DELONIX [COMPLETED]

Chapter 62

I'm gonna kill that mother fucker.

My mind echoed with that single thought as the anger consumed me. Each step I took back to my office exuded an intimidating aura, causing students to either cower away or shoot frightened glances in my direction. But at that moment, I couldn't have cared less about their reactions.

With a surge of fury, I flung open the door to my office, the sheer force of it making it seem as though a bomb had detonated within the school. My eyes scanned the room, searching for a release from the rage that coursed through my veins. They landed on a portrait hanging on the wall-the portrait of myself. Only I knew the hidden secret behind it, a concealed button that would unveil my arsenal. It was my private sanctuary, a place where my dark intentions could be satisfied without anyone ever discovering the truth.

Without hesitation, I approached the portrait, my hand trembling with anticipation. Pressing the hidden button, a mechanism was set into motion. The portrait flipped, revealing a hidden compartment that housed an array of deadly weapons. As I gazed upon the assortment before me, I contemplated which one would be most effective in my quest for revenge. The options tantalized my vengeful desires, each weapon promising a different form of brutal retribution.

My trusted Katana. Won't provide a deeper cut.

My gleaming stainless steel Dagger. Maybe

My compact crowbar. You have to be joking.

A surge of annoyance coursed through me as I surveyed the feeble assortment of weapons behind the flipped portrait. Dissatisfied, I swiftly restored the portrait to its original position, concealing the disappointing array. Determined to find a more suitable arsenal, I strode purposefully towards the bookshelves nestled beside the weathered lamp.

Guided by a sliver of hope, my fingers grazed the spines of the books, seeking the telltale sign of an elusive latch. The shelves, worn with age, emitted a faint groan of resistance as I applied pressure. With a shuddering creak, they yielded, parting to unveil another storage of weapons which filled my satisfaction.

Guns.

I meticulously sifted through my collection of the firearms, carefully choosing the ones that could be seamlessly concealed within the folds of my clothing. The weight of bullets draped across my shoulders, serving as a constant reminder of the deadly force I carried. With a firm grasp, I selected the longest and most formidable gun, its sleek contours fitting snugly into the grip of my right hand. Aware that I couldn't afford to head out of the office resembling a battle-hardened soldier, I had painstakingly installed a secret door, discreetly leading to the outside where my car awaited.

An aura of secrecy enveloped me as I swung open the concealed door in my office, revealing a hidden passageway that descended into the depths. Urgency propelled me forward, each step echoing with purpose as I descended the concealed staircase. Time was of the essence, and the absence of any scheduled meetings provided a welcome advantage. If anyone sought my presence, they would find only an empty chair, a silent testimony to my absence.