JAYCE POV
Chaos erupts.
In seconds, blood and gore stains the floor and walls. The gargle of guests as they choke on their own blood.
Groans and grunts of fighters.
Cracking of bones.
Roaring of the injured and the deafening BANG of guns as bullets find their destinations in chests and foreheads.
The woman who stood next to my father not a second before has joined the fray and now carves a path of bodies through the room. Slicing, dicing. Stabbing and grabbing.
Absolute slaughter.
Screams for mercy fill the humid air.
"PLEASE STOP! I'LL GIVE YOU ANYTHING!" A bullet buries itself in the woman's brain.
"13, 22! HEAD DOWNSTAIRS!" A man and woman both wearing blue run from their fight and to a back-door staircase.
"FUCKING BITCH!" A man collapses with a knife in his thigh.
I can't do anything but stand stock still as a balding man coughs up blood and grasps his chest. Then he collapses and the breathing stops.
THUD
THUD
THUD
Bodies hit the floor.
In the midst of the destruction I can see the greying man – Eugene? – run toward the exit of the arena of death. Aaron carving their path with the whispering of his blades.
My ears ring. A never-ending high-pitched squeal. I can just make out the yell of my father as he grabs me.
Then I'm being shoved. Tripping over dead bodies. Soaking up their blood with my suit. We run toward the door. So close. I can taste the escape.
But the woman, our personal guard not moments before, blocks our path. She looks at me, and I feel a flash of recognition, but it's gone just as quick as blood sprays in goops against my cheek.
Then all too quick, my father is kicked in the chest and crashing to the ground. The lady in that small bikini, almost auctioned off minutes ago, steps a healed foot on his chest. A gun pointed to his chest.
As though in slow motion, I watch my father raise his head, eyes bleary. His hand goes to reach for something in his pocket.
Then a shot rings out and my father is dead.
His blood splatters into my eyes, burning my pupils. I stagger back, senses squealing. I can't see. I can't hear.
In a red haze, vision blurred I make out the shape of the Korean woman as that same gun points at my chest.
Before I can close my eyes and accept death, the strange lady in the black dress and white wig, grabs the barrel of the gun and, as though some secret conversation had been exchanged, my father's murderer moves off to continue her slaughter.
Then I'm grabbed by my shoulders.
The same lady who saved me, now dragging me from the fray. Sparks alight at her touch, searing my skin. So familiar, yet I can't think as my father's death clouds my thoughts.
He's dead.
He's actually dead.
I am dragged, tripping over my own feet, still staring at my father's figure on the tile. His life staining the floors.
I'm shoved in a room seconds later. Dark and smelling of detergent. Pushed to the ground with a whispered, "stay!" and the dealer of death who saved me is gone.
Her voice breaks through the fog in my mind.
With that one word all, the shattered pieces of the world fall into place. The puzzle completing.
"Sunshine?"
---
OMG HE KNOWS!!!
What's going to happen next? Keep reading to find out!!!!
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Her Shadows
Storie d'amore~ A World Painted Grey: Book 1 ~ Already incapacitated, I drag his limp body toward the smoking car. Fastening him back into his seat, seatbelt back in place. Then I grip his skull with my glove-clad hands and ram his head into the steering wheel. O...
