thick muscles and bulking strength behind a tactical vest. The UK flag on that thick reinforced vest was scuffed at the corners yet still retained the image of what he had once fought for.
“What are you doing here?” You ask again, inching toward him with unease and suspicion. “How did you even get in here?”
“Hellhole isn’t suited for you, love. Need somethin’ better.” Simon stands there, stark and mindful of you as you approached him. “The World’s gone to shite, the city’s’ going to be ash and rubble.”
You’re only a foot away from him now, close enough that you can see the weight he carries on his shoulders. You don’t have to ask to know that he’s not part of the SAS anymore, you can see it—the SAS is long behind him. Now he’s an ex-soldier with military training, and no military to go home to.
“Answer my question!” You raise your voice and demand the truth from a man who had kept so much from you. “What are you doing here?!”
“Coming for my wife.” Simon turned to face you, his brown eyes taking it all in, taking you all in. “Takin’ you far from this shite.”
“We’re not married anymore—“ there’s a creak behind you, floorboards that are never silent, no matter how light you try to walk.
There’s warmth and a steady body behind you, a hand covers your mouth and your scream is silenced. A point is pressed against your neck, you can hear steady breathing from whoever is holding you in place.
The needle glints in the light from the storm outside, the point held in a gloved hand. You know you only have a few minutes until you will be out for good, at the mercy of Simon.
Your ex-husband, your Simon, moves forward and crouches in front of you as whoever is helping him lays you down on the floor. Simon’s hand reaches out toward you, fingers brushing along your cheek to your jaw, tilting your head from side to side.
“Trust me, lovie…” he leans in and presses his forehead to your own. “This is for the best.”
Rating: NSFW (Talk of kidnapping, actual kidnapping, language, violence, physical abuse of a female, death)
Trigger Warnings: Kidnapping, physical abuse
Author’s Note: I debated on whether or not to go dark with this one, but I needed to in order to truly set the tone. You’ve been adequately warned, and it’s not my fault if you choose to ignore the warning or the tags and you read something you don’t like.
Summary: You’ve been taken... but by who? Will Logan figure it out - and can he find a way to get to you in time?
Though you didn’t appreciate the way the Host’s chest was pressed to your back, or the way it felt to have his arms settled against your sides as he held the horse’s reins, you tolerated it. It’s part of the narrative, meant to keep me off guard, focused on that instead of… “You know where we’re goin’?” He leaned in, speaking into your ear. “Boss is lookin’ forward to having a conversation with you.” That… You frowned, eyes darting over to where the second man was, his horse a few yards ahead and to the left of you. “Lost Spring’s a great place to go, ain’t it?”
“Yeah, it was…” You swallowed, shaking your head and glancing down at your bound hands. “I like it.” You took a deep breath, chewing on your lower lip. Get him talking, you want to learn more about this narrative, you need to… “So, aren’t there usually three of you? Sheriff told me…”
“Three? Nah. It’s just me an’ O’Conner over there.” He gestured with one hand, and your frown deepened. “We work alone, ‘seasier that way.” He must have been wrong when he told me, but…
“And the horses? He said that you guys always have gray -”
“This has been my horse since we robbed that rancher in Sweetwater couplea months ago, and that one’s been O’Conner’s since the same night.” Sweetwater? But the … The Abernathys? There’s not supposed to be a connection, these are new Hosts. You felt uneasy, but maybe the Sheriff had fed you incorrect information, maybe it was meant to not make it as easy to be rescued. Logan will find me.
“How much longer do we have until we get to… wait, what’s your name?” You turned your head to the side, teeth digging into your lip. “Gotta know what to call you, right?” The man stayed quiet, so you continued. “We’ve been riding for hours, and I don’t -”
“Tanner. You can call me Tanner.” He sighed, flicking his wrists and urging the horse faster. “An’ we’ve got a couple hours til we get to where we’re goin’.” Couple hours? That doesn’t make sense. You scanned the horizon, eyes moving without turning your head. We’re not going into the hills, we’re going… You glanced up, looking for the sun, and finding it behind you. That’s wrong, it should be overhead or to the left, it… we’re going into the desert. Heart beating faster, you stayed quiet, but you were no longer at ease. What did I get myself into?
---
Two hours later, you were still keeping pace with the sun, and if your memory served you correctly, you were headed for the Lowlands, toward the sea. What’s this way? There’s no way the Lost Springs Sheriff would come out here, this isn’t… Tanner had sidled up with O’Conner, the two men talking quietly, and though you tried to listen, you were focused on the way the sun was beating down on you, your bare shoulders on fire. I wish I had my hat. You’d thought that you and Logan would go back to your room before the narrative started, giving you a chance to pick it up, but things had happened quickly, and you’d been taken without anything covering your head. I’m going to be so burned. “We’re stoppin’ for a minute.” Tanner spoke again, pulling his horse away from the other man. “Gonna let you use the facilities if you need to before we finish this.” Finish? But you were grateful for the break, grateful to get off of the horse and stretch your legs, even if only for a few minutes.
