52 : Sebastian

Flashback.

“Your blood is on my shirt, Fitz.” I rolled up my shirt sleeves, hiding the bloodstain in question. “That was the third attack.”

He glared at me, his expression rebellious under the blood and bruises. He was tied to a chair, his arms and legs bound with rope. He was the only one of Killian Davenport's accomplices still conscious. The other two slumped in their chairs, their heads buzzing and their blood hitting the floor steadily, dripping and continuing to drip. Some of their limbs were bent at unnatural angles.

“You talk too much.” Fitz spat out a mouthful of dark red liquid. Firtz Davenport. An ex-criminal with a mile-long rap sheet, steel balls, and a brain the size of a walnut-like his older brother.

I smiled, then hit him again. His head jerked back, and an agonized groan filled the air. My bruised knuckles stung. This room was my private room, which was not clean. Far from my clean and cozy bedroom, there was copper, sweat, and the thick, irritating scent of fear. T