The Dead Man

17

Sammy stepped forward, his confidence evident as he spoke of his computer prowess. "I possess exceptional skills in the realm of computers. With a name and a hint of information, I can delve into the depths of the online world, unearthing every little speck of dirt. Hacking is second nature to me, and I can discreetly examine any phone," he explained, his voice tinged with a hint of pride. Azrael, acknowledging Sammy's abilities, nodded approvingly, his eyes gleaming with a subtle mixture of intrigue and caution.
"I shall ensure that all the necessary equipment is provided for your endeavors," Azrael replied, his voice laced with a stern undertone. "However, be forewarned that if you deceive me, you shall become my personal punching bag," he added, his gaze shifting to Xander, who visibly clenched his jaw in response. The weight of Azrael's warning hung heavily in the air, leaving no room for doubt or betrayal.
Next, it was Xander's turn to offer his skills, his voice tinged with a mix of trepidation and hope. "I possess formidable fighting skills and can navigate through treacherous terrain with exceptional speed, ensuring minimal risk of crashing," he declared, his breath heavy as he awaited Azrael's response. The tension in the room seemed to intensify as Xander hoped his abilities would prove sufficient to avoid falling victim to Azrael's wrath.
Azrael's penetrating gaze shifted to Stan, who nervously stepped forward. "I have undergone extensive culinary training for four years, honing my skills as a cook," Stan revealed, his voice quivering slightly. He desperately hoped that his culinary expertise would find favor in Azrael's eyes.
Becky's turn arrived, and her gaze darted nervously towards Sarah, silently pleading for guidance. Sarah, understanding the unspoken plea, urged her to speak up. "I possess excellent cleaning skills and can provide assistance to Stan in the kitchen," Becky responded, her voice filled with anxiety, uncertain of how her modest skills would be received.
Azrael's gaze lingered on Lorenzo and Fredrick, his attention fully captivated by their business-related expertise. Lorenzo stepped forward confidently, ready to present his capabilities. "I am well-versed in handling all aspects of business, be it legal or financial. I have acquired extensive knowledge and can navigate through complex legal documents and identify loopholes in contracts," he explained, his voice projecting an air of authority. Fredrick nodded in agreement, acknowledging his own legal background. "Though not a lawyer, I possess a comprehensive understanding of law and can effectively safeguard our rights and identify potential vulnerabilities in any legal scenario," Fredrick added, his voice resonating with confidence.
Azrael nodded in approval, recognizing the value of their skills. "The roles you have assigned yourselves shall forever be your responsibilities," he declared firmly, the weight of his words settling upon the group. His gaze shifted to Sarah, his voice unwavering. "You will protect Sarah at all costs, prioritizing her safety above all else," he emphasized, his tone leaving no room for negotiation or hesitation.
"In addition to your designated duties, you shall undergo training in combat and survival skills every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday," Azrael continued, his instructions clear and unwavering. "These training sessions will be an integral part of your lives moving forward. We wil begin in an hour get ready." Azrael said dismissing the group.
Fredrick stayed behind Azrael raised his brows in annoyance.
"Fredrick hesitated, sensing Azrael's annoyance as he posed his question. "What?" Azrael sneered in response.
Fredrick mustered up the courage to inquire further, fear lacing his words. "May I ask how you determine who needs to be killed?"
"I do not sleep. When I do, I receive a list," Azrael replied bluntly. Understanding that no further explanation would be given, Fredrick left the room.
Sarah's unease was palpable as her gaze slowly lifted to the house. Its presence still sent shivers down her spine.
"Azrael?" she called out tentatively. He swiftly turned, his senses on high alert, scanning for any sign of danger.
"Yes, darling?" he responded, his attention fully focused on her.
"Can I redecorate the house? And if not, can I at least paint the exterior?" Sarah's nerves rattled as she mustered the courage to ask, fearful of his potential rejection. She didn't want to live in a place she despised every time she laid eyes on it. Now that the house belonged to him, she felt she could make such a request.
"Of course you can," Azrael said, stepping closer and gently gripping her chin. "It's your house too. Do you want to handle everything on your own?"
Their eyes locked, Sarah's gaze meeting Azrael's glowing yellow eyes. She nodded quickly. "Yes, I want to take care of it myself," she replied, affirming her desire to undertake the task.
"Alright. In the second drawer of our room, you'll find my phone. Look up whatever you need. Money is not a problem," Azrael assured her. As Azrael's finger caressed her lips, a tender smile adorned Sarah's face. In that intimate moment, her emotions overwhelmed her, and the words slipped out before she could fully comprehend them. "I love you," she whispered softly, her voice barely audible. Uncertain of the authenticity of her feelings, she was taken aback by her own admission. Wide-eyed with realization, she witnessed the shock mirrored in Azrael's expression. Her confession had caught them both off guard.
Without waiting for a response, Sarah swiftly leaped out of the chair, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and fear. She ran away, propelled by the rush of emotions and the weight of her impulsive declaration. Azrael, still in a daze, watched as she disappeared from his sight. This time, he chose not to pursue her immediately. He needed time to collect his thoughts, to process the unexpected turn of events.
Overwhelmed by her impulsive confession, Sarah collapsed onto their bed, tears streaming down her face. How could she have been so foolish? The weight of her words hung heavily in the air, threatening to change everything between them. It wasn't that she didn't genuinely feel love for Azrael, but the fear gnawed at her that he might not reciprocate those feelings. His decision not to follow her only reinforced her apprehensions.
As Sarah sat on the bed, anxiously biting her nails, her breathing grew labored, and her mind spiraled into a state of panic. Seeking solace, she grabbed his phone and left the room in search of a quiet space.
Meanwhile, Sarah ventured into an old archive she had stumbled upon. The room was dimly lit, casting eerie shadows, and the scurrying of mice echoed through the silence. Though it felt unsettling, she pressed on, driven by her determination. Sitting close to the door, her heart continued to race, a constant reminder of her heightened emotions.
She opened the phone and began her search for White House paints, her trembling fingers navigating the web. Suddenly, a low growl, deep and menacing, reverberated from the left. Sarah's eyes instinctively closed, and with trembling resolve, she slowly lifted her head.
In the darkness of the archive, the first thing she saw were his fiery red eyes. Darius, a formidable creature, emerged, his scarred snout gradually revealed as he bared his teeth. His presence sent a shiver down her spine, and she pressed herself against the wall, desperate not to provoke him.
"Please stay away, Darius," she pleaded, holding her hand up in surrender. "Azrael won't be pleased if you harm me." The truth was, Sarah wasn't entirely sure if Azrael cared enough to intervene.
Darius maintained his menacing stance, teeth still exposed, but a subtle tilt of his head hinted at a flicker of curiosity. He seemed intrigued by Sarah's words.
"I have candy!" she blurted out, grasping at any persuasion she could muster to avoid becoming his meal.