“Thank you.” As your feet his the sand, you groaned, closing your eyes. “You don’t have any w-”
“Don’t test your luck.” Tanner was unwinding the rope from your wrists, undoing one of the knots that Logan had tied to give you use of one hand. “I’ll give you enough slack to go into that grass over there, but if you try anythin’, I’ll shoot you in the foot.” Inhaling sharply, you nodded before you moved. “Go.” You stepped quickly away from the man, though once you reached the end of the rope’s length, he followed. At least he’s giving me that, even though he said he… You thought as you squatted down, the grass reaching your shoulders, trying to come up with a solution. Though the two men hadn’t said much else to you, you knew that you hadn’t been abducted by the Hosts that you were supposed to have been taken by, which meant that someone had taken you purposely. But who? No one knows I’m here, and… I’m no one.
You would have understood if they’d taken Logan, but you? It didn’t make sense. I could take one of them down. They’re Hosts, even if they shoot at me, it won’t… But you knew that it would hurt, and if both of them shot at you at once, you’d go down to the ground, letting the other get to you. You had no weapon, no way of defending yourself aside from your hands, and you were in the middle of nowhere. Tanner called out to you and you popped your head up, letting him see that you were still where he wanted you, and then as you stood up, buttoning your pants, he pulled the rope roughly, leading you back to him. He switched places with O’Conner, and while Tanner turned away to relieve himself, you studied the second man. “You don’t talk much.” I need to figure out who sent them and why. “Tanner said -”
“Tanner knows what’s good for him, he won’t keep talkin’ to you, little lady.” The second man’s voice was low and slightly more threatening, even though his build was smaller. “We just gotta get you to the Boss and then you won’t -”
“McCray?” You stepped forward, eyes widening. Maybe. Maybe I was wrong. “You gotta get me to McCray?” Silent for a few seconds, O’Conner stared at you and then laughed, the sound harsh in your ears.
“Ghost? Nah. We wouldn’t give you over to him, he’d try an’ keep you for himself. Boss has somethin’ different planned for you.” Different? What… “He said he could give us whatever we wanted ‘s long as we made sure he gotcha.” Tanner reappeared, and you watched as he glanced upward, looking at the sun.
“Time to go. We’re supposed to be back at the campsite before dark, and we’re barely gonna make it as it is.” He looked at you, one eyebrow raised beneath the brim of his hat. “If I leave your hand free so you can hold on better, you gonna give me trouble?” You weighed your options quickly, looking between the two men, and realized that you were indeed at their mercy. I need to figure out who these people are before I …
“I won’t.” You swallowed, throat dry. “You sure I can’t have some water, though? I’ve been sitting in the sun and -”
“You’ll get water when we get to the campsite if he wants to give it to you.” Tanner pulled on the rope and you stumbled after him, swearing under your breath. “Just get back on the horse.” You did, hoisting yourself up and onto the saddle, hands going back around the knob in front of you. You felt him settle behind you again, knees digging in against your thighs as you started moving. “You have no idea what you’re in for, do you?” No, I don’t… I… “You’ll know soon enough.”
---
The sun was starting to sink ahead of you by the time Tanner slowed the horse down, a series of low whistles leaving his lips. After a few seconds, an answering whistle carried to your ears, and Tanner signaled O’Conner forward, the horses moving faster. Someone’s there. You broke through a small strand of trees, catching sight of a single figure sitting with his back to you, a small fire in front of him. “Is that -” You closed your eyes swallowing hard. “I -” They can’t hurt you. They can’t hurt you, they’re Hosts, they can’t do anything worse to you then they already have, they…
“It is.” Tanner was leaning forward again, talking quietly into your ear. “And we got you here early, so he’s gonna be happy.” The horses stopped moving, and Tanner cleared his throat, unwinding the rope again and tossing it forward. You’d stopped again, Tanner retying your wrists together so that when you arrived to their boss, you had no possibility of getting free, so the length was shorter, but it still reached halfway to the seated man, the knotted end resting on the ground in short grass and a few sticks. In the silence between you, there was only the crackling of the fire and the soft whinnying of the horses, but then Tanner spoke after clearing his throat. “Got her here to you, Boss.” He leaned in again, speaking to you. “Don’t move.” You nodded once, still wanting to see where things were headed, and felt the man dismount from behind you, though he didn’t step away from the horse.
