𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ✔️

♡ Chapter 6 ♡

July 6th.

~ Nic POV ~

Celeste Dobrev makes me wanna rip my fucking hair out.

Never in my life has a woman ever irritated me this much. Or a man. And it's like she doesn't even try, either. With her long nails, shiny lips, and loud laugh, it's like the images get burned into your fucking brain. 

I throw my cigarette onto the ground and rub it in with the heel of my boot. I never really smoked - not unless I'm stressed out. But Celeste Dobrev has me stressed the fuck out. 

Entering the building, I had my eyes out for one person. Murphy.

I hate helping Hades. But if it means I get to kill him on the 31st, then I'll do these bullshit tasks for him with a fucking smile. The second I see Murphy sitting and smoking a cigar on the sofa, I start heading over to him. 

He was sitting comfortably. Legs out on the table in front of him, smoking the cigar like a king. But the second he saw me, he removed his legs from the table and sat upright. 

He cleared his throat as I sat across from him. He held the cigar out, "Uh, you want this?"

"Fuck no," I say without missing a beat.

I put my elbows on my knees, and lean forward in my chair. I meet his eyes as I say firmly but quietly, "I want the money."

He glances around the room nervously, making sure nobody heard. He set his cigar down and leaned forward, too.

Leaning behind the seat, he grabs a duffle bag filled with money. He drops it on the table in front of me, and I let go of the gun that's in my pocket. 

I grab the bag, and go to leave, when I hear a voice.

"Hey, Murphy!" a voice calls from beside me.

My head turns, and my jaw clenches. It's Celeste's date from the other day.

I rub my jawline and ignore him as he sits down with us. I didn't plan on uttering a word, but out of the corner of my eye, I could see him staring at me. He smiles and points, "You. I saw you the other day."

I fight back an eye roll and look at him, "Okay."

"You were talking to Celeste," he continued, despite the obvious disinterest in my voice.

"Mhm."

He laughed dryly to himself while shaking his head. He crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat, "You'd think a girl that pretty would have a higher value."

My jaw nearly ticked. 

"The fuck does that mean?" I questioned. 

The cocky motherfucker meets my eyes. He says like it's obvious, "She's a whore. Fucks anything that moves."

"Watch your mouth," I spit at him.

His head tilts, almost as if in curiosity. He smirks, "You don't like her, do you?"

"Hate her fucking guts. But have some respect," I lean forward, my body language aggressive. 

He scoffed, "Why should I respect somebody that doesn't even respect themselv-"

Without blinking, I break his fucking nose. I hear the bone break after my fist collides with it, and blood gushes from his nose. He curses and holds his bleeding nose with glossy eyes, "What the fuck!"

I'm known for having a temper. For killing in situations where it wasn't necessary. I've built this reputation so that people are scared of me. And it fucking works. People look at me like I'm soulless, a demon, a monster.