#𝟓 ▪ 𝐆𝐮𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬.
❝Do you know what my first rule is?❞ I purred, softly.
His eyes became dark and dangerous. My favourite combination. ❝What?❞
I smiled.
❝Don't fall for pretty things.❞
▪︎
Marielle Kolsov has spent most of her life h...
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chapter five
{Marielle}
SOMEONE HAD BEEN IN MY HOME, and I had spent the rest of the week tracking down the culprit. Fortunately for me, they left a few clues. Starting with the terrace door being left open. That meant they had access in and out of the building which meant they knew whoever was on the floor below me, seeing as there was no news of forced entry. Another clue was the slight disruption to my bookshelf and, from the dust patterns, I assumed that they were searching for something since they only touched specific books.
My fucking cookbooks.
And then there was that damn agent. Jesus, as if my week couldn't get any worse.
"Everything okay? You keep huffing and puffing," Brooke commented, raising her brow at me.
"Men are infuriating. You tell them one thing and then they do the exact opposite like get a fucking clue," I blurted out in a furious rant.
She blinked at me like I was a crazy person, and honestly, I felt like one. "Who are we killing?"
Though she spoke hypothetically, I knew I actually would kill someone. The irony softened the anger, my lips tugging as I rolled my eyes. "No one in particular."
"Come on," she begged, childishly. "I know that murderous look in your eye all too familiar."
"That's worrying," I reached for my coffee, waiting for Brooke to grab hers before we left.
"Marielle, we've been friends for years now. I know you better than you know yourself," she claimed, matter-of-factly. I frowned as she thanked the barista, not sure whether that was a good or bad thing. "Despite your best efforts, I know you, Marielle Kolsov."
Then, she looked up at me, her eyes as dark as her curls.
"Darkness and all."
Chills ran up my spine.
"That's not necessarily a good thing, Brooke," I responded as we crossed the street, stepping into Central Park.
The trees were an array of green, red and orange, and the sun made the colours stand out more vibrantly. The sky was cloudlessly blue and at high noon, the park was packed with people, children running about, couples having picnic dates; everything seemed so mundane. As we walked beneath the trees, sipping on our coffees, I wondered whether normal would be something I'd ever experience. I wondered whether normal was something I wanted to experience.
"Tell me what's going on," Brooke insisted, unbothered by my curt tone.
I debated for a long moment before sighing. "Someone broke into my house."
She gasped, stopping. "Did you call the police?" I gave her a deadpan look and she smiled, sheepishly. "Right, you don't like the police."
I carefully chose my next words as we continued to walk, feeling the warm breeze brush against my skin. "It's not that I don't like them. It's that I can't trust them and honestly I wouldn't put it past them to have been the person who broke into my home."
