𝚮𝐢𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫 | 18+

11 || CHERRY

𝕜𝕟𝕖𝕖 𝕤𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤 – 𝕒𝕣𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕔 𝕞𝕠𝕟𝕜𝕖𝕪𝕤
CHAPTER ELEVEN | CHERRY
𓆩❤︎𓆪𓆩❤︎𓆪𓆩❤︎𓆪

It wasn't long before Storm started regretting his earlier words and not answering more of her questions. Despite the many questions she'd answered for him, he found himself having more questions for her than before. After her admission, thoughts of how much she knew about him started swarming his head. Alas, when he asked her, she simply gave him the stink eye and screamed 'Die!' as if that'd magically make him disappear.

It wasn't long before her violence turned into silent treatment either. And for some reason, her silence annoyed him more than brutality.

He hated the way her beady eyes stared at him, the promise of blood swarming in her innocent blues, clouded by the aura of light around her. Her darkness was so overwhelming, that he often found the alarm system in his brain going off despite her much smaller form.

Storm didn't care much about that, however. She'd already tried to kill him. More than once. And despite her obvious familiarity with wielding a weapon, he wasn't scared of her. Not even a bit. She was as harmless as a little mouse. If he got scared of little mice, he wouldn't be a made man, would he?

But then again, it wasn't her beady eyes or constant attempts at violence or her lack of manners that truly tipped him over the edge, no. It was her thieving ways.

"Komne," Storm ordered Koshmar to come to him, only to have his dog glare at him and scoot closer to the sleeping girl, his head resting on her chest, cuddling with her. They were cuddling.

"Koshmar," Storm warned, his grip tightening around his gun, only for his dog to huff at him and turn his gaze away from him in a stubborn attempt of disobedience.

Storm had had it with his dog and with the pretty-eyed girl. He was gonna kill one of them.

Before Storm could take a step forward, his form froze when the sweetest noise filled the room, bubbling out of her chest as the smallest of smiles stretched her lips so beautifully and hypnotically that he found his eyes locked on her once more as a pinkish glow spread on her cheeks.

He hated her. He hated her so much that he started feeling physically sick around her.

Koshmar rolled his eyes as he watched his owner dramatically gag at the sight of their cuddling before leaving the room.

Storm decided to lower his gun for once that night and that he'd kill her but another time. He did want to know just how much she did know about him no matter how uncomfortable it made him, after all.

The number ten kept echoing in his mind, constantly reminding him of how long she'd stalked him. He didn't know what to think of it yet other than the girl probably had a master's degree in the art of Storm Osipova.

It wasn't until hours later that Storm returned to her room, freshly out of the shower, his hair still slightly damp despite having dried it already. He found that she was still asleep despite having slept for nearly fifteen hours.

Frowning, Storm nudged her disgusting sweaty form with his foot, causing her to stir awake, her smile dropping as soon as she saw him.

Her nose wrinkled at the sight of him, her lips in a straight line as she stared at him with those creepy eyes of hers. "I thought I told you to die."

Maybe if he beheaded her and stuffed her like a doll, she'd annoy him less. She did look the par, after all. "I thought I told you to shut up. We can't all get what we want, it appears."