His wrists burned. West knew he was stuck; bound by stupid ropes to a chair. The scent of sweat, blood, and ink tainted the air, making West’s stomach flip and the familiar tang of bile reach up into his throat. But he would not break. He would never break. Rivet, his former employer, stepped closer and put his face mere inches away from West’s. Thin pale lips pulled back into a sinister grin as he waved the man with the needle closer.

“You know, you can make a man do anything,” Rivet said in his shiver-inducing tone. West’s muscles tensed, but his facial expression remained true. West swallowed the bile as Rivet’s cigarette scented breath blew past the nape of his neck.

“That is, if they are properly motivated.”

West aw0ke with a start, quickly blinking his eyes open and pressing two fingers to the tattoo on his neck. Breathing heavily the twenty-two-year-old rubbed the dark ink marking him as property. He could still feel that needle and those ropes… But even worse?

He could feel that fear.