As O’Conner moved to the ground, too, you looked between the three men, the new one still seated and facing away from you, staring at the fire. Maybe I can run, maybe I can get a gun, it’s getting dark, and… But then the third man stood and slowly turned to face you, and your blood ran cold, all thoughts of escape disappearing. “W… William?” What is he doing here? “Y-you -” The man took three steps toward you, his eyes focused on your face before he bent down, picking up the end of the rope and closing his fingers around it above the knot. As he stood back up, you watched as he smiled at you from beneath the wide black brim of his hat. He kidnapped Logan and now he’s got me.
“Surprise.” As he said the word, he yanked on the rope, and because you were caught off guard, you tumbled off of the horse, barely able to brace your fall with your forearms, and unable to keep your head and elbow from knocking against the ground. What the fuck? “You know,” William said as he pulled you across the ground by the rope, your bare arms scraping against the underbrush as you moved, head spinning and your feet dragging behind you. “This was the perfect opportunity, you coming here to catalog this new narrative, Logan having to stay behind…” He doesn’t know Logan’s here. You widened your eyes but didn’t say anything, staring up at William through watering eyes. Do not cry. “Bet I’m the last person you thought you’d see here, hmm?” William knelt next to you, finally removing his hat and setting it on the ground next to him, his hair hanging over his eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell you all about why I’m here and why you’re here. We’ve got a lot to talk about.” He leaned in, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, one hand reaching out to touch your cheek, but there was no warmth in it. “Tanner.” William looked up, fingers still on your face. “When you took her, who saw? Was she wearin’ her hat when you grabbed her?”
“Ah, Boss, she was on the street in Lost Spring, like you said she’d be, walkin’ back from breakfast.” Your eyes moved to Tanner, and you noticed that he looked a little worried, one of his hands rubbing at the back of his neck. “She was with a man, dark hair, all in black, real handsome. No hat.” You heard Willam swear, and though Tanner continued, the blonde man’s attention was back on you, his lips pressed together.
“So he is here, and he knows you got taken.” William cocked his head to the side, stroking down your cheek and to your neck with the pads of his fingers, nothing gentle about it. “Wonder how long it’ll take him to realize that you’re not where you’re supposed to be.” He probably already has, it’s been hours, he would have gone to the Sheriff, he… But why would he, you thought as you stared up at William. O’Conner said not to come til sundown, so if Logan waited, he won’t… and we’re not in the hills, he’ll never find me… “You’re figurin’ it out, aren’t you?” William grinned, his fingers closing around your shoulder. “I’m doing to him what he did to me, except …” William sucked air in between his teeth, shaking his head. “Except they can’t rebuild you.” What the fuck is he talking about? “Now.” He settled down onto both knees next to you, removing his hand from your skin and reaching into his pocket. “I figure, at the very least we have abut two days before he even comes close.” William pulled out a handkerchief and a small bottle. “And I think this first part will go much faster if you’re not awake, don’t you?”
“No, William, I -” You watched as he tilted the bottle over and onto the cloth, shaking your head back and forth. “Whatever that is, you don’t need to, it’s fine, I won’t…” But William only laughed, setting the bottle down and pulling the bandana around his neck up and over his nose, leaning in over you.
“I don’t believe you.” He shrugged, nose wrinkling. “And I’m not ready to hurt you… yet.” You screamed once before he covered your mouth and nose with the dampened cloth, closing your eyes and not even trying to hold back your tears as William pressed down. Logan, help me. Please. The last thing you saw before you lost consciousness was his face, his words echoing in your mind. I’ll find you. I promise.
---
He followed the Sheriff down the street, his hands jammed into his pockets. That wasn’t the right kidnapping, that wasn’t … she… “We have to ride out after her, we have to…” Logan could barely get the words out. “She got taken, and -”
“Son, I know she did, but we’ve got our own to worry about, and only two deputies plus myself. The McCray gang took Marilee, we’ve gotta go after her and…” They have to help her, they can’t just…
“No. You have to go after…” Logan groaned in frustration, hands moving to his hair. “You know where Marilee will be, but my… she got… you have to…” The man sighed, looking up at Logan from behind his table.
“You can see if any of the townsfolk will ride out with you and look for your woman, son, but -”
“My name is Logan Delos!” Logan slammed his hand on the table, shaking his head back and forth in anger. “And I need you to help me, now because the woman I…” He swallowed, taking a breath. “I don’t know this area, I don’t know where to…” I don’t know where to look.
“Do you have any enemies? Does she?” The Sheriff leaned back in his chair, one hand stroking his beard. “Maybe it was a kidnapping, and there’ll be a ransom note. Someone might want something -”
“We don’t know anyone here, we just got here yesterday, we…” Logan’s eyes widened, one hand going up to his face. “We barely left the room, and…” He shook his head. “There’s no one.” But there is one person. He took a breath. “Unless…” Logan snapped his fingers, tapping the tabletop. “I need a map, I need…” He shook his head. “I’ll be back.” Without another word, Logan turned and left the Sheriff’s station, nearly sprinting back to the saloon. What room? What… “Hey.” He stopped at the mail counter, the young woman behind it eyeing him intently. Not fucking now. “Yesterday, a… a woman and a man came here, rented rooms.” He paused, licking his lips nervously. “She had tattoos on her back and shoulders, and he would have been… blonde, probably about my height… I just need to know what room he was in, he’s my sister’s husband and…” The girl smiled, reaching beneath the counter and pulling out a logbook, one finger moving down the page.
