No Strings Attached | ?

        After my outburst of reciprocation this morning, the day continued as normal. Well, as normal as it has been since Jonah actually started sleeping at my house. He had gotten himself ready for work and I lied to him saying my shift started in the afternoon, then I waved him goodbye and regretted my life choices. It was the same routine as last week's, and the week before that.

        Near the bare opening of sunset, I get a call from Necksnapper saying there was a last-minute meeting that needed to be held as soon as I arrived, as it was the last discussion the gang would have before the inevitable police attack coming our way.

        I tell him I'll be there as soon as I can and hang up, abandoning my Netflix and rushing to my bedroom to get ready. As soon as I enter, I'm greeted with the faint smell of Jonah's cologne. I even see the bottle on my dresser, next my own cologne.

        I see some of his clothes scattered on my floor in a small pile; clothes he wore over and stripped out of just to slip on some of my clothes instead. It's like he's moved in and I let him without giving him permission. I don't even feel bad about it. Well, at least, not entirely. It's not so bad to have him around. He's made me forget how lonely I was before him, but at the same time he's introduced me to fear now that he's mine. I'm certain that I am the worst ever person for him, but he told me some time ago that he doesn't think that. A heart-warming talk that was.

        I let Jonah leave my mind for the time being and change into my usual suit and tie, then I head out of the house and start walking toward base. It's a helluva workout, but walking is the least suspicious. Who would follow a wannabe-businessman for whatever reason at all?

        Eventually, I make it to the seemingly abandoned domain and step inside with permission from the guards. Immediately, I notice something strange. Not all the ceiling lights are on. It's not like all of them worked or anything, but--the dimly lit ones aren't on like they usually should be.

        The only light on is the one in the center, burning bright and white like a spotlight.

        I look back at the guards who stand by the door unmoving, masks hiding their expressions. My eyebrows furrow as I scrutinize them, but I turn my head forward when I hear the back door on the other side of the spacious room creak open, its echo strong in my ears.

        In walks Necksnapper, managing to hold intimidation well. His arms are crossed behind his back, and he's giving me an expectant look, as if I should be saying something. But I have no idea what to say.

        "Where are the others?" I ask, sounding more timid than I intended to. The empty room and the piercing glare boss is giving me is not what I was thinking when he said "final discussion" over the phone.

        "I didn't call for the others." He tells me coolly, his tone monotonous and indifferent.

        Oh.

        I sheepishly look down to the floor, enjoying the sight of the dirt more than my own boss's face.

        After a while, Necksnapper clears his throat and says, "There's been word around the streets that the police will attack any time this week. Tell me, have you anything? Anything at all from Clayton?"

        I gulp thickly, my mouth becoming drier than the Sahara desert in an instant. I look back up at Necksnapper, silently panicking. "I . . . "

        I watch him let out an exasperated breath. "Don't you fuckin' tell me you never got anything out of him this whole goddamn time!" He shouts. My jaw clenches. I don't respond.

        He throws his head back and rubs his face, turning away from me for a second before he's staring at me again with an even harder gaze. Necksnapper will finally live up to his name and snap my neck, huh? Oh boy.

        "I put my trust in you, Finley! Honestly, the task wasn't that hard! How could you disappoint me so much?!" He adds.

        "I'm sorry, okay?" I finally say, my voice now rised as well. "Things got out of hand--"

        "Out of hand, how? Hm?" Necksnapper interrupts me. I want to punch his mouth closed so I can get the chance to explain, but I can't even think of an explanation to spout. I conclude that it's best I be quiet.

        "Did you end up falling for Clayton instead of doing your job?" He continues angrily, "Even though you specifically told me you wouldn't?"

        "So what if I have?" So much for staying quiet. I can feel myself boil up now. I just want to shout at Necksnapper about how I willingly fell for the enemy with open arms and he shouldn't have a problem with it. I want to shout it so loud to the point of losing my voice so that way my argument could be mistaken as valid, because even though I've found this new hatred for Big Boss, I know his feelings are justified, and it'd be hypocritical to say otherwise just because he's a criminal.

        There's a long silence utterly submerged in tension when I finish talking. A part of me is saying I should be ashamed, ashamed that I fell for a man I wasn't supposed to fall for, ashamed that I didn't complete my job and go for the prize I would've been rewarded with had I not gone down this path. But I'm not ashamed. I fell for Jonah willingly, and that money is no longer the prize I want. All that's left for me now is Jonah, and I'll take him over cash any day.

        "I knew it." Necksnapper finally speaks. "I should've listened to you when you said you wanted to drop the case. I should've sent someone more reliable." There's another pause--shorter, heavier. "No matter." He adds in a much more casual tone. "Now, Antonio, you will be punished. I’ll remind you one last time that you brought this upon yourself." He looks over his shoulder and calls, "Boys!"

        I tense and stare at the back door with worry and confusion, waitng for someone to come out.

        As if on cue, two burly men step into the room--a pair I've secretly nicknamed Wingus and Dingus since our first meeting--holding a seemingly limp figure in their arms. I can't make out who the bag of flesh is until the three of them are put under the light, and when I realize who the victim is I nearly choke on air.

        My face pales and my body freezes into place as I see Jonah, barely conscious and barely breathing, beaten and bloodied.