Arthur Morgan x Reader

Forty-Eight

There he was, that old fool of god, kneeling right in front of you, with his hands full of your money.

It was ridiculous how foolish he acted, so headless.

He didn't seem to think of you as a threat no more.

Or maybe he was just too good hearted to believe that you wouldn't stab him in the back.

Slowly, almost unnoticeably, you slid one more step to the side to position yourself right behind him.

He didn't seem to notice at all, his mind was too consumed by the money.

Your fingers moved.

Another rush of adrenaline chased through your body.

But this time it felt different.

The thought alone wasn't enough to make you wish to kill him. It wouldn't be the way Arthur had explained it.

It would be unnecessary violence.

You threw a glance over your shoulder.

Karl wasn't moving anymore.

Only very small breaths made his narrow chest rise and fall.

He was still alive. But only had a short amount of time left.

The window was rapidly closing.

You needed to take care of him immediately.

"Take the money and fuck off.", you said and dared to loosen your grip around the knife.

McLean didn't react to your offering. His fingers just kept counting the money while a lunatic kind of smile was on his face.

Your heart pulled together.

No one would miss this man.

He was just a poor excuse of a man of god, corrupted by money and greed.

Even if you gave him the money, he'd probably get greedy and try to get some more.

The best case scenario, he'd just follow around and leech off of you. Worst case scenario, he'd sell you out to the authorities for a few quick bucks.

It would be unwise to risk it, especially with a man as fake and uncontrollable as the priest.

He had made a deal with Karl's father and now that the mans body wasn't even cold yet, he had moved on to make some benefit himself.

A low sound escaped Karl's cracked lips.

He was suffering.

Your fingers wrapped tighter around the handle of the knife again.

"Father.", you said and tapped his shoulder.

He shook your hand off.

"Leave me, sinner!", he growled, still not wasting a single look at you. "I release you to go sin."

Your eyes jumped down to his hand.

He wasn't holding the gun anymore.

But it was unnecessary to try and get it. You were armed and he wasn't.

This was a perfect opportunity. There was no need to risk it.

Your gaze wandered back to him.

Taking a deep breath in, you grabbed his neck and forced him to raise his chin.

Confused, his fingers froze.

A soft, shivering breath escaped him.

"Someone will judge me for my actions one day.", you said and put the blade on the soft skin of his throat. "But it won't be you. Let's meet in hell again."

With pressure, you let the sharp blade sink in.

It was almost too easy, like cutting soft butter.

Only the stench of iron was something that made your nose curl.

You wouldn't have expected it to be so easy to slice someone's throat.

Maybe it was because you slowly got used to it.

Or maybe it was just the indifference that slowly started to harden your mind and stomach.

A choking sound escaped his lips. Unable to move, he let the money in his hands fall.

Slowly, the banknotes floated to the ground while big splatters of blood sprinkled them like rain.

Thick strands of red poured from the corners of his mouth as his eyes rolled back and he fell forward, face first into the dirt.

A puddle started to form around his head as he still tried to gasp and struggle for air.

The blood seeped into the bag of money.

You didn't care.

It didn't matter if the paper got stained, there was blood on it anyways. Just like on your hands.

With lowered eyes, you watched as the life poured out of the deep cut.

"Should I be ashamed of myself, father?", you asked with a small smile of mockery on your face. "Because I don't regret my sins? Because I did this not for me, but my brother?"

"What?", a small voice suddenly asked.

Struck by surprise, your head snapped to the side.

With eyes wide open and horror reflected on his face, Ginny stood a few steps away from you.

He was shaking all over.

"Y-you did this?", he asked and took a step forward to have a better look at the corpse of the priest.

But as he did so, he almost stumbled over the dead body of Karl's father.

Frightened, he jumped back and fell over his own two feet.

"Ginny.", you approached him.

His eyes fell onto the knife that you were still holding.

He whimpered.

Immediately, you dropped the weapon and raised your hands to show that there was nothing he had to worry about.

"I would never harm you.", you promised.

Shaking his head, he crawled back.

"Why did you do this?!", he asked, almost at the verge of a breakdown.

"They wanted to kill Karl. They wanted to kill you."

"You have blood all over yourself."

"I know.", you eyes your hands, so red, so unmoved by the things they had done. "It was... a sacrifice."

Tears shimmered inside his eyes.

"It was murder!"

You pulled a face.

"It was either them or us."

"Did Arthur teach you that?"

Your heart skipped a beat.

Sucking in a sharp breath, you lowered your hands and eyed your brother for a moment.

"Arthur is a good man, Ginny.", you said in a calming, sorry voice. "He taught me how to win. Without him, we wouldn't be here now."

He swallowed hard.

Slowly, you dared to approach again.

"(Y/N).", he started stuttering. "Don't touch me! Don't touch! P-please... Please go away..."

Tears ran down his cheeks.

Your heart started to ache at the sight.

It was no use to try and calm him. He was too afraid of the stare that you were in.

Only time could fix it.

Or not.

"I'm sorry.", you grabbed the bag of money and took a step aside. "Can you care for Karl? He's injured."