𝐙𝐄𝐊𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐉𝐄𝐓, 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄

ELEANOR

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'Where the hell am I?'

Sasha, the woman who worked under Zeke, was a little blonde bitch. With her snarky attitude which was much like mine and sinister laughter, the only thing that was keeping me from strangling her pretty little neck was because she gave me her clothes to wear. The room those bastards locked me in had no windows at all, but every now and then, we'd have pit stops in different states around the world. Sasha was probably the only woman on the deck or wherever, it was either Zeke or Sasha who always paid me a visit. 

Sasha narrowed her cat-like eyes, leaning forward with her hands over her knees. She was settled on her chair, playing a game on her phone as if to tease me about that being my way out, in front of me but out of reach. 'Are you seriously that stupid that you can't make out where we are?'

'I feel my ears pop every time I swallow so I assume we're on a plane,' I guessed, playing with the cuff on my wrist. Zeke had specifically wanted me restrained to the bed frame, the only piece of furniture on this god horrid cabin. The bathroom was across the door and I had to take a piss with someone else's permission.

'So why'd you ask the question?'

'Small talk,' I murmured, piercing my nail between the keyhole of the cuffs. The jingled with my every movement, the sounds seeming loud even with the cabin pressure around us. The leather chair Sasha was seated upon squelched again when she leaned back, paying attention to her phone.

'What happened after I left?' I dared to ask, knowing there had to be some story that took place after. I ought to know what chaos he started to breed. Sasha lifted her gaze once again, rolling her eyes.

'Your man killed his father a year after you vanished from England,' she established. 'It drove him mad. You know the Stanes, they hate to lose. He lost you and lost his father. So you can see what state he's in.'

'It's been four years,' I said, shaking my head. 'His father aped Tony's designs, developed some sort of a death suit and tried to kill him with it. What has Zeke got to do with any of this?'

'He loved his father,' she stated, tossing her phone on the couch and rising to her full height. She was shorter than I was but more built than me. 'His father bred a boy who won. When you left, he was on the edge—'

I snorted. 'Because he lost me?'

She shrugged. 'More or less.'

'That man ruined my life,' I spat. 'I ran away from my country because of that son of a bitch. He threatened to kill my mother if I took that offer to study in the States. He shot my friend,' I choked, not willing to evoke dreary memories, 'what sort of a sick bastard does that?'

'A person who loves—'

'Bullshit,' I groaned. 'That isn't loving. That's someone who needs to see a psychiatrist.'

'I could've loved him,' she murmured, bringing out a blade of hers and rubbing a thumb along the length. I was in awe at her words, the sentiment that swam in her eyes. I wanted to gag at her choice in men - a murdering rat and a thieving scoundrel. 'I still can.'

She steered the knife at me, the tip inches away from the iris of my eye. I held my breath, remaining unmoving while watching the blade and her. 'I could just take your life and be done with it.'

My lip trembled so I pursed it shut. 'Stark would have no choice but to fight with no will and Zeke would win in the blink of an eye.'

'Sasha,' a voice from behind her ordered sternly. Zeke. 'We don't antagonize tenants.'

He was leaning onto the doorframe, the cool air from the outside slapping against my skin. The large sweater and same shorts I came in with was of no help, so I slipped my knees into the dark sweater and pressing them into my chest. Besides, I didn't want any part of him touching me.

'They want you on the bridge,' he shared and made way for her exit. 'We're opening in France airspace.'

France? I thought we'd gone back to the US and then on our way to Taiwan. I nipped my lip deep in thought, jumping when the door banged shut. I breathed in deeply, shuffling back into the bed to plaster my back against the wall and my cuffed hand stretched out against the edge of the bedpost. I kept my legs concealed, curling into a ball at a corner. 

'Come to gloat about another hundred deaths that you caused?'

'Actually, I've come to rejoice,' he shared, crossing the room in a few strides and the bedding dipping with his weight. He placed his elbows over his knees, chin over his fisted hands. I was glad he wasn't looking my way. 'The world officially thinks Tony Stark is the face behind the blasts. There is no word out there for his suspension, but I'll make it happen.'

'To make the world look up at the hero and see a knave?' I elaborated on his ingenious draft. 'That's your big plan?'

'I'm just doing him a favour and taking up the avenging role of his job,' he shrugged. 'No god with a hammer or spangly spiders are going to stop me.'

I made a noise at the back of my throat, loving the fact that he thought he was greater than a living god. He heard this and faced me, observing me for the longest time. I willed my gaze away, watching the silver of the cuffs glinting with the light in my room. 

'Why'd you leave?' 

