𝑴𝑬𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑺𝑨 𝑹𝑰𝑨𝑯𝑵𝑶 - was untouchable.
A self-made success, her grounds rebuilt and scars healed by herself, she was every man's dream. Her life was mapped out, every step calculated-until he happened.
The world knew him as a champion, one...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
CHĄPTER TWELVE ♡♡
His gun is heavy.
It's scary.
I snap away from it as my gaze seeks for something else to occupy my mind with.
Anything just to distract myself from the gunshots going off outside my locked door.
Twenty four.
Yet my brain won't stop counting them.
My sucked lip between my teeth is another source of an attention shifter. At least that's what I tell myself since the pain that comes from biting it doesn't do much other than making it bleed.
It actually does do one more thing: wandering my mind back to Milano. It's like his intoxicating taste got injected into my blood.
It's wrong. I shouldn't have kissed him.
I did it just because his sweet talking did this much to my brain and I acted on impulse.
The small peck I gave him earlier before he left was nothing but an innocent way of saying goodbye.
That's just what he'll be left with.
My mistake is regrettable but understandable.
That's it if he returns. Out of twenty seven gunshots what is the possibility of at least one landing on him?
I huff under my breath and decide to blame it on maths never being my thing.
Then again the question won't leave my mind. As much as I despise him if he is to get shot right now, I'll be left with no one.
Everyone I had is gone. From the look of it none of my „friends" have tried searching for me as the reposts for lost people on tv are for a fact not about me. My boyfriend... well. He turned out to be none of the things I thought he was. My family— long time gone.
Me— left alone.
With my kidnapper. Who's currently in a clash outside my door.
What would I do if I lose him: the only person left that cares about me. Everyone in this house would mistreat me until eventually they realise that they can't neither let me go or keep me since I'm of no use so they end up killing me.
Gosh, what am I doing hiding in here like a bitch when he's out there and might get hurt.
I fidget with the gun in my hands trying to figure out how to hold it properly. I've got this, I shot out a bullet a few hours ago after all.
But still my anxiety escalates with every following through of what I'm thinking of doing.
I stand up on my legs as they begin trembling and my gaze snaps down at my bare legs and feet. Being barefoot shouldn't be a bad thing, right?
