BRIDE OF DECEPTION

CH 7: THE KILL

Annie's POV

I twisted my body and managed to slip out of Anthony's grip, spinning him around as we continued our fight. We threw punches and grabbed at each other until we were both breathing hard and exhausted. I spotted a heavy metallic object on the nearby shelf and grabbed it, swinging it hard against his head. The impact made a sick thudding sound and Anthony staggered backward.

I picked up the snooker stick that had fallen during our struggle and broke it over my knee, leaving me with a sharp pointed end. Anthony was on the floor now, looking up at me with wide eyes as I stood over him with the makeshift weapon.

"Please," he said, his voice desperate. "I have two children and a wife. Think about them."

I wanted to let him go. Every part of me that was still normal and decent wanted to drop the broken stick and walk away. But I knew he would come after me the moment I left. He would tell people what I looked like, where I had been, what I had done.

I shook my head slowly. "I'm sorry."

"You are human," Anthony said, still trying to reach whatever humanity he thought was left in me. "You can't possibly kill me."

I looked down at him and felt something cold settle in my chest. "Do we even have humanity? We are all monsters. So this ends now."

I drove the sharp end of the stick into his chest.

Anthony's eyes went wide and he made a choking sound. But I didn't stop there.

I pulled it out and stabbed him again and again until he stopped moving and his eyes stared at nothing. Even then I kept going because somewhere in my mind I was terrified he might get back up and kill me first.

When I finally stopped, blood covered my hands and arms and had splattered across my clothes. I stared down at Anthony's body and realized this was the second person I had killed. My hands were shaking as I pulled out my phone and called Tobin.

"I had to kill him," I said when he answered. "Anthony Rossi is dead."

"Where are you?" Tobin asked without any emotion in his voice.

I gave him the address of the suite at Kent Station. "He figured out I wasn't Claire and tried to strangle me. I had no choice."

"Don't move. Don't touch anything else. Just wait."

The line went dead and I stood there in the blood soaked room, trying not to look at what I had done. About twenty minutes later, the doorbell rang. I heard Tobin's voice through the door telling me to open it.

I unlocked the door and Tobin stepped inside with two other men I didn't recognize. He looked at Anthony's body, then at me, but didn't say anything at first.

One of the men, who seemed to be Tobin's right hand, spoke up. "Anthony Rossi is part of the main family line. If they find out about this, it means war between us and them."

Tobin just nodded. "Did you find where she is?" he asked me.

"She's in Spain. Barcelona, near the beach area. She was the one who called Anthony while we were fighting. That's how he knew I wasn't her."

Tobin nodded again, still showing no emotion about the dead body in the room or the blood all over me.

Jack, his right hand man, pressed the issue. "What are we going to do about this? If the Rossi family finds out what happened here, hell will break loose. We can't handle that kind of heat right now."

There was silence for several seconds. I thought for sure Tobin would throw me under the bus to avoid problems with the Rossi family. With his uncle dead, he couldn't afford another war. I expected him to hand me over and let them deal with me however they wanted.

Instead, Tobin surprised me. "Get her cleaned up," he said to his men. "One of you prepare fresh clothes for her. I want this place scrubbed spotless. Call me when you're finished."

With that, he turned and walked toward the door. Jack tried to follow him, still arguing that they should just give me up to avoid the conflict, but Tobin didn't respond. He just left without another word.

Two women appeared shortly after Tobin left. They didn't speak to me or ask questions about what had happened. One of them started undressing me right there in the bloody room while the other began running water in the bathroom. I let them strip off my clothes without resistance. I was too numb and exhausted to care about modesty.

They led me into the bathroom where warm water was already filling the tub. I stepped into it and just stood there while they washed the blood from my skin. The water turned pink and then red as they scrubbed my arms and hands clean. I watched it swirl down the drain and tried not to think about what it meant.

I had killed two people in four days. Four days ago I was just a regular girl trying to figure out how to pay for college. I had dreams about graduating and finding someone to love and getting married someday. Now those plans seemed like they belonged to someone else entirely.

But standing there in that blood tinged water, I made myself accept what I had become. I needed to do whatever it took to survive in this world I had been dragged into. There was no going back to who I used to be.

The women helped me wash my hair and made sure every trace of blood was gone from under my fingernails. They were thorough and professional about it, like they had done this kind of cleanup before. When they were satisfied I was completely clean, they helped me out of the tub and dried me off with thick towels.

I walked out of the bathroom naked and found Tobin already waiting in the main room. The body was gone and someone had mopped up all the blood. It looked like nothing had happened there.

"Claire has been located in Spain," Tobin said without acknowledging my nakedness. "She's staying at a hotel called Casa Marina, about two blocks from Barceloneta Beach."

He handed me a piece of paper with an address written on it. "Get dressed. We're both going to Spain tonight."

One of the women brought me new clothes and I put them on while Tobin waited. Everything fit perfectly, which meant they had been prepared in advance. Tobin had known this might happen and had come ready to handle the cleanup.

"Why are you protecting me?" I asked as I pulled on the shirt they had brought me. "You could avoid a lot of trouble by just handing me over to the Rossi family."

Tobin looked at me for a long moment before answering. "Because you're useful to me alive. Dead, you're just a problem I have to solve."

It wasn't a particularly comforting answer, but it was honest. I was alive because Tobin needed me, not because he cared what happened to me. That was something I could understand and work with.

"When do we leave?" I asked.

"Now. My plane is waiting at the airport."

I followed Tobin out of the suite, leaving behind any traces of the girl I used to be. Anthony Rossi was dead because of me, and soon his family would start looking for answers. But for now, I was under Tobin's protection, and that would have to be enough.

As we drove toward the airport, I stared out the window and tried not to think about the weight of what I had done. Two people were dead because of me. Two families would be mourning tonight because I had chosen to survive instead of die.

But I was still alive, and Claire was waiting in Barcelona. Whatever happened next, I would face it the same way I had faced Anthony Rossi. I would do whatever it took to keep breathing, even if it meant becoming someone I didn't recognize.

The plane was small but luxurious, with leather seats and enough room for both of us to sit comfortably during the flight. Tobin didn't talk much during takeoff, just made a few phone calls to people I couldn't identify.

When we were in the air, he finally looked at me directly. "When we get to Barcelona, you stay close to me. Don't try to handle Claire on your own like you did with Anthony. I need her alive and cooperative."

"What if she runs when she sees us?"

"She won't get far. I have people watching the hotel already."

I nodded and settled back in my seat. Spain was only a few hours away, and then I would finally come face to face with the woman whose identity I had been borrowing. The woman whose life had somehow become tangled up with mine in ways I still didn't fully understand.

But first, I needed to get through this flight without thinking about Anthony's eyes going empty or the sound the broken snooker stick made when it went into his chest. I needed to focus on what came next instead of what I had left behind in that blood soaked suite.

I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, but every time I started to drift off, I saw Anthony's face again. It was going to be a long flight to Barcelona.