'Why do you think I left, Ezekiel?' I asked back, my eyes harrowing from the thoughts of my sweet friend who was shot in broad daylight. All because I had sent the job-acceptance letter to the States through her. Presumably, going behind someone's back in a relationship was going to lower the standard for trust between them. So eradicating the root was the only way out. Murder, according to the psychopath. 

 Margaret Smith had a child, a husband—she had everything I'd ever wanted and he had taken her life for his own selfish needs. It was too late when I had arrived - she had taken a bullet to her head and her husband a sobbing mess over the bloodied scene. All because I asked for a favour of my release, the devil had her name scratched out from his list. 

'All you had to do was stay with me and I would've given you the world,' he sadly reasoned, reaching over to catch the toes of my feet. In a single tug, he pulled my feet towards him and rubbing a palm over my legs. I shuddered with disgust wanting to wrench my leg away but the dark gun that played peekaboo from the edge of his jeans. A plan started to form in my head, my lips parting with the hope of release. 

'Do you remember when I first asked you out?' He reminisced, a finger sliding to the crook of my knee to feel the tender skin underneath, a laugh leaving him. I couldn't move, my eyes strained on the gun. 'You were so tenacious. Just wouldn't give in. I had to go out on a limb to get you to like me.'

I stated clearly. 'I never did.'

'Because you loved me,' he looked at me like he had me figured out. 'And you still do.'

'Say that to someone who gives a shit,' I hissed. 'I don't. And I most certainly don't feel the same way you do.'

He grew irritated. 'Why are you fighting me? Fighting this? Why must you insist on being so unreasonable every fucking time?'

'Because I don't want any part in this, Zeke!' I blew out, my voice no louder than a whisper but harsher than before. 'I don't want you, whatever you have to offer o-or your stupid psychobabble vomit. I just want to be left away from you.'

When I first saw Zeke, I was angry. Outraged. Furious that he could be stubborn enough to not apologize for knocking my computer out of my hands. To smirk like a smug bastard and follow me back to my class. Call it cynicism but nine years later, I still was. Nothing had changed except the in-between, the few years that I had actually found myself to be in love with him. He was my first everything—be it sex, love or heartbreak—and I was determined he would not be my last.

He continued to speak. 'We were so happy.'

'You were.'

He shook his head. 'I was so in love. Pops wanted us to get engaged.'

I stayed silent, my eyes laying low and ever so sneakily watching the gun that peaked higher out of his belt loops with his movement. 

'We still can, my love,' he said, fluidly moving across the single bed and holding my face with both his hands. I gulped, my hands itching to reach across his back to grab the gun. 'I have you, this jet, and the world. I just have to end Stark's life.'

He wouldn't dare. Tony was the only thing in the world that kept me sane enough to keep going on and this heartless killing machine in front of me was not going to end something real I hadn't experienced in a long time. So, I swallowed down any retorts that struck my throat and pulled on a faltering smile. 

'Please,' I tried to say, making my voice as low as possible. 'Please, I want you to understand that you can still—'

'Still can what? Give up?'

'It's over, Zeke,' I murmured, clear and done. 'Move. On. I have.'

'I missed the way you said my name. I missed everything,' he lengthened out, pushing the hair out of my face. He smiled back, brushing his thumb over my cheek to push a tress away. He lit a trail of red down my temple, the urge to cough in his face rising. All of a sudden, his hold on my face changed and his palm wounding the sides of my jaw to force his gaze on mine. I let out a whimper in distress when his grasp tightened.

'Yet you think of him,' he mused. 'Like some sort of white knight.'

His eyes went obstinate, softening a little when they fell on my lips. He inched forward, my immediate instinct to angle back with a twist of my mouth. He pulled my face back, splaying his lips against mine and forcing mine apart. I pushed myself to react, moving my lips against his. He smirked when he felt my hands go around his neck, slowly edging to the nape of his neck.

'I love you,' he murmured. 'Eleanor, come back to England with me.'

Aw. Like hell, I would.

'You were better,' I whispered to him. 'You hurt me.'

Hard eyes prodded me further. 'I'm stronger.'

'I loved you,' I said in all truth. 'I did. You left me in pieces, Ezekiel.'

'I took you back to right it,' he beamed as if he got what he wanted. 'We'll start from where we left off. You and me, yeah?'

His lips sloppily pecked the edge of my lips and traversing down the column of my neck, his fingers wrapping around my knees to hook it around his waist. The back of my ankle hit the handle of the gun, my eyes widening with the impact. His hands were rubbing my thighs in want, which were too risky to try and grab it out before he beat me to it. I could feel him smirk into my skin when I moved to adjust myself onto him and pull out the gun, burdening my lips with another kiss.

I dragged a single finger down the nape of his neck, slowly edging to the pistol. When my fingers hit the flattened area of the gun, I stopped my movement. My fingers looped around the trigger and with a single drift, I yanked it out. 

