Marry or Kill

06

E L I A S

The cellars beneath the house exude an air of neglect. My gaze sweeps over the grimy surfaces, where cobwebs dangle like decorations and dust clings to every crevice like a shroud. Soon, a sickly-sweet odour of blood enters the room.

Before me, my guards are dead in a disarray, their bodies sprawled across the floor in a tangled heap. I watch the struggle of the other guards and the sheen of sweat building on their forehead as they drop the third body in front of me with a loud, dead thump.

I observe the aftermath with a detached air, my eyes flicking upwards to the ceiling at the sorry sight. It's almost laughable, their attempt they made to defy me, to challenge my authority.

But there is no laughter, only silence. Noah looks pale, his expression drawn and haunted, while the other guards avoid my gaze, their heads bowed.

With a resigned sigh, I reach down and retrieve the test tube of poison strapped to one of their belts.

"What a pitiful sight," I remark dryly. "Collect their wretched remains and see to it that they are delivered to their families."

They hardly deserve to see their families after betraying me, but I show a small act of mercy. I don't show the disgust on my face when my guards lift the bodies again, the strain evident on their fatigued faces, and exit the room.

I delicately twirl the potent poison between my nimble fingers, and note there is less of it in the tube, but still enough for reuse if it proves to be hardly resilient on Mina.

Noah scarcely spared a glance at the pallid, lifeless faces of the bodies, the white tone on his face evident of a struggle to retain his morning breakfast. "The bullet. Who killed them?" he asks the examiner, clad in an all-white ensemble, the bullet cradled in a baggie.

To be honest, I couldn't care less who killed them because I would have done it myself. It was moreover the question whether Mina had done it or not. I don't know her too well or what she is capable of.

The examiner swallows hard, suppressing the bile in her throat with a strained gulp. "The bullet is unidentifiable. There's no name attached to it or place."

Noah's dishevelled appearance betrays the tiredness he's feeling, his brown hair tousled as if he's just emerged from a restless slumber. I watch him closely, noting the tension in his posture and the furrow of his brow.

The examiner's silence speaks volumes, her indifferent gaze belying the tightness in her breath. If it weren't for her fear, I'd think she knows more than she's letting on, but she remains tight-lipped, unwilling or unable to divulge any further information.

With a dismissive wave, I signal her departure, the sound of her hurried footsteps fading as she scuttles out of the room. The door closes behind her.

Turning my attention back to Noah, I can't help but feel a surge of impatience. "Knowing who fired the bullet is inconsequential," I remark. "What matters is whether Mina did it or not."

If it turns out to be Mina, she's got the natural talent for staying hidden. A savvy, clever girl who knows how to play the game set out for her. However, I feel my lips involuntarily curve in distaste at the potential nuisance she will cause.

"If it was Mina, you two would make quite the couple," Noah remarks with a grin tugging in the corners of his lips.

Noah's snort at my expense earns him a sharp glance, but I hold my tongue, considering his words carefully. His audible sigh and the drop of his gaze to the pool of crimson on the floor betrays his wariness.