"You think he'll let you?"
"You think he can stop me?"
⎻⎻⎻⎻⎻⎻⎻⎻⎻⎻
Margeux can't decide whether she's a sociopath, or a psychopath. Continuous events tend to sway her either way. Out of all the people she could kill on her eighteenth birthday, she en...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
••●••
I GET A weird sense of Deja Vu when a paper bag is removed from my head. I'm not surprised to find myself in the familiar office of Director Hayes either, who often kidnaps me and puts me in here. If I had a nickel for every time this happened? I'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot, but it's weird it happened twice.
"Margeux." Hayes greets.
"Baby." I return.
His jaw twitches in agitation, "I'd drop the tone. We are going to kill you."
Usually I'd bite back. But the one person who I think could actually kill me, is him. Him with all his power and his several men in black suits surrounding this room. Him and the loyalty of the occupants in this building minus Team X. Him without Dexter Brown coming to take it all away - fuck where is that motherfucker? He should be here, does he not understand one of his subordinates is trying to take over his job?
"How?" I ask.
"In front of Reign." He tells me, "You're a weakness of his. It's best I get rid of you so I can shape him back into who he was before."
"And you think he won't kill you after that because...?" I tilt my head, remaining as calm as ever. My heart is about to fall out of my chest though.
"I'm his father." He stiffens slightly, almost like he didn't really think about that.
"And he's your son." I return, "Or...he was."
Oops. That definitely hit a spot.
"I saved that kid." Hayes growls, "I saved him from that family - I could have just put him in the foster system, an orphanage maybe - but I took him. His whole life is owed to me."
And...well, usually, I don't get baited. Or angry. I get cocky and scary and sort of manic. Not really whatever I'm feeling right now. I don't know how or when but it just all comes out. Oh so very quickly.
"His whole life is owed to you?" I scoff, a cruel laugh escaping my lungs loudly, "His whole life has been in debt to you. Killing people, doing your dirty work, trusting you, doing your job - fucking all of it, you wouldn't have held onto this job for so long if it wasn't for him. You don't fucking deserve him, you don't-"
"Don't say another word." Hayes warns, cheeks flushed like I'm really getting to him.
"Word." I bite.
The next thing I know, one of his security guards - one of the whatever colours, I've completely forgotten now - has reached out and grabbed my hand. He's spread it out flat on Hayes' desk with force, and in seconds, with zero warning, slams a pencil through it.
That may be karma for what I did that that himbo psychologist.
I don't have much more time for snarky thoughts because fuck. Oh my fucking god, ow. Shit. I hiss with pain, hand spasming at the object left standing tall and piercing it. He just fucking stabbed me with a pencil. A sharpened pencil. Perfectly through my hand and avoiding bone.
