Author's pov~

"Woke up? Feeling better?" A manly voice rumbles a laugh.

Samara's eyes opened halfway as another splash of water arrived on her face. Soon she grew aware of her surroundings. She was kidnapped, luckily by Jason.

She looked up through her lashes to see the place, it was a typical ill lit area with less to no lights and windows.

But it was vast and around four men stood infront of her aligned with Jason in the centre.

He was sitting on a chair similar to one Samara was tied to. Her hands, were taut close to the arms of chair, and so were her legs. Mouth covered with a duct tape, she rolled her eyes as she didn't even plan to cry or yell for help anyway. In the corner, her bag was torn and all her belongings laid near the torn bag. She shook her head sarcastically to it. In her mind, she was happy she reached here though. As she focused, she felt a slight throbbing pain in the back of her head. Reminiscing, the vague face of man who charged at her from behind with a baseball bat, she glares at him, finding he stood beside Jason.

"Not gonna act scared or yell in agony, are you?" She raised her eyebrows to the man whose voice roared alone in the vicinity and shook her head in denial.

"How do I trust that? I hate noises, you know." She slumped back on chair relaxed and puffs out, to show that she's tired of his bullshit.

Jason's jaw clenched at that, he snapped a finger and one of his men came to Samara and removed the duct tape.

He pressed a slap on her face that she angrily hissed at him.

He grips her hair tight and smacked again, continued smacking for a while till she yelled, "Don't beat me on face, you fucking idiot! It leaves marks!"

The man stopped to look back at Jason. Who had his chin propped on palm, enjoying the drama, "Why're you listening her? Continue," and so the guy did, "If you listen to each person we beat, won't they be making similar requests,"

"This ain't a unghh, request. Don't touch my face," Samara flips as she pushes her chair back by herself.

"Then punch her in stomach. That'd be okay right?" And the guy followed again. He threw few light punches here and there, as she groaned in struggle and hurt, till Jason again reprimanded. "Are you playing house with her? Is that how you beat people!"

Blood rushed upto Samara's mouth, as she tasted the metallic taste sit on her tongue. She felt like the second time she would faint.

"Ugh. Fuck!" She grunts and throws her head back.

"Hey! You, why did you come at me, were you sent by someone?" Jason walks upto her.

Samara tries to recollect her breathing and takes whiffs of air,

"Answer!" The hitman again tries to hit her but Jason grabs his hand to stop.

"I will answer, w-when no one is around but us."

"Why should I agree to what you say?"

"Do I, Do I look like I'm in a position to play jokes with you? Aye, you, your hits are sick. Teach me sometime, yeah?" She smiles creepily at the guy who hit her, who looked like blood drained from his face. The men in room were left agape.

"You're fucking crazy," Jason pushes the man behind and places his hand on the chair's headrest.

"I know that," Samara smirks with a wink.

"I like that," he squints his eyes, as he runs his thumb on her cheekbone that was eventually getting more red. "How long till it heals?" She asked.

"Depends on how you answer me,"

"Which depends on if you listen to me, once." She pleaded him with her dark brown globes.

Jason folds his arms across bulked chest, as his pecs come in sight. Samara, even in such a body demolished condition, prayed for his shirt buttons that were doing the job successfully.

He was thoughtful and ordered, "Stay at the door, don't try something stupid." And so his men left the two alone.

Jason glanced in her direction and waited, "Can I get some water?"

"I listen, once," he bit on his cheek inside, making his way back to her on chair.

"Come on, my throat hurts."

"If you don't speak, something else might too," he clutched her right thigh unbearably harsh. It felt to Samara as if, her thigh, it might explode as well. She sucked up the torment and asked, "Push your hands up," Jason looked into her enchantingly dark eyes. As if slowly, being devoured by her.

He pushed his hands up.

"More," she squirmed as his rough hands were felt by her muscles through the thin silk shirt she wore.

"There, insert it in the back pocket," his hands slipped into her pant pocket and searched. He removed a silver bracelet with a half moon pendant.

"What's this?" He asked out of breathe, "I don't know, but you do. I know that."

"How did this come to you?" He stood straight and caressed the bracelet like it meant diamonds and gold.

"It was my aunt's. Look, I need help from you. That's why I approached you. Of course not for free. There's nothing I can give you yet, apart from myself though." Jason gulped and cracked a neck joint.

