BOUND TO HIM BY FORCE

17. NO MERCY FOR THE WICKED

Maximus dropped onto his knees, following the mic with his hands placed together to beg.

“Mercy sir,” Maximus begged, and I could not help but watch. I did not know what Azrail would do to them. I knew he would not kill them; they were too many for him to kill and they were cartel leaders. He could not do that.

“Tonight, I want to make something very clear, so listen because I will not repeat myself again,” Azrail said, my body turning cold, my heart seeming to have stopped beating in fear. I was so scared of him I would cry. Even though he was there to rescue me, I was not immune to his effect. I wanted to cry just from seeing him as if I had wronged him, but I had.

The men were all pale, everyone in that room, so pale, not knowing where they would be by the end of the night.

“That is my wife. Her name is not Masha Vasiliev. Her name is Masha Duran and anyone or anything related to her. I don’t care, even if it’s her dog. They are protected by me, ME Maximus!”

“And if anyone dares to touch even a single hair on any of them, they will be touching me. And I don’t like being touched.” Azrail said, turning around, his eyes going over the room.

“Kill them all, leave that one, that one, and that one. My tools have been hanging for way too long in my torture room.” Those were Azrail’s words with him turning and walking towards the stage.

Tears filled my eyes, the men that were in black suits pushed from the wall, each picking a person and slitting their throat. Those that tried to run away were not given much attention, they had nowhere to go, all the doors were locked. They ran around the room until they broke down, their knees hitting the floor with them begging, but no one paid mind to them, and to that, they got even more scared.

The walls were painted red. Screams and cries of men as they surrounded themselves. They did not even fight, just sat there, waiting for the men in suits to come and slit their throats while tears streamed down their faces.

It was something I had never seen; it was more horrible than anything I had ever seen. It was just plain murder and when the victims give up the fight and just wait for death, it became scarier.

.

My body shook, not able to tear my eyes away, not able to stop watching each body that dropped to the floor.

I could see Azrail from the corner of my eye. He was coming to me and I found myself wanting to crawl away but I was stuck. The men that had been restraining me just went on their knees and surrendered.

Azrail took out two knives from his coat, his eyes on me and never leaving. I cried, the men beside me crying too, all weeping and shaking as badly as I was.

The knives were turned in Azrail’s hands, like a master chef about to skin his meat to perfection. They were pointed, only for him to slit the first two men with blood spraying all over his suit along with his coat. My body got most of it, the flimsy dress that was transparent, stained along with my skin. I was turned to Carrie, blood covering me and through all that, my eyes were held by his. He did not look away, slitting a throat while staring at me. I heaved, nothing but death on his face, nothing but death in his dead eyes.

My blood ran cold to warm up again, nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.

He held the last man to him as the man clung to Azrail, with his eyes closed just as the knife went around his neck, he held on until his body swung to the side and collapsed on the floor with a thud.

I could not even scream, the devil turning and walking towards me.

I was next on his list and, lord, help us all.

I thought I would lose my mind from the fear. I could not take it, so scared it should not have been real. He was a killer, he was a psychopath, destroying everything in his way. How could he take a life so easily?

They all deserved it and I had wished for him to kill them all but the way he had, the way it had happened, the way he was. Did he even have some humanity in him? He seemed like a beast, he seemed heartless and careless.

His face was stoic as always, blank and with nothing to read. It was not that he was hiding his emotions or masking his emotions away. He did not have emotions at all. He was not hiding anything, he was just empty, just nothing but darkness, and hell. I was staring right at Lucifer.

He reached me, my eyes closing on their own with his scent hitting my nostrils. He got so close, his chest on my face, finding myself pressed on his muscles, his skin burning hot from his crimson shirt.

I was about to be sold to mafia leaders who had wanted my blood more than anything. I was about to be sold to my father’s enemies who would r*pe and break me until I could not even speak, but why was I more afraid at that moment? My levels of fear just kept escalating just when I thought I had hit the limit. I could not take it, my heart could not take it, I could not take always being this scared, always being in such danger.

His arms went around me, taking something up from behind the thing I was tied to. I heard the sound of keys ruffling, my eyes closed, tears streaming with my whole body shaking. He took a step back.

Everything about him was too much, too overwhelming. My eyes opened with some air between us. He unlocked my right hand first. It fell away, so much pain exploding all through my body but nothing compared to the fear I was feeling. The left hand was next, then he bent down.

My body was so frail, yet even in my weak state, I would rather shatter than lean on him. My feet were undone and he stood up. My worst nightmare. I stood where I was, my chest moving up and down. His eyes came to me and I knew I was in sh*t.

His hand came up, seeing it covered in nothing but blood. The knife was still in his hand, gripping it as he pointed it to me. He was beyond angry, the edge of the knife touching my skin, placed right on my throat.

I felt it break the skin, I felt the blood roll and coat around the sharp knife.

“Nothing goes unpunished.”