Forced to kill
1116 Words
I stopped, intending to reason with her, but then I felt her hand clasping mine. My gaze lifted to her face.
"Come on, don’t be afraid." Davina’s voice was smooth, almost reassuring. "This mansion has two dining halls. We're a family, so we eat together. But the boss? He doesn't eat with the whores and the men. They’re the lowest in the house. He dines with the higher ranks—us."
I blinked. "Like us?"
She shook her head with a smirk. "Like you and me. Don't worry. In time, you'll know who belongs where. And once you’re sworn in, the sluts won’t be able to look down on you anymore."
Her words lingered in my mind. This was getting funnier than I expected. My astonishment melted into amusement.
Then her phone buzzed. She sighed, brushing her short hair behind her ear as she glanced at the screen.
"I need to get to work. You’ll be fine, right?"
I hesitated before nodding. "Uh… yeah, I will."
She smiled and pulled me into a quick hug before walking away.
I exhaled, looking ahead, cursing under my breath.
I was alone. Time to make some moves.
---
The mansion was massive, with cameras positioned at every corner. From the second floor, I spotted two enormous men guarding the front entrance. Getting past them was impossible.
I turned, scanning the hallway for other exits. A guard stood nearby, alert and watching, and right in front of me was an elevator.
I smirked.
Pressing the blue button, I stepped inside as the doors slid open. I knew the cameras were watching me, so I lifted my middle finger at them and muttered, "f**k you."
A soft ding signaled my arrival. As the doors opened, a wave of unease crashed over me. The last time I was up here, someone had died. My chest tightened as the memory clawed at me.
Then I heard something—muffled voices.
I wasn’t alone.
Fuck.
I turned, intending to leave, but a sharp voice cut through the air.
"Guardami, idiota." (Look at me, idiot.)
I froze.
I knew that voice.
A voice I could recognize even in my sleep.
Heart pounding, I tiptoed toward the source of the sound, careful not to make a noise. Peeking from behind a wall, I spotted a group of men dressed in sleek black suits. My eyes landed on Zavi, lounging in a chair, smoking fiercely, his gaze locked on the scene before him.
And then I saw him.
A man, probably in his thirties, stood in the middle of the room. His lip was busted, his right eye swollen shut. Blood dripped from his nose. His face was a mess.
I flinched.
Zavi’s lips curled into a sly smile, the kind he used whenever he wanted to scare me. And, f**k, he was still hot as hell.
"Perché l'hai fatto?" His voice was smooth, effortlessly commanding. (Why did you do it?)
Silence. The man didn’t answer.
Zavi sighed, bored. Then, with a flick of his fingers, he muttered, "Uccidilo." (Kill him.)
My stomach dropped.
A sharp gasp escaped me before I could stop it.
Zavi’s gaze snapped to mine.
Shit.
I shrank back, heart hammering.
"Wait." His order sliced through the room, halting his men. Confusion flickered across their faces.
Then his cold eyes locked onto me.
"Come here."
My heart nearly stopped.
Oh, hell no.
I should’ve gone to my room after breakfast.
My mind screamed one thing—
RUN.
I spun on my heel and bolted.
Footsteps thundered behind me. I sprinted toward the elevator, but before I could reach it, strong hands yanked me off my feet.
I kicked and thrashed. "Fàg mi, you blood-sucking d**k!" I shouted in Scottish Gaelic. (Leave me!)
The brute carrying me didn’t flinch. He dumped me unceremoniously in front of Zavi. I stumbled, barely keeping my balance.
I refused to look at him.
"Are you learning, little galla?" His voice was laced with amusement. (Bitch.)
I clenched my fists. f*****g man-w***e.
"Leave me alone." My voice was louder than I intended. The room fell silent.
Zavi lifted a hand.
"Hand her the gun, Slayer."
Wait… what?
My head snapped up. My blank expression met his amused one.
What the f**k?
One of his men extended a sleek, deadly pistol toward me.
"Take the gun." Zavi’s voice was almost gentle.
I hesitated.
His patience wore thin. He grabbed a 9mm pistol from the table and pointed it right at my face.
My breath hitched. My hands trembled as I reached for the gun. The cold metal felt heavier than I expected.
"Kill him."
My stomach churned.
"No, please," I whispered, my voice cracking.
Zavi’s finger hovered over his trigger. "Or you die."
My chest tightened. Fear surged through me, choking me.
"KILL HIM."
Tears blurred my vision. My hands shook violently, but I raised the gun, aiming at the battered man before me.
"1… 2…"
BANG.
My whole body stiffened.
I barely registered the weight of the gun in my hand. The only thing I saw was the hole in the man’s head. Blood gushed from the wound, trickling down his lifeless face. His frozen eyes stared back at me.
My knees buckled.
Zavi exhaled. "Now, that’s more like it." He stepped closer. "Get used to it."
A violent tremor wracked my body. My fingers tightened around the gun. Slowly, I turned—
and aimed it straight at his face.
His lips twitched, amused.
"I’m going to f*****g kill you." My voice shook, but my grip on the gun didn’t.
His men immediately raised their weapons, guns trained on me.
Zavi, however, remained still. "Go on."
I didn’t lower my aim.
"Do you think I’m afraid of death?" I hissed. "Hell, I’d be happy to rot in it if it meant dragging you with me."
His smile deepened. "Then pull the trigger."
I did.
Nothing.
Silence.
No bang. No recoil. Nothing.
Realization struck me like a thunderclap.
The gun was empty.
I barely had time to process it before Zavi stood, closing the distance between us.
I stumbled back, panic clawing at my chest.
"There was only one bullet," he murmured, his lips brushing my ear. "You wasted it. That’s the difference between you and me—I calculate, I kill, and I don’t fear death."
My breath caught in my throat.
He pulled back, looking me over. "I must admit, though… you’ve got nerve."
His gaze flicked to one of his men.
"Lock her up. No food for two days."
I barely had time to react before I was dragged away.
Zavi turned his back on me, humming softly—
like this was just one of his moments.
- Writer
