Vengeance (COMPLETED)

Part 10

My anxiety starts to build as I head over to the changing rooms with a pair of jeans and a top. I quickly change into them. I've been dragging out my time in the changing rooms specifically for this reason. I throw my hair up into a ponytail. Not only is this outfit better to fight in, but it also might serve as a disguise. I quietly sneak out from behind the curtain, my stake in hand. The door creaks as I open it, but the man guarding it is a much bigger concern. I immediately recognise him from the boat. He reaches for his weapon. I lunge forward without sparing it a second thought, shoving the stake into his stomach. I'm not sure if it's pierced his skin or not, but it doesn't matter. It hurts enough to distract him for a moment, allowing me to knock the gun out of his hand. I grab it off the floor and make a run for it, sprinting back to the main road to blend in with the crowd until I find a good place to hide. I glance behind me when I hear rumbling coming from the boutique. Atticus steps out angrily. Fuck. I need to hide. I need to hide fast.

I turn the nearest corner and dive into the first alleyway I find. It's a dead end, with a dumpster against the back wall. Perfect. No one will be coming here. The dumpster is filled with trash bags, but the smell isn't bad enough to deter me. I jump inside. This is good. They can't see me here. They won't find me until they decide to do a more thorough search, and hopefully, by then, I'll be gone. I let out a sigh of relief, trying to calm the thumping in my chest. My body starts to relax, laying flat against the garbage. Now, I just wait. And wait. And wait.

I keep myself busy by counting as high as I can, over and over again. I stare up at the sky, watching the clouds move with the wind and the daylight start to fade. A helicopter flies over a few times, but I managed to hide under the bags without getting caught. It isn't until the sun has set that I hear a noise that spikes my anxiety — a truck reversing into the alleyway. I sneak a peek over the edge of the dumpster. A man in a jumpsuit climbs out of a garbage truck, heading my way. The second his eyes land on me, he starts to yell, swearing at me in Greek. I try to apologise to him as I jump out of the dumpster, but the man suddenly goes limb, falling to the ground with blood staining his shirt. He's been shot. Before I even get a chance to find the culprit, two men appear from behind the truck, hurling towards me at full speed. They grab a hold of me. I wrestle against them, slamming my body into theirs in an attempt to get free.

"Quit fucking moving!" One of them orders. My left-hand slips free, giving me the chance to knock him right in the face.

"Don't fucking touch me!" I kick him in the shins. The other man tries to bring my hands behind my back to restrict my movements, but instead, I shove him backwards, causing him to slam into the dumpster.

"You stupid fucking bitch!" the first guy lunges at me, his fist hitting me square in the face. The force is more than enough to make me see stars. Another blow comes, and then another in my stomach. I buckle over in pain. They completely overpower me, shoving me down to the floor only to kick me over and over again. I cry out for them to stop but it's no use. Their hits continue. I can't even tell where the pain starts or where it ends, everything just hurts, each blow more painful than the next. There's no way out for me. I lay still, protecting my head as best I can while they beat on me.

"Please..." I barely hear the word come from my lips.

"Fuck you, you fucking slut!" one of them sneers. "You deserve whatever he gives you!"

"Don't stop. Knock her unconscious," the other says. "Vassilis wants her alive. He never said anything about harming her."

No, no. This can't be happening.

"Fuck yeah, bitch, you hear that?" The first guy leans over me. He gives me another hard kick in the stomach. The world around me starts to fade as they carry on. I struggle to cling to consciousness. But then... the man kicks me on the back, right where I've stored the gun I stole off the guard at the boutique. I kept it under my shirt, in the waistband of my jeans. How could I have forgotten? That's my way out. They killed the garbage man, so they must have a gun, too. I don't doubt that they'd use it, I just need to make sure I come out on top. I have to at least try. I muster up everything I have left in me and grab the gun out of my waistband, not bothering to aim as I shoot at the men. The noise makes my ears ring, a warm liquid spraying over my face. I shoot over and over again until I can't any more. The world goes silent. Something heavy hits my stomach. I glance down at it, only to see the body of a man bleeding out onto my clothes. The other man collapses beside me. Dead eyes stare back at me.

Holy shit. I did it. I killed them. Holy fuck. Fuck. Bile rises in my throat. I lean to the side, emptying this morning's breakfast onto the pavement. Atticus was right. I can't get out of here alive. I should've stayed with them. I should've trusted them. I was stupid — naïve to think I could get out of this on my own. Atticus was right.

My body trembles as I move out from under the corpse on top of me, too scared to touch it. I slowly climb up to my feet. Three bodies lay dead in the alleyway. Blood surrounds them. I glance down at myself, only to see myself covered in blood. It's soaked through my dress and has dripped down over my legs. My hands are bright red. My nausea returns, my legs shaking as I try to walk away. I need to get out of here. I need to get back to him.

I hold myself up by the wall as I turn out of the alleyway. Red and blue sirens catch my attention. Police officers usher groups of patrons away in a panic, clearly having heard the gunshots. The only people heading in my direction are two men in suits. I instantly recognise them from the island. I make my way over to them, dragging my feet all bloody and bruised like a zombie. The men surround me and speak into their earpieces. The only word I make out is Atticus, and it's only a matter of time before he appears in my line of vision, emerging from the crowd of civilians without protest. I take a few more steps forward, desperate to reach him and the safety he's offered me. He calls out my name. As soon as he reaches me, I collapse into him, unable to keep myself upright any longer.

"Hey, hey, you're okay, you're okay," he assures me, holding me up by my waist.

"I killed them," I mumble. "I killed them."

"It's okay. You're safe now."

"I shouldn't have run. You were right. I should've trusted you."

"You're okay. You're safe. You did the right thing. You're safe," he calls out something in Greek, what I can only assume is an order to clean up the mess I made.

"I'm so sorry," I cry. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright. I've got you now, and I'm going to get you out of here, okay? Let's get you back home."