tw/cw: mentions of murder, depictions of violence, blood, guns, language, trauma mentions (abandonment, etc.), drinking, arguments, mentions of gambling, and fighting
a/n: sorry i haven't been active for a good month, mental issues mixed with the worst writer's block i've had in a while does that! i made it extra long for you guys, and hopefully, from here on out, uploads will be more consistent! this one is around 5,200 words, so enjoy!!
The man, now with a rather painful bullet burrowed in his chest cavity, was attempting to crawl away from his attacker on the backs of his palms. His breathing was heavy and short, his vision dotted and blurry. His body was trembling, but from fear or pain, he didn't know. His shirt was sticky with blood, and he thought that it would be rather unfortunate if his wife would find him like this.
The sharp clack of his attacker's heels broke him out of his thoughts. She came into his view, her vibrant blood-red hair and perfectly styled curls the only thing he could make out.
"Where is he?!" She shouts at him, anger clear in her tone.
The man stays silent, too petrified to even speak. His back brushes against the stone wall and he knows there is no escape, but still, he tries. He crawls to the left, towards the only door, slowly, hoping his attacker wouldn't catch sight of him.
Bang.
He jumps back in fear, ignoring the protest of his wound. He watches as the bullet hits the wall and drops to the ground. He feels her presence behind him but doesn't dare turn. If this was where he dies, he would rather not face the barrel of a gun.
"Look at me," She whispers, her voice a deadly hiss.
Slowly, he turns. Not out of bravery, but out of cowardice. He meets her eyes — a deep charcoal color — as she presses the warm metal of the gun against his temple.
"I am Raelyn Pedrotti, and I'm going to kill Antonello Martínez. It'll be a shame if I have to kill you too," She says softly, her voice a sweet poison. "All you have to do is give up his location."
He only whimpers in response, acutely aware of her finger resting on the trigger. "I don't, I don't know who yo–you're talking about," He manages to get out, his eyes avoiding hers.
Raelyn rolls her eyes. "You could at least try to be a good liar. Now I'll have to blow your brains out. Not my favorite pastime."
His eyes widen at her words and he begins stuttering out pleas and worthless bargains and promises.
"I lied," She says, smiling. He looks up at her, hopeful. "It happens to be one of my favorite pastimes."
He's barely able to register her words before he hears the click of the trigger.
***
BREAKING NEWS
Heir to Lynx Industries Found Dead in Private Manor with the Number '9' Carved in his Chest
Links to previous murders found, police calling killer an "elusive [...] enigma."
Local law enforcement encourages anyone with information to call +1 213-962-6842
Anastasia Stark's brown eyes widen as she reads the eye-catching news article while sipping her fourth cup of coffee. This is the ninth murder covered in April! Naturally, Anastaisa deduces that the nine carved in the chest is simply nothing more than a body count, because the killer had left numbers near or on their victims before. However, the murders have become more and more daring, with the victims ranging from greasy bartenders to Hollywood royalty, and now, apparently, billionaire tech giants.
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