I aimed the gun at his chest and he halted his motions, raising his arms in surrender. My hands shook as I pressed the tip into his chest, putting on a sneer on my face.

'Get off of me,' I growled and used the gun to poke him away. 'Get off!'

And, he did but only to drive an elbow into the bed and watch me in amusement. I tried to stop the inevitable shaking of my hands, the gun's feel alarming me. I drove the tip into the muscle, his expression not changing the slightest.

'You let me go now,' I ordered with a waver in my voice. 'Or I will shoot you.'

'Go ahead,' he prompted with a grin. 'Shoot me, my love. It would be a pleasure to die in your hands and seeing those darned beautiful eyes.'

'You were always the sweet talker, Zeke,' I said with a gnarly grimace. 'It never worked.'

He rolled his eyes, clamping a hand over my wrist. He tugged it, setting the aim over his head. I gulped when he adjusted my finger over the trigger and pushed his head close. His eyes locked with mine, intent and unafraid.

'Shoot me, Eleanor.'

This man took my friend's life. He ruined mine during the gem of my years, threatened to ruin everything about me if I didn't stay by him. A sob left my chest as I looked away, my finger shaking over the trigger. I could do this, just take his life and be done with it. My life would be so much easier. Vengeance would be served.

'Come on, Elle. Shoot.'

I pressed down, my eyes squeezed shut. I never heard the bang, my gaze shooting to the gun and firing the trigger once again. Only faint clicks of the empty bullet holes, my breath catching in my throat. He sighed, dropping his head over the pillowcases, shaking his head.

'You didn't think I'd bring in a loaded gun, did you?' He chuckled. 'It was very fun to watch you play. Really, absolutely adorable.'

'No.'

'Tsk, my baby. Give it another go,' he mused, reaching out clasp my wrist. 'Come on, surprise me.'

Rage bubbled to my chest, hot tears of embarrassment rolling down my cheeks. I hate you, my mind spat at him but too demure to say it out loud. I pushed the rage to the depths of my mind, focusing on my escape. My mind worked quickly, trying to find any other way to make my way to the door. I still had the gun in my grasp; I had watched too many movies to actually try this. 

I used the back of the gun to smash the bridge over his face and knocking him over the bed with a strong kick to his stomach. He landed with a groan, bleeding out through his nose. Once again, I bashed the chain to the cuffs repeatedly as fast as I could, hoping it would chip right off. When it did, pried the wristlocks free and rammed another kick over Zeke's abdomen and sprinting to the door.

Just as I was about to reach the handle, something caught my leg to get me crashing to the ground, my stomach taking most of the impact. I tried kicking his grappling hands away with short sobs escaping me, my hands clawing on the floor to pull me up.

He was too strong, wiping the blood from his nose with a sniff and dragging me away from the door.

'Let go,' I cried out as I tried to get on my feet. He let his grasp loosen for a minute, using the minute to grab my neck and slam into a wall nearby. I choked out angrily. 

'Ooh, I do love a woman who fights,' he commented, tightening his hold on my neck and the slowly healing bruises starting to form welts once again. 'Did he teach you that? To throw a punch?'

The pressure only made me choke. 'Zeke.'

'No, I taught you. I taught you to protect yourself. Not from me.'

A raging groan left my lips. 

'Eleanor, my love. I took down Tony Stark with these babies.'

The tips of his fingers glowed a fine golden, a single finger nearing my skin. The heat dissipated from inches away from my neck, my skin beading up a sweat from the sweltering heat.

'Please, no,' I begged and sent him a pleading look. 'Zeke, no.'

He made a sad pout, clucking his tongue. I used my hands to push his face away and remove myself from his chokehold. 'I know, my love. But I can't risk having you play around again.'

'Please,' I begged when pulled his lips into his teeth and brushed a strand of my hair away from my neck. He moved his fingers away to reveal my neck but still restraining my neck down. My skin blanched as he blew into my hair to part it, digging his fingers deeper when I struggled.

'Right over your heartbeat, where I should be,' he murmured and blithely touching the skin under my jaw and burning sensation making me scream. He didn't let go, still letting the heat completely scorch the skin until the smell of burning flesh wafted through the room. I thrashed in his grasp, screaming bloody murder with tears rolling down my cheeks in silent pleas for mercy.

He let go, pressing a swift kiss over my cheek and letting me collapse to the floor. I stayed there, a charred mess of bones and skin and weeping hot mess. I used a finger to inspect the burn wound, every crinkle skin around my neck making me hiss in agony. I wailed when blood thicker than the usual coated my palms, my vision fading with the force of the pain.

'Give her the shot. Up the dosage this time.' 

∞

[ update (16.01.2020): wohoooooo edited and rewritten! ]