A Dicey Toy {King Dice x Reader}

Chapter 7

I felt weightless, I was back home in The City. The neon lights of the dry cleaners under my old apartment seemed brighter than usual. I reached into my pockets to retrieve my keys, hands still bloody from the last job.

It wasn't supposed to be difficult, taking out a rival coming into my client's territory. No strings attached, cash up front, enough to pay for rent for a few months. The vicious throbbing in my side and arms proved otherwise. That dickhead had about twelve guards, and I thought I had died then, but I woke up with wounds, and the job is done.

--

"Dammit, if you keep having blackouts like that and leaving the scene without proof of death you'll be out of business!" Ah, I missed the shrill voice crack of a man-child over the phone. Not.

"Well, someone unhappy," I said with a chuckle. "I'm sorry sir, it won't happen again." Mr. Circ's rage had been something I'd become used to. His little tantrums when things weren't precisely the outcome he had wished for. I guess having a literal circular saw for a head does that to people. This wasn't the first time I had pissed him off either, a cut-throat businessman hiding behind his father's lumber company to manufacture mass products of the illegal sort and distribute them across the world kind of personality would typically steer one away from this kind of behavior.

I saw him for what he was tho, a scared kid looking for drug-lord daddy's approval by trying to undermine the competition by getting to him first before his father ever got the chance. The kid meant well, sure enough, but at hardly 20 and asking to be called 'Mr. Circ' wasn't precisely the menacing appeal he thought it would be.

"Look,  Jeremy, I get it. Daddy bought a new jet and went to the Bahamas without you again and you're sad. But the job is done, you know it is. I'm good for it, you know that." I said with a sigh. The line went silent.

"I know, and I thought you would be smarter than that, (y/n). I truly did." his squeaking voice turned into a dark chuckle as I felt a pain in my chest, just above my other wounds.

*that little fucker shot me after I did his dirty work?!* I thought, grabbing at the gunshot wound as I slid off the couch.

"You know, I didn't want to do this. When father found out about your latest little, let's say 'meltdown', he left me no other choice. I hope that mercy finds you well in the next life." He said with a snarky attitude. With the phone clutched in my hands, and with my dying breath, I whispered, "I'm gonna find wheezy, and we're gonna come kick your little ass...bitch..."

And it all faded to black, and a familiar burn on my soul started once more. Guess it's it was about time to see those fuck-wires again.