Marry or Kill

08

M I N A

Sol's cold gaze lingers on mine, an unspoken intensity between us. With measured pain, she extends the rifle towards me. As I accept the weapon, our hands briefly touch—a spark of warmth and an exchange of silent understanding.

In that fleeting connection, her eyes convey a promise. "I promise I will see you soon," she murmurs, her voice carried away by the wind.

The breeze tousles my hair and untucks the strands from the back of my ears. A subtle melancholy shadows her piercing blue eyes.

"All the bullets you need are in there. Don't miss," she continues, her gaze dropping to the slick blackness of the gun barrel.

My fingers brush against her shoulder as I reach out, a last tactile touch before she pivots away down the stairs. "I won't let Elias stop me from contacting you—" I begin, the scent of the city's food mixing with the adrenaline pumping in my blood.

"I know," she gently reassures, her voice carrying a weight that hints at shared burdens. Sol spares me a tired look, the lines of exhaustion etched on her face, before reluctantly breaking eye contact. Her gaze, now tinged with dark intensity, shifts towards the looming building ahead, where unseen dangers await. "They're here."

As I turn to face the threat, a gust of wind slams into my eyes, momentarily blurring my vision. The pain in my thigh surges, a sharp reminder of the physical toll exacted by Elias's men. I hiss out loud, bearing a crouch to keep myself inside the beckoning shadows and extend my rifle to the edge.

The last echo that registers in my ears is the muffled crunch of snow beneath Sol's retreating footsteps, fading away into the hushed stillness.

As she vanishes from sight, dusk descends, painting the sky with a palette of muted hues.

A stretch of sunset, a symphony of warm oranges and purples, unfurls across the darkening canvas above.

My palms, already slick with cold sweat, bear witness to the tension that coils within. The frigid air bites at my skin, a stark contrast to the rising unease that settles in the pit of my stomach.

I shift my gaze, and there, in the lengthening shadows, Elias moves with deliberate purpose.

When he walks inside the building, the world seems to hold its breath. His men stand outside the doors, strapped to the brim with weapons and guns.

I loosen my hold on the rifle, feeling the tension of my thigh spread to the rest of my body.

The rhythmic pound of my own breath reverberates in my ears, drowning out the subtle whispers of the wind that playfully nips at the exposed skin of my fingers.

In the silence, I am left alone with the haunting echoes of possibilities, with the howling of the wind subtly in my ears.

Feeling the jitters in my own nerves, I catch myself absentmindedly chewing on my bottom lip as I wait, letting time tick.

A swarm of guards gathers around the building, their purposeful strides making the pit in my stomach widen.

With a tense grip on the ledge, I lean over, my hair spilling onto my shoulders. The unexpected touch of my own hair against the nape of my neck startles me for a moment.

My attention shifts to the heart of the building, where the window should offer a view of Elias finalizing the ominous deal.

Yet, to my growing dismay, the window remains stubbornly closed, withholding the clarity of what's going on.

Once again, I find myself chewing on my lip, a nervous habit seeking comfort.

Something feels off.

I should be able to witness Elias signing that damn deal, but all the windows are shadowed in darkness. With anticipation, I whirl my head around me to check for any attackers hiding in the shadows, but there's nothing.