𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 | 18+

RRSB | 11

-IVΛПΛ-

Ivana continued to twirl a rose between her fingers, having been staring at it for quite some time now. She had found it on her pillow the night before. The rose had fragrant petals and sharp, pointed thorns protruding from its stem. The petals ranged in color from vibrant reds to soft pinks and whites, while the thorns were typically small and green, scattered along the length of the stem. She had never seen a rose like it, it was truly beautiful. But who had left it for her? And what message were they trying to convey?

The mysterious gift had sparked a whirlwind of emotions within her, ranging from curiosity to apprehension. Who could have left such a delicate yet enigmatic token on her pillow? The mere thought sent shivers down her spine.

Out of nowhere, her bedroom door swung open violently, causing her to startle and leap out of bed. August burst into the room, his footsteps heavy and resounding against the floorboards. He strode towards her with a palpable fury that seemed to radiate off him in waves. As he approached, his features came into focus, revealing a face twisted with anger. His eyebrows knit together in a furrowed line, creating a deep shadow over his intense, blazing eyes. The veins on his neck bulged as he gritted his teeth, his jaw set in a tense, rigid manner. Clearly, something had triggered a storm of emotions within him, and he was struggling to keep his composure.

As he closed in on her, he slammed her firmly against the wall, eliciting a sharp gasp from her lips as pain shot through her body. Trapped between his strong arms and the unforgiving walls of the bedroom, she felt a sense of claustrophobia creeping over her. Meeting his intense gaze, her heart pounded erratically, a palpable tension filling the air as his simmering anger radiated off him.

"You drugged me," He spat out.

"Yes I did," she responded breathlessly.

"Why?," His voice was a low growl, barely restrained beneath the surface of his seething anger. The word hung in the air like a challenge, demanding an explanation that she knew would be impossible to provide.

"I wanted to kill you." 

"So why didn't you?" With a nonchalant  gaze, she extended her arm towards him and slowly traced the contours of his cheek with her fingers. The softness of her touch would have sent a shiver down his spine, if it wasn't for his anger.

Her lips curled into a sardonic grin, a hint of mischief dancing in her eyes. "Because, August dear, where's the fun in a quick demise? I much prefer to savor the anticipation of your downfall."

August's jaw tightened, his expression a mix of disbelief and indignation, as he struggled to contain the surge of rage coursing through him. "You're sick," he hissed through gritted teeth, his voice dripping with venom.

She chuckled, the sