Mikhail

4

He still hadn't seen me. I watched him walking down the street in a black hoodie, eyes darting around, obviously looking for his next prey.

I was still seething from having seen him stabbing his robber victim last night after she'd failed to give him anything substantial.

He hadn't even cared that she truly hadn't had much on her. He'd only cared about his needs. He was part of the reason people couldn't take a stroll at night without looking over their shoulders.

After he'd stabbed the woman in the stomach, he'd run off before I could get to him. I'd called the ambulance and they'd taken her in.

The medics had told me to call the police and I had. They'd been suspicious of me but the woman had already clarified to them that I wasn't the one who stabbed her.

She didn't survive. The wound had been too deep and she'd lost too much blood. The officer had swore to find her killer and make him pay, but I knew how things worked around here.

Camera's were nonexistent in this town and finding him would take time. Hell, they probably would've never found him, and this woman deserved instant justice.

The robber was walking in my direction where I was leaning against a wall. He looked up and saw me. His eyes brightened, and I could so clearly read his thoughts; he'd found his next prey.

I continued to watch him as he approached until he stopped in front of me, pulling out a large knife.

“You gon give m'all you have or you die ” He waved the knife in front of my face.

Crosing my arms on my chest, I stared right back at him cooly. He arched his brow in surprise. “You think me joking?” He glowered menacingly.

I dipped my gloved hand into my pocket, pretending to be getting something for him, then I hit the butt of the knife. It went flying out of his hand, and before he knew it, I had it in mine.

What better way to kill a murderer than with his own weapon?

Grabbing him by the collar of his hoodie, I dragged him into the darkened alleyway, slamming his back into the wall. He gasped, but he'd barely opened his mouth when I covered it and plunged the knife into his stomach.

He stilled, before trying to make a sound. All of it were muffled by my hand. His eyes watered, manifesting the pain he was going through.

And still I didn't stop. I kept pushing the knife until I was sure the tip had pierced his back and pressed into the wall.

“This is for every person you've stabbed. Every person you've murdered.” I growled at hun, then finally let go of his knife.

I didn't have to worry about leaving my fingerprints on the handle since I was wearing gloves. Grabbing both of his hands, I wrapped them around the knife handle so that his prints were more pronounced.

Let's see the police officer who rules this as suicide.

I left him just likeke that; gasping through his painful breaths with the life seeping out of him. This town was soon going to be free of another murderer.

****

I woke up after another restless night the third time in a roll. For some reason, I couldn't get the thought of Montserrat out of my head, hadn't been able to since the last time I saw her three days ago.

I couldn't help but wonder how she was doing, whether she was in any kind of danger.

Yes, I'd warned Mateo and his mother not to even dare think of hurting her, but there was no way in hell I could trust that they would listen.