“Get off! Get the fuck off, you bastards!”
The laughter that rose from the men surrounding Lorenzo made the ifrit’s blood boil; he grit his teeth, eyes blazing as his arms were wrenched behind him, coarse rope digging into his flesh as his wrists were tightly bound. Renzo breathed heavily through his nose, staring at the half dozen or so men who were all grinning at him. Bounty hunters, Lorenzo suspected, or perhaps slavers. Didn’t matter. Lorenzo glanced over at their wagon, scowling. It was an open-air horse-drawn cart; there was no way they could keep him contained in something like that. He would just need to wait for an opportunity to jump out.
The ropes were still being wrapped around him, moving from his wrists around his chest, tightly constricting him. One looped around Lorenzo’s neck and back, and another around and around his ankles, cinching them tightly together and restraining them close to his bound wrists.
“You think that’s gonna help?” Renzo growled; every time the ropes got tighter, he felt as if the anger in him was pushed closer to the surface, “Once I get out of this I’ll cut every one of your fucking throats…”
More snickers from the crowd. The laughter made Renzo feel like he was seconds from exploding into flame; he could imagine his sword driving straight into their grinning faces. Bloody cowards.
“You’re not gonna have a chance, kid,” said one of the men, nodding to a couple of others, “Go grab the chest.”
Renzo’s eyes narrowed as the pair pulled a heavy wooden chest from the back of the cart; it was large enough to need two people to carry, and it thumped heavily when they set it down on the grass in front of Lorenzo. He craned his neck to see inside when it was opened, but, to his confusion, there was nothing inside.
Then, understanding hit the ifrit just before the bandit said, “Get him inside.”
Lorenzo jolted hard, falling forward onto his face to the sound of laughter. His golden eyes were wide, sudden fear hitting him like a crossbow bolt to the heart. Rough hands grabbed Renzo from behind, gripping his shirt, his arms, winding painfully through his long ponytail. The group lifted Lorenzo with ease despite his thrashing and dropped him into the large chest with a painful thump. His head hit the bottom and he flinched, trying to twist himself upright.
Renzo had just a second to look up at the sky, and the men’s faces silhouetted against it before the lid was slammed shut, blocking out all the light. There was a heavy, metallic clicking sound: a padlock being secured into place.
Lorenzo raked in a harsh, shuddering gasp. He felt as if he’d been stabbed; suddenly, all the air seemed to have been drawn from his lungs. His chest hurt, his heart beginning to pound hard in his rib cage.
Renzo thrashed back and forth, and the shoulder that most of his weight was on spasmed painfully. The chest was big enough to fit his hogtied body, but barely; the sides pressed into him, his head touching one end, feet pressed to the other. Lorenzo’s breathing grew more hitched, more rapid. Behind his back, he twisted his hands desperately in their bindings trying to wriggle loose. The coarse rope was wearing abrasions into the delicate skin of his wrists, but the bindings themselves were tight, and Renzo could feel his mind starting to dull with panic.
No light, no air...I can’t...I can’t breathe…
“You’ll...hah...you’ll pay...for this…!” Renzo shouted. His voice sounded small and frightened, even to his own ears, and Renzo could feel himself trembling, his muscles contracting as if he had been dropped into an ice-covered lake. There was a shifting, a sudden sensation of motion, and Lorenzo realized the box was being lifted, planted back onto the cart. “Stop! Let me out, I’m...I’m fucking warning you…!”
There was no response. Lorenzo didn’t even know if his voice could be heard outside of the chest. His breathing became more frantic, more shallow, each tiny, desperate inhale felt like it was making him more lightheaded. The darkness in the chest seemed like a physical thing, bearing down on Lorenzo, crushing his lungs. Each inhale was like breathing in fire, each exhale shorter and more panicked. He shut his eyes, white spots flashing in front of his vision.
“Let me out...let me…” Lorenzo’s voice was fainter; he felt like his head was full of cotton. His chest ached, his limbs tensed to the point of soreness, “Please...please...pl...ea...se…”
Then, as the walls of the chest seemed to press into Renzo and the movement of the cart shook him, he took in one more pained gasp of air before he fell into merciful unconsciousness.
