A failed attempt
703 Words
Rhea
I wake up suddenly, my eyes adjusting to the dark room. After I’d been brought back to the room, I’d cried myself to sleep, unable to forgive myself for what happened to Ivan. The poor guy had just been trying to help, but somehow I’d managed to drag him down with me, unleashing the Lycan’s wrath on him instead. The realization that I’m not alone hits me suddenly, and I wonder how i didn’t notice this earlier, because his mere presence is magnetic and unmissable. I raise my head and with the minute amount of light coming through the cracks in the blinds I can just about make out Daciano’s vast form sleeping on the chair. One thick arm is flung over his head, his heavily muscled and tattooed chest bare. I don’t know when he entered the room, but the sight of him here, and the sound of his slow inhale and exhale fills me with a burning anger. I want to strangle him.
How can he sleep so peacefully after everything he’s done to me? He doesn’t deserve peace. He doesn’t deserve to breathe. I haven’t seen him since he killed Ivan. Brutally. Mercilessly. The memory fuels my hatred. I know I won’t hesitate to kill him if I get the chance. My heart pounds as I decide this might be the most vulnerable I’ll ever get to see him. This is the best chance I’ll get.
It must be well past midnight now. The night is quiet. I should make my move.
Slowly, I push back the covers and slide out of the bed, the floor is cold under my bare feet. I creep towards the door, holding my breath, praying with everything in me he doesn’t wake up.
I wonder if he locks his door at night?
I carefully test the old-fashioned handle. It moves easily beneath my hand.
With aching slowness, I crack open the door. I turn back to look at him, but he hasn’t stirred at all, still deep in sleep. I slip through the door, closing it silently behind me. Then I stand still, letting my eyes adjust to the gloom.
The building only has about three rooms, and I’m certain the kitchen would be one of them.
I maneuver my way around, and even with the dim lighting, I can still make out the elegance of the place. I see some of the deco that I hadn’t noticed before when I was brought in, and it’s certain that whoever decorated this place has taste and refinement. I move slowly, ever so slowly through the building, until I find the kitchen. There, I open a drawer, feeling around until my fingers close around the handle of a small, sharp knife. It’s not much, but it should be able to get the job done. One chance. I grip it tightly, my hands shaking a little and I have to breathe slowly till it steadies.
I make my way back to the room, and push the door open, entering inside. Daciano is still there, his breathing deep and even. Holding my breath, I approach the bed. Nothing could be more silent than my feet, taking step after step across the cold floor. I can almost hear my own heartbeat, loud and fast.
I’ve watched him from a distance. I’ve seen his intensity, his ferocity. The way everyone snaps to attention when he comes close, the way they obey his orders without question. I’ve seen his vigilance, the look of intelligence on his face. And, of course, I’ve seen his massive, powerful body.
I don’t want to get in a scuffle with this man. So I know I can’t make any mistakes.
Daciano’s head is thrown back on the headrest of his chair, his throat exposed. His dark hair tumbles across his eyes. His lips are slightly parted. His breathing hasn’t changed—it’s still a steady metronome. But I’m about to put a stop to it.
As I raise my right hand in the air, above his neck, I can’t help glancing one more time at Daciano’s face.
But he’s no longer asleep, as I find his dark blue eyes are open, staring up at me.
- Writer
