Leah craned her neck to see what exactly it was, soon finding it to be the hostage – Hilary Tompkins, wife of the British Ambassador. She had been kidnapped two days ago in broad daylight, her two bodyguards executed before her eyes. She was strapped to a chair with a gag placed in her mouth to muffle her hopeless screams. One of the men pulled a knife and began walking towards her, ever so slowly as if to increase the suspense. The woman’s green eyes grew as wide as saucers and were filled with furious tears. A mixture and anger and apprehension balled up in Leah’s stomach. Suddenly another henchman poked his head in the door, causing the man with the knife to stop and look over. They exchanged a few words before the first man flicked the knife closed and all three went out of the room, closing the door behind them. Leah could see the hostage breathed a sigh of relief – something in Leah’s mind suddenly clicked over – now was the time to get her out of there. With a swift kick, the. The chain swings more and more as he gets lower, his movements causing the chain to swing like a giant pendulum. The ankle length black leather jacket he wears billows out from his body exposing a chiselled chest under a fitted shirt and gleaming hilts at his belt. Finally reaching the cage, he squats to peer over the edge and judges the distance to the ground. His dark hair is waxed into a mohawk running the length of his head easily standing 2 inches high. Ice blue eyes narrow in a face set with hard features and a strong jaw line, flashing as he calculates. Reaching to his waist, he moves his jacket aside to remove a coiled leather whip. Eyeing the floor he skilfully flicks the end to curl around the chain. Breathing deeply he swings silently to the floor landing in a half kneel, hand resting on the belt of blades as his eyes sharply peer around the room to ascertain he remains alone. Rising slowly he relaxes as he looks around the room and deftly uncoils the whip to coil it back.
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