Logan saw your name and then William’s, and he felt his heart beating faster. “He was in room four, but it looks like he checked out yesterday evenin’, says there’s a …” She turned away, reaching back into one of the mail slots. “Left a letter for a Logan?” He did? She held out a small envelope, the smile on her face returning. “You Logan?” Logan nodded, hand reaching out for the paper and sliding his finger beneath the back side and tearing it open. There was a single sheet of paper inside, folded around a small object, and as Logan shook it out into his hand, he felt himself freeze. “What’s it say?” The Host behind the counter leaned forward, but Logan couldn’t respond, his eyes locked on the paper and the circular disc in his other hand. Motherfucker. “Good luck?” She laughed. “Good luck with what?”
“What is this?” Though he knew what it was, Logan held up the metal, finally speaking again. “What is it?” Biting her lip, the woman shook her head, green eyes moving up to Logan’s dark ones.
“I don’t know, Logan. Doesn’t look like anything to me.”
---
Fifteen minutes later, Logan had gone back to the room, grabbing his hat and yours before going to the general store and buying two canteens, filling them both with water, and stocking up on a second pistol and extra ammo. Won’t do any good on William, but the Hosts… He led his horse out of the stables and down the main street, eyes landing on people one after the other. I can’t ask them for help, this is personal, this is… “Hey!” He stopped, raising his voice and turning in a slow circle, hoping that someone that saw him was one of the people that had been present earlier. Please. “I was with a woman earlier, and she got taken.” He reached into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. “I’ve got $100 for anyone that can tell me anything about those men or those horses, or -” He pulled the bills out, holding them in the air. “One hundred dollars cash to anyone that can help me get her back.” He stopped, waiting, and as Logan gulped in air, he closed his eyes. She’s gotta be ok, he won’t…
“Mister?” Eyes snapping open, Logan turned toward the sound of the voice, seeing that a young man had stepped off of the porch of one of the stores. “I don’t know who those men were, but the horses? They had a brand on ‘em.” His eyes went to the money and then back to Logan. “Didn’t see it up close, but it looked like… like the Abernathy brand.” Dolores? Fucking Dolores? “From Sweetwater? Those horses are some of the finest around, and they reported a couple missin’ a few months ago.” The man stepped closer again, voice stronger. “If it’s the same men, I heard that they robbed a couple places down near Las Mudas and the old plantation.” That helps. Logan let out a breath, lowering his head. “I can show you on a map if you want, I know you’re a newcomer, so…”
“Thank you.” The two words spoken with a gratitude he didn’t know he was capable of, Logan stepped forward and toward the man, handing over the money. “You’re tellin’ the truth, right?” The man nodded. “Not just doing it for the m-”
“Of course not.” The man shook his head, folding the bills and sticking them in his pocket. “I can use it, sure, but I wouldn’t lie about somethin’ like this when a woman’s been taken.” Oh, thank fuck. Logan reached into his pocket and pulled the map that the Sheriff had given him out, and for the next few minutes, he stood in the street, the man explaining where things were located, where likely hiding spots were. “There’s not much to the west, and unless you go far south first, all that’s north is mountains and cliffs, and they’re damn near impossible to get up.” So he went south. Logan’s eyes moved over the map, and though he knew it was unlikely, they traveled southeast to the unclaimed territories, to where William had set him off into the sunset. He wouldn’t do that again, he tried it once, and it didn’t work, he knows that’d be the first place I’d look.
“Thank you.” He met the young man’s eyes again, and Logan hoped that he could tell how grateful he was. “I didn’t even know where to start, and now I…” He nodded, pointing. “I’ll head down to Las Mudas, and then see what they have to say.” Maybe they’ll have names, then I can… Logan took a deep breath.
“You’ll find her.” The man smiled at him, nodding twice. “Go.” He mounted his horse, turning it around and riding out of town. He said it’s about a day’s ride to Las Mudas… I’m gonna make it in half that.
