𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡

𝟑𝟒 | 𝐚 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧

... THE WEEK BEFORE ...

Lucifer hit the frame along the wall and shards of glass shattered all around. One shard dug into his palm, where he held a photograph. The pain caused by the cut was small, barely noticeable. What really hurt him and gnawed his inside like a rodent gnawing on cheese, was grief. Loss of three smiling faces from the photo.

Then he realized that he could lose the last of them. Although he had already lost her, partly. This happened because of who he was, and who he always will be – Lucifer O'Donnell – a feared and unstoppable assassin.

His wife, Beatrice, was in danger and he couldn't allow anything to happen to her or his daughter. He had to be faster than White and do his best to keep his girls safe.

He wondered whether to leave the photo here or to take it with him, constantly reminding himself of what he once had. Decided to take it, he bent it twice and shoved it into his trouser pocket, exchanging it for a lighter, which he held tightly in his hands. It's time to let this place turn to ashes, he thought, ready to watch the fiery flames engulf this whole house.

The floor behind him cracked loudly, and Lucifer immediately recognized who it was.

White's men.

The reflection of the white suits told him so. He never liked white because it seemed too innocent and pure. According to him, no one was completely innocent. Each of us has done something in life that we still regret. Things that can't just be overlooked. Errors that are not washed off by one "sorry".

"You're here early," Lucifer muttered, turning his head. That could one mean one thing – the fun starts much earlier.

"Don't move, or I'll shoot!" a young man whimpered at him. Is White's team missing real guys, or does he just have a weakness for inexperienced ones? Lucifer was laughing inside.

The voice of the person speaking shook. He was driven by fear and being scared is the easiest way to get rid of such people.

"Please," Lucifer shouted between the mad laughter, "I'm sure you don't even know how to hold a gun properly." He was about to turn around.

"Don't turn around!" the young man snapped again. Lucifer shook his head in surprise and did the exact opposite of what he was told.

"Don't turn around?" He repeated, looking at three men in clean suits. Well, he was not sure if these cowards could be called men at all. The youngest of them, the one who spoke, could have been about nineteen. His hand shook wildly, streams of sweat pouring from his forehead. Next to him stood a slightly older, but not braver boy. The third guarded the door. Three on one? Easy peasy, Lucifer grinned and dramatically spread his arms as if he had wings.

"I want to look you in the frightened eyes as I kill you," Lucifer pointed out, tossing the lighter to the ground. It ignited on contact with gasoline, and the fire caught the youngest of them, who immediately cried out in a painful spasm. His partners were too slow to realize what had just happened. They didn't fire at Lucifer until he had managed to hide behind the wall and pull out his gun.

The flames, meanwhile, have risen to dangerous heights. The orange tongues licked everything in their path, turning it to ashes. A desperate call for help only added terror to the hot hell they were in. The smoke spread too fast and began to irritate Lucifer's lungs. White's bounce number two ran after him, but he cut him off before he could even get close to him. The third rushed into the garden with Lucifer chasing him. He wasn't going to let him run. First, he hated cowards, and second, he didn't like leaving things unfinished.

"Save my time and stop hiding like a little kid," Lucifer said, his hand running over the grainy wall of Juliet's house while in the second, he held a murder weapon ready to fire. He was sure the third boy hadn't gone far because he heard his startled breathing.

"Tell your fucking boss," he said coldly as he found his opponent lying huddled in the bushes. My God, was he really supposed to kill me? He looked into the young face and for a moment he saw himself in it. A little boy who chose the harder path of life just to help his family. Who knew that this monster would grow out of him?

No.

He should be grateful. He got where he is. He has influence, respect, people are afraid of him... he is no longer a frightened child begging for mafia membership. He doesn't have to prove anything to anyone. He does what he wants when he wants, and no Carmine William White will force him to change it.

"You know what, young man? Just forget it," Lucifer changed his mind, and the boy's pupils stretched out. A spark of hope appeared in them, thinking he was about to be pardoned. He waited for Lucifer to stop aiming at him and allow him to leave. Instead, he said: "I'll tell him myself."

And that's when the boy found out it was over.

"Please don't!" he shouted, covering his face with his hands as Lucifer leaned closer to the shaking body.

"The mafia never asks for mercy," he proclaimed and pulled the trigger. For a moment, he stared at the red blood seeping into the white color. And that's why I prefer black.

With a devilish smile, he walked away, leaving behind four corpses and a burning house.