The moon illuminates the sky, but not enough for me to get a good look at the guy. Crossing the short distance that stands between us, I reach out and grab his shoulder, turning him around quickly and pushing his body against the brick wall.
Reaching for my gun on reflex, I realize I have forgotten to grab it. I never forget to grab it. Her.
Ah. Fuck it. Hand to hand it is. Looking at the guy, I am not really worried. His face is heavy, and his eyes hold a secret that I plan on getting out of him.
“Who the fuck are you?” I growl. I am six…five…no, about one second away from ripping his fucking face off.
“I…” he stutters. I can see the fear, feel it coming off of him. I may have even got a whiff of piss.
“Did you just piss your pants?” I yell in his face. Spit escapes my mouth and clings to his face. He doesn’t even move to wipe it away.
A whimper escapes his lips, but that isn’t good enough for me. A whimper isn’t an answer.
“I’m going to ask you nicely one more time. WHO THE FUCK SENT YOU?” My words vibrate within me. My teeth clench as my body begs to unleash hell on this fucker’s ass.
“I work….” Well, we are making progress - two fucking words is better than one, but it isn’t the answer I want.
Gripping him by the throat, I rip the knife from my ankle where I always keep it and press it firmly against his throat. Blood trickles from the cut, but I am not done. I will be bathing in his blood by the end of this if he doesn’t provide me with answers.
“Tell me…” I snarl, pushing the knife in with more force. His eyes widen and his breaths become pants. He is going to have a heart attack if I don’t kill him soon.
“Luccio,” he says the name like it is one he knows well. I narrow my eyes at him, trying to determine if he is in fact telling the truth. Luccio had been the very person to warn me… Could he be the person who set me up to begin with?
“What about him? Tell me everything or so help me fucking God, I will cut your throat open and watch you suffocate.” Each word is something I mean. I don’t make promises; I just do it.
“I work with him…” Tilting my head at him, I grip his shoulder harder. “What are you doing on my property?”
“I can’t tell you…”
“Well, that’s a shame then…” Taking the knife, I slide it across his throat. Blood pools from him as if he is a leaky faucet. I watch the life leave his eyes as his last breaths are nothing but gurgles. Then I bend down, place a kiss against his forehead, and go on with my way. I will find out who it is he worked for and what they wanted.
Bree
“Let me the fuck out of here!” I scream as my hands grip the bars with a ferociousness that hurts my skin. I have been locked down in this hell hole for days. The only way I can tell if it is day or night is from the tiny small window placed above my cell that has bars across it.
The only things that can be heard are my pointless pleas for release. Zerro said he would come back, but that was two days ago. Two fucking days I have sat down here waiting and silently hoping for him to come. Then again, at the mere mention of his name, I want to gouge his eyes out.
He causes butterflies to erupt in my stomach, but at the same time he makes me want to puke. The thought of being attracted to him—wanting him - makes me sick. How can I want such a heartless killer? It is as if God is playing a cruel game with my emotions.
Since listening to my own pleas is exasperating, I pull myself away from the bars and throw myself onto the make shift bed. There is no way out of this hell hole other than through the door that I obviously don’t have a key to. Mack hasn’t come down to check on me for hours, but I am relieved about that. He scares me and creeps me out. I know if given the chance, he would fuck me and then kill me without a second thought.
When he came down the time before last, his neck had purple bruises on it. He looked as if he had been choked, but I was not going to ask him about it. I don’t think Zerro has it in him to kill his own kind, family or friends. It doesn’t seem like something he would do.
Neither does keeping me alive, but here I am. He has yet to hurt me, at least in a manner that makes it so he is actually doing so. The bruise on my face isn’t okay with me, but it is completely different than being beaten. He hasn’t touched me, and mostly everything he does is a mind game…
I am not afraid that a part of me wants him. It is a dark part of me, something that craves the fear and darkness that only he can bring out in me. I am not stupid, though. I know the path that he is on that will only lead to death. I don’t want that; I want to live. I want to be happy and go to college and grow old with someone who loves me.