---
You woke up when it was fully dark out, head pounding and throat dry. What the fuck? You were on the back of another horse, but this time, you weren’t sitting up on your own, you were strapped to the saddle, stomach pressed against it and your body bouncing with every step the animal took. Oh my god, I’m going to puke, I… Even as you had the thought, you felt your stomach seizing, and the next thing you knew you were getting sick, barely able to lift your head in order to make sure you didn’t cover your arms in vomit. At least my hair’s still tied back. Still coughing violently, you tried to look around, but couldn’t lift your head for too long because of the pounding. He fucking chloroformed me, how is that legal, how… There had been incidents in the park before, you knew, where guests like William had tried to harm other guests, and that was why Delos had implemented the Guest Tracking System, allowing people to alert security through the device if they ever felt that they were truly in danger. But your hat was back in your room, which meant that you didn’t have your device, and though William had his hat, you knew you’d never get to it to press down on the hidden button. Maybe… But you also knew that keeping you disoriented was part of William’s plan, and while it wouldn’t make you any less angry, it would make you more manageable. But why is he… because of Logan?
Your mind went back to the conversation you’d had the night Logan got his tattoo - when he’d told you what happened with William. You knew that Logan and William’s first trip to the park together had ended badly, and you knew that it was bad enough that Logan didn’t talk about it to anyone else, but you didn’t know why William would have taken you to prove a point. I didn’t do anything, Logan told me not to worry about it, he... From your position on the horse, it was difficult for you to tell what direction you were moving in, or even what time it was. I need water. I need food, I need… But you knew that William wouldn’t give you any of those things, and if he let you off of the horse at all, it would be a shock. “W-william.” Your throat scratchy, you gritted your teeth and tried again. “William.” After a few seconds, the horse you were on stopped moving, and you heard footsteps on the ground heading toward you.
“Yes?” He spoke from right next to you, voice low. “Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty.” Determined not to do anything to piss him off, you attempted to raise your head, trying to meet his eyes.
“I’m dizzy, William.” It came out as a whine, and you couldn’t help it. “I need to sit up, I can hold on, I -” I need to see where I am. “Please, William, where am I going to go?” You knew that you looked, smelled and sounded terrible, but you needed to get through to him. “Let me sit up, William, I -”
“Fine. But if you try anything, I’ll -” He gripped your chin in one hand, fingers closing tight against it and forcing you to look up. “You won’t get a second chance.” You could hear that he meant it, and though you knew that the gun at his waist wouldn’t harm you, you were sure that he had another plan. You nodded weakly, and only a few seconds later, felt the binding on your arms getting looser. “If I pull you off of there, are you gonna be able to get back on?”
“I think so.” You swallowed, and then William pulled you forward, this time not letting you fall to the ground before you got your footing. “Thank you.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, but you were so happy to be standing on solid ground that you couldn’t help it, and William actually laughed from next to you, his grip on your elbow tight. That’s going to bruise. “Give me a second, please.” You lowered your head, staring at your feet and trying to take deep breaths to clear your mind. Get it together. You finally raised your head and looked around, surprised to see that only one of the men - Tanner - was still with you. Where’s O’Conner? Turning your head, you saw that the horse you were riding was the one that the second man had been on. What happened to him?
“Our friend O’Conner’s no longer with us.” William was whispering, mouth close to your ear. “Had to get you a horse somehow.” Your lip curled, but you didn’t respond. “Get on, we need to go.” It was difficult but you managed to get back onto your horse, and soon the three of you were back on track, making your way over the flatlands, the moon shining brightly above you. So we went south. We’re not near the hills anymore. The hours passed and finally, when you were so exhausted that you thought you’d fall off the horse, William allowed you to stop just as the sky was beginning to lighten, the three of you setting up camp beneath a few scrubby trees. Even as he tied you to the trunk, allowing only a little play in the rope so that you could halfway stretch out, you were thankful for the respite, for the chance to close your eyes. “Enjoy this sleep, because tomorrow, the fun starts.”
---
You woke up to the buzzing of flies, and as you attempted to use your hands to wave them away, you were reminded of your predicament. I’m tied to a fucking tree. Eyes opening all the way, you struggled into an upright position, lifting your hands as much as you possibly could, drawing your knees up toward your chest. What the fuck am I going to do? You looked over the camp, seeing that William was nowhere to be found, Tanner leaning against his bedroll and staring up at the sky. “You can stop strugglin’ now, you aren’t goin anywhere. Boss tied those knots well, an’ he knows what he’s doing.” You swallowed, deciding that you were going to try speaking, even though you didn’t know how your voice would sound.
“How long have you known him? William, I mean?” Throat scratchy, you winced. “You said you’ve had the horses for a couple months, and…”
“They met me the night I helped ‘em rob the Abernathys.” William spoke from behind you and you closed your eyes. No. I needed more time, I… “I find myself out on that farm most trips to the park, you know.” William appeared in front of you, glancing over his shoulder. “Take a walk, Tanner. I need to talk to her for a while.” The Host stood, leaning down to pick up his canteen before he walked off. That doesn’t make sense, they aren’t supposed to be that obedient, it would ruin the game, they… “Anyway.” William settled down on the ground in front of you, legs crossed and canteen on his lap. “We’re gonna have a conversation, and if you give me the answers I want, I’ll give you something to drink.” It had been more than 24 hours since your last drink, and your tongue was still coated with the taste of your vomit - water sounded like the answer to everything. What do you want, asshole?
“I don’t know what you want to hear, William, I -” You shook your head, closing your eyes. “Why are you doing this, what -”
“The first time I came to this place, it was supposed to be a bonding trip between me and Logan. He was going to be my brother in law, and Jules… she wanted us to get to know each other better. I’d heard stories about the park, stories about... “ William shook his head. “L… he promised me that after the trip, I’d know who I was, and he said he wanted to meet that person, wanted to see what I was really like.” That doesn’t sound bad, it’s what he told me, too… “But he just wanted me to do what he wanted to do - fuck and drink and kill, and when I finally…” William laughed, looking into your eyes. “When I finally played the game how he wanted me to, the war and the plotting, and the … he didn’t like it much.”
“William, I don’t -” You coughed, trying to sit up straighter and also trying not to drag the burned skin of your shoulders against the tree bark. Play this off. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“But you do, because…” William leaned in, eyes cold. “He’s getting closer, he’s up to something, and he wouldn’t tell anyone else, only you.” What? “What has Logan fucking Delos told you about what happened here and what he’s doing now?” You shook your head, hearing his tone of voice - unlike you’d ever heard it previously. What is wrong with him? I don’t… “Tell me!” William moved forward, fingers closing around your shoulder and shoving you backward, slamming your back into the tree trunk. “Tell me what that piece of shit told you about me.”
“He didn’t tell me anything, William!” You screamed the words without thinking, your arm throbbing where he was gripping it. “He just told me that it didn’t end well, and he ended up in the desert and they didn’t find him for days, but…” William’s grip loosened slightly, his hand sliding down toward your elbow. “He only said that the two of you didn’t really get along, and that the trip was…” You closed your eyes, trying to remember the word Logan had used. “Illuminating.” You opened your eyes again, not wanting to but forcing yourself to look at William. “He told me about the drugs and the sex and the alcohol after he came back, because no one believed him, how he didn’t want to feel anything, and how he almost offed himself multiple times, but he doesn’t talk about you, William. Not to me, not unless we’ll be seeing you and Juliet and Emily.” You gritted your teeth. “But now I’m…” Shit. Shut up. “He doesn’t talk to me about you, William, we’re together, but we don’t…” It was a lie, and both of you knew it. He was protecting me. He didn’t want me to be involved, that’s why he never… “I don’t know anything else, William, I don’t, I …” You lowered your head, fighting back the tears that were threatening. “I’m so thirsty, I…” What is Logan doing? What does William know?
“Now you’re what?” His voice low, William leaned in, lips again close to your ear. “What have you figured out, hmm?” He laughed, fingers tightening again. “Tell me now.” Lie. You could almost hear Logan whispering into your ear. Lie to him. Make it convincing. “I’m waiting.”
“Now, William, I’m thinking that there’s a lot more to you than…” You swallowed, closing your eyes. “More to you than people know.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t what you were thinking, either. You sent him out into that desert. You tried to kill him. You…
“You know what?” He let go of your arm, sitting back and staring at you again. “You’re right about that.” He reached over, picking up the canteen that was sitting next to him and unscrewed the top. “And you’re going to find out just how right you are soon.” He leaned forward the canteen in one hand. “Open your mouth.” Eyes flying all the way open you pulled away from the tree and tilted your head back, doing as he asked. Thank God. You felt the cool metal touch your lips and then William tilted the canteen up. Gulping, you managed to swallow twice before you coughed, shaking your head violently back and forth. What… whiskey? What the … Coughing harder, you didn’t pay any mind to the fact that William was emptying the remainder of the canteen onto your face and chest, letting the whiskey soak your skin and clothing. “It’s his favorite, so I thought you’d want to have some.” You turned your head to spit, trying not to start screaming at him, because you knew it wouldn’t do any good.
“What are you going to do with me, William?” Finally catching your breath, you looked up at him, swallowing before you squeezed your eyes shut for a few seconds. “You’re not going to give me water, not going to…” You coughed again. “Not going to give me food, I’m sure. I didn’t have a blanket, so…” You smiled at him, wrinkling your nose. “You going to nearly kill me and then find me, William? Make yourself look like the hero, so if Logan ever says anything, he’ll look like an asshole?” William shifted onto one knee and paused, squinting at you before he answered.
“Nah. Logan’s going to be the one that finds you. But when? How? What condition you’re in?” The man laughed, head shaking back and forth. “That I haven’t decided yet.” He stood, one hand on his hip. “The thing about Westworld is that you can’t take anything out of here, not really. So no matter what, there’s no proof. And…” He pulled his hat off, turning it over so that you could see the inside of the brim. “These trackers are so handy, aren’t they?” William ran his fingers over a small tear on the inside of the hat, shaking his head. “That’s why I took mine out and left it at that saloon. I’m sure Logan’s found it by now, so he knows that I have you, and he knows he can’t just call into security and track me.” Dick. He paced in front of you, and you heard genuine giddiness in his voice, even though your head was spinning from the combination of the sun, lack of sleep, the fall you’d taken and the whiskey you’d swallowed. This isn’t good. “You don’t have a tracker on you, and when I picked those two idiots? I made sure he’d never had any contact with them before, so he won’t know who they are to… Hey.” He stepped back toward you, reaching down and grabbing the shoulder strap of your vest, yanking you toward him, the rope biting into your wrists. “Listen to me.”
“I’m listening, William.” You were, it wasn’t a lie, but you couldn’t muster up the enthusiasm you were sure he wanted. “I hear you, loud and -” Your words were stopped by the sting of the back of William’s hand as it made contact with your cheek, your head whipping to the side. Crying out, you struggled to raise your arms to protect your face, but the rope stopped you, the knots digging deeper into your wrists as you tugged, the tears finally falling freely. “What do you want from me, William? What?”
“I want you to tell me the truth, you miserable little bitch.” William slapped you again, laughing as he stepped away from you. “You will. Maybe not right now, but … soon. You’ll tell me what you know, and then I’ll know exactly how to stop him. I’ll know what I need to make him quit.” William turned and walked away from you and you slumped back against the tree, shoulders shaking. He already wants you gone, William, and this is just going to make it worse.
---
He’d ridden out of Lost Spring and down to Las Mudas as fast as his horse would allow him to, and when the animal had tired, Logan leaned down, whispering one of the fail safe commands into its ear, returning it to full strength. Convenient. The initiative had been implemented after Logan’s own trip to the edges of the park, and worked on all Hosts - animal and human alike. Some commands would just give them extra energy, others would alert the Mesa security team to an exact location. Though it wasn’t common knowledge and was still in the process of being beta tested - “We can’t ruin the illusion, Ford had said with a single shake of his head. “We give technicians the codes, that’s one thing, but Guests? No.” “Fuck you, Ford.” Logan gritted his teeth, eyes on the horizon in the gathering twilight. “She could have…” But Logan knew that you wouldn’t have used it until it was too late, still determined to do your job, and if William was involved, he wouldn’t allow you to use the words. I’m going to fucking kill you, William.
As the sun rose in the early hours of the next morning, Logan finally rode into town. He scanned the people milling around in the early morning twilight, trying to get a feel for the place with exhausted eyes. It wasn’t somewhere that he’d spent a great deal of time previously, so he didn’t know where to begin. The law, start there, this place has to have some sort of… “I need the Sheriff.” He stopped in front of the saloon, still on his horse. “I need to talk to him about the robberies, the men with the black horses.” Two of the women standing on the steps pointed in unison, and a few minutes later, Logan had dismounted and was sitting in a small room, his hands folded on the tabletop in front of him as he explained what he was looking for.
“Look, Mr. Delos.” The young Sheriff was shaking his head. “I’ll tell you what I know, but it’ll take me some time. Why don’t you let me get you somethin’ to eat, let us feed your horse, take a few hours to get some rest.”
“No.” He shook his head. “No, I’ll accept the food and the information, but I can’t wait a few hours, she doesn’t have them.” He was sure of that, sure that any delay from him would put you in more danger. “The men that took her might just be thieves, but the one they’re taking her to?” Logan sighed. “He’s bad news.” Faster than expected, Logan had a hot meal in front of him, the lawman talking about the bandits that had been in the area.
“Never hurt anyone, but they’ve done some damage. Stole a bunch of silver, killed a few cows and some sheep, took the horses.” Sounds run of the mill for these parts, but it doesn’t make sense that they’d be with William. Why? “They’ve been in and out of the area between here and Pariah and Sweetwater, never stayin’ in one place. Pariah’s one thing; lawlessness there is how they operate, but here? Here we -”
“Alright, but do you know who they are?” Logan chewed and swallowed, wondering if William was feeding you, what he was saying to you. “Names? Nicknames? Where they’re from? What they might want?” The man leaned back in his chair, thinking.