"I can't catch you with this crap you speak, who are you and why did you do what you did today? Better not make up stories, because, I don't hesitate using my gun."

"Samara Davis, 20, studying in the same university you're an alumni of, currently broke, an orphan and fucked with debts. I need money, and connections. Simple. I did that wine debacle to get your attention."

Jason chortles taking his time, removing her hands and legs from the rope tied to her.

"Why me then? Go to a bank or something? You really think I'd buy that."

"You must've already tracked where I live-lived, study, work to, and if at all you tried harder, you must have figured since how long I wanted to find you. Almost since last 14 months, I've tried to get where I'm right now." She presses her wrist that felt sore. She internally hoped, Jason didn't search into his aunt more because of Matthew's words tonight. Or hoped he forgot it.

"Hmm. I did. There's nothing suspicious about you, but your audacity. It's something so, unique. So unique that I can't help but question all over, why me. Why this method?"

"My aunt raised me after my parents died, she passed away 18 months ago, and before dying she gave me the bracelet and had told me to look for you if something goes wrong. Many things went wrong but only now I could find you."

"Why did you lie in the bar then?"

'So he remembered, ugh.'

"This isn't what I want people to know about me as Sam." She looked exposed and volatile. Her aunt was a weak link in chain for her. It was too visible.

"You put in so much effort then, why not approach me formally?"

"You'd listen a sob story?" She rubs her jaw slowly.

"Ah! That's true. I got no time for shit like this. But about this bracelet, what do you know?"

"A similar piece was with your father, right?"

"You know my father?" Jason skeptically gazes her form that looked wrecked but poised. 

"Of course I don't. But I know that he was friends with my aunt. I don't know his whereabouts per se."

"Nobody does."

"You're still searching for him?" She looked up with a different set of emotions at him. Jason couldn't analyze that.

"How do you?" He angrily raises a fist but stops, "Huh. Why would I search for a man who left his own family. A moron would do that."

"Do what? Leave family or search the one who's gone?," Samara was playing her part, getting one's support comes from crumbling the walls of that opponent.

"Stop talking about my father, who was your aunt anyway to know my biological father?" Jason's mother remarried, to a person Jason never referred as father.

"Probably when you were six, she was a bank employee in same bank as your father. I found out that once your father left, my aunt also stopped working in the bank. She then started as a normal office worker, but later. She quit that job too. Nothing much, had to get loans and more loans to continue living. Now all of it, is on me. I cannot let her name be stained for not repaying to those lenders. So I wanna repay it, all at once. But because she said your name and I found pictures of her with your dad, I thought they were friends. And you, maybe knew her. Katrina. Katrina Johnson, rings something?"

"Katrina Johnson, so you must be her sister, Kella Johnson's daughter. Yeah I recall. She used to meet us time and again. But since I was young, I don't have many memories, some photographs."

'Just exactly, how much she knows about me and my father, I really need to get it straight,' Jason pinched the bracelet.

"Well. Enough with the emotional crisis then, I need help and you can give me that. In return, I'd like to bargain that I might help you find relation of your father and my aunt."

"Hmm. Let's say I give money and what you need. What do I get?" Jason sits back on the chair. The bracelet no longer in his hands, but inside pocket.

Samara gets up, and kneels. She plops her butt on her feet heels and looked up, "You get, me." There was a stain of tear on her face or was it sweat, Jason couldn't confirm. Her voice held sheer determination and toughness he hadn't seen in any of his hitmen as of past decade.

"What do I do with you? What do you have?" He shuts his eyes to imagine the various reasons.

"Apparently nothing. Not a body you can use for pleasure or having sex, not enough resistance that you can torture me and go on to relieve pent up frustration every day, I have nothing. No impetus or connection, anything. That's why you can use me as you want." Samara speaks that looking down and Jason's lip twitched at her words. He was going berserk but thrilled at the same time.

"It's first time someone willingly walks up to me to get toyed. You know it will destroy you, right?"

"Will it be more than the pain I went through? I wonder." She smiles, but her eyes couldn't hide the aggravated destruction she has went through over the years.

"What did you go through?"

"Something we don't really need to talk."

"Fair enough, since I've things I don't wanna talk about too. But wouldn't this thing of using you, be equivalent to training a soldier myself and then killing them by my hands too?"

