I feel like after a đ, Remus would think one word only - đźđ°đŻđŽđ”đŠđł. But then, little by little he would wake to the sound of Siriusâ voice, and that word would change into đźđ°đ°đŻđș, and heâd know heâs safe and there is someone who loves him, broken pieces and all.
Evan Rosier had been tied to a chair for approximately three hours and thirty-two minutes, not that he was counting. The ropes were too tight to wiggle free, but not tight enough to cut off circulation. His kidnapper, a man who had clearly seen one too many crime thrillers, had spent the first hour trying to intimidate him. The second hour was a monologue about how powerful and dangerous he supposedly was. By the third hour, Evan had tuned him out entirely.
Now, with a knife to his throat and a phone pressed to his ear, Evan exhaled in mild boredom.
"Call him," the kidnapper snarled. "Let's see if your boyfriend values your life."
Evan hummed, unimpressed. "You think this is going to end well for you?"
The kidnapper ignored him and dialed. It rang twice before Barty answered.
"Who the fuck is this?" came Bartyâs voice, sharp and impatient.
The kidnapper grinned, pressing the speaker button. "If you want your dear Evan back, you'll listen very carefully."
There was silence for a moment. Then Barty scoffed.
"Oh, youâre under the impression I could care less about you having Rosie? Thatâs adorable."
Evan barely suppressed a smirk.
The kidnapper blinked. "What?"
"I mean, good for you, I guess?" Barty continued, sounding distinctly unimpressed. "Bold move. You kidnapped my boyfriend, expecting me to do what? Beg? Cry? Start gathering ransom money? Please."
Evan could practically hear the eye-roll in Bartyâs tone. He decided to make it worse.
"Barty, love," Evan drawled, entirely unconcerned about the knife still pressed against his skin, "he's really trying his best."
"Is he?" Barty mused. "Because he sounds pretty fucking incompetent to me."
The kidnapper was growing increasingly flustered. "Iâthis isnât a joke! Youâre supposed to be afraid!"
Evan sighed. "Afraid of what? Barty?"
The kidnapper hesitated, glancing at the phone like it might explode. Evan lifted a brow, amused. "You did look into who you were dealing with, didnât you?"
Barty made a thoughtful noise. "Yeah, Rosie, I donât think he did. Should I give him a hint?"
Evan smirked. "Be my guest."
Bartyâs voice dropped into something quieter, something lethal. "I hope you had fun while it lasted, mate, because Iâm already on my way. And when I get there, youâll wish you never fucking touched him."
The kidnapperâs face drained of color.
Evan tilted his head. "Youâre really in for it now."
The call ended.
The kidnapper looked at him. Evan smiled. "Iâd run if I were you."
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