“Nah, they’re just like Hector Escaton’s posse, tryin’ to cause trouble when and where they can, but…” The Sheriff sighed. “Think one of em’s name is O’Conner, he fits the description of a man from down near Avalon, the other one we don’t know, and it’s why we ain’t caught ‘em yet.” Of course it is. He rubbed the heels of his hands over his eyes, thinking of the way you were likely feeling and hoped you still thought he was coming. I am, I’m just figuring it out. I swear… “My best guess? They takin’ her to meet someone, they prob’ly headed south from where you all were, and then they headed…” He squinted, lips pressed together. “Toward the canyons.” No he wouldn’t take her there, he wouldn’t repeat it, that’s not it. “Could also be headin’ toward the sea, that’s a shorter trip, but there are fewer places to hide on the way, unless they’re followin’ the river.” He leaned forward, pointing on the map. “If it was me, an’ I was tryin’ to get somewhere quick?” He tapped a finger on the map where the rivers converged between the lowlands and the old plantation fields. “I’d stick to the river, cuz it’s easier to follow it straight to the end. The edge of the park. I’ve seen it, but he hasn’t. He’d want to see …
“Thank you.” Logan shook his head, deciding what he was going to do. “I’ll follow the river west, see what that turns up, there’s people out near the plantation that might be able to…” Wait a minute. I don’t have to ...
“Sure are. Lots of ‘em, but a lot of ‘em don’t speak English, so you’ll have to find someone that…” He laughed. “That can talk to you.” The man pushed back from the table, glancing at the watch he pulled from his pocket. “You look exhausted, are you sure that you -”
“No. I have to go, I can’t wait.” Logan stood, reaching a hand out to the other man. “I appreciate your help more than you know, but I need two more things from you, and then I’ll be on my way.” The Sheriff nodded, gesturing at Logan with one hand. “I need a pair of handcuffs, and I need you to show me the yellow brick road.” Please work. He swallowed, waiting, but after only a few seconds, the man turned away from Logan, stepping further into the room and spinning the dial on the safe behind him on the wall.
“I’ll leave you now.” No more accent, no more … shit. He’d never seen the Hosts affectless, and the first time would have been much more interesting if your life hadn’t been on the line. Logan stepped past the Sheriff as the man placed a set of cuffs on the desk and reached into the safe, pulling out the bagged items from inside. They were standard issue first aid items - bandages, over the counter painkillers, alcohol wipes - and, Logan saw, relief flooding his body, an EPI pen along with a few vials of liquid that were marked “adrenaline” along with a jet injector. Perfect. He slung the small pouch over his shoulder and then reached in again, picking up the final item in the safe: one of the tablets the behavior analysts used. Alright, Delos. Find her. Logan returned to the table, sitting down, and after logging in, he was able to access the park map, and in turn, all of the Host and Guest locations, tiny moving dots on the illuminated screen.
He knew it wasn’t worth a damn, but he quickly typed your name in anyway, closing his eyes when your location came up less than fifteen yards from him. I wish. He typed in William’s name, too, but that one was literally on top of him, and Logan thought of the tracking device he’d stuffed into his pocket, lip curling into a snarl. Look up O’Conner. He did so, limiting the results to Hosts, and was surprised to see that there were two of them, one showing up as being in the Ranchlands to the east, and the other’s marker blinking slowly nearly due north of Las Mudas. Blinking? That means…. He clicked on the name, bringing up a picture and was presented with the image of the man that had held the gun on him. Got you...but you’re dead? He tapped again, bringing up playback of the final moments of the Host’s life, and didn’t see much; just a fire, the second kidnapper laying next to it, and a prone body on the ground. Wait, that’s a rope, that’s her, that… Zooming in, Logan saw that your head was turned to the side, eyes closed, hands still tied together and resting against your abdomen. What did he do to her? But Logan didn’t dwell on it , instead zooming in on the second Host’s face and tapping, bringing up information on him. Tanner. Alright. That Host’s location was not blinking, and Logan breathed a sigh of relief. He’s nearly a day away, I should have… fuck, why wasn’t there a stockpile in Lost Spring? He’d tried the same code words on the Sheriff there, but there’d been no response, and though Logan knew that he simply should have immediately asked upon arrival in Las Mudas, the truth was that he needed the rest and he needed the food. I need to sleep, I need… But she needs me more, she needs help.
Logan stared at the screen, finger hovering over the button that he could have used to call security in. They can be to her in fifteen minutes or less, they can save her, they can… But Logan knew William, and knew that the man had given up. There was no way out of it for him after taking you and leaving evidence behind - and though Logan didn’t know if he’d actually kill you at the merest glimpse of intervention, he didn’t want to risk it. Whatever he’s got planned, he wants me to be there, wants me to see, wants me to… Logan glanced down once more before turning the tablet off and slipping it into the bag with the medical supplies, pulling out the jet injector and one of the adrenaline vials. I’m going to crash, but at least I’ll… Swallowing, Logan twisted the vial into position, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes.
He hadn’t injected himself with anything in nearly two years, but you were worth it, and he pressed the trigger without another thought, the release point tight against the inside of his forearm. I’ll crash hard, but at least I’ll be closer to you when it happens. Logan took a deep breath and stood, already feeling more awake and alert as the injection took hold. “I’m coming.”
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