"Then keep the soldier by your side. Forever."

"Huh. What was that?" His eyes glint with humour.

"I will stay by your side. Always." She now sat comfortably on the ground, although it was cold. And her body felt pathetic, but she tried inhaling evenly.

"Haha. As what? My girlfriend? My wife? An affair? How much money do you need, a part of my property or what?" He stood up and bent to control his smile.

"Shut up, oldie." Samara puts a disgusted face. "Exactly," Jason strikes and they both laugh for a minute over nothing. 

"By staying with you I mean," she got up and entered his space after dusting off her butt, "As your work force. Personal work force. You should know, I study criminal justice in order to become a detective as well, right? How about making it a private detective. I like digging up dirt for people that they tried so hard to cover. Gives me a sense of peace and tranquility." She lets her hand loose in air, as if meditating. The aura she emitted felt like, only after thousand demons were burnt alive, her birth was possible.

"You're pure evil. I totally like it now." He looked her face to face. They both wore a similar, crazy, broken, amused and dead set expression.

"That's what. If you train me nice and allow me to learn better, I will become an irreplaceable asset to you. How about that? And, don't worry. I stay loyal. As long as you listen to me too, that is."

"I'm so tempted to accept this offer. But you should know, such deals are made on trust as a pivotal force. Do we trust each other?"

"I do. And I hope you'll learn to trust me too." She poked her tongue to her left check's inside.

"Why do you trust me?" He tilted his head.

". . . Because my aunt said so. I don't know if she knew you any better. But I'd like to figure that along."

"You trust me because a person who is no more in the world, just told you. Word of mouth at its best," He snickers low.

"I'm sure if your dad left a clue about his disappearance, it could be a twig and you'd dig it, slurp it, snatch it away. A twig, sweetheart." She batted her eyelashes as Jason understandingly nods his way up.

If you've no way ahead of you, you'd even break a casement or dig a burrow to figure out the world beyond. Humans in need are the most potentially manipulative weapons, in the end.

"Well, we need to know each other better. And although you may trust me, I don't. So what do we do?"

"Give me a task. If I complete, you listen me and I work for you. Just the beginning of our track I mean,"

"Task? Enroll next week in the Amaryllis house's maid service test, if you pass, I shall take that as a start. And sign the NDA very next day."

'Getting to sign up for that test, I'd need to be a grad from butler and management school though,' her face crooks weirdly.

"That's your family house, that you rarely go to. Since you live in White Heather, how about directly taking me there?"

"Wouldn't that be going on easy on you?" He jumped his brows to show the obvious.

"Okay, cool. And if I get in, and you don't take me to White Heather, what then?"

"Then, you stay in Amaryllis. Till you're fired." His voice was so cruel but more were his words. He was ofcourse testing the patience, trust and wits of her.

"Alright then. It's not like I won't get anything even if I was stuck in Amaryllis." She reached her torn bag, tired and slow. As she crouches down to pick her belongings, she turns back, "Hey. The bracelet, give it back."

"I won't."

"It's not yours. It belongs to my aunt. You already have the one left by your dad, okay?"

'Took her so long to realise it's not with her, too young and dumb after all.'

"Being unfair is my job, and I promise. I'm worse than this." He slipped his hand in pant pocket to seem prude.

"Great. Just one meeting and I feel like I wanna kill you, totally great. Good going. I will get back that bracelet, and you will give it, yourself." She limps her way to the door where all the hitmen went.

"Victor!" Jason calls.

The men arrive following the guy who beat Samara.

"So your name is Victor, you're a strong dude." She continues walking limply. Jason gestured with his eyes, and Victor grabs her and another guy held her other side.

"They will drop you from where they took you. If not, urge them to drop you home. They're not so giving though."

"Hmph. Stupid jerk." She says underneath her breathe as Victor heard her with a confused face.

The men pull her along, this time gentler, towards the door.

"Wait!" Jason hollers again.

"Yes, sir." Victor stops and turns the girl around. 

"Aye Sam, strip." He twirls his finger in air.

"Huh?"

"Remove your clothes."

"Why though?" She was purely unable to catch onto his phrase.

"Strip naked if you want to be in White Heather within next 10 days," he circles his silver ring on thumb with his index.

'I need to know, if you're the same girl.'

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(My god. He is scary. And so evil. I don't know what to do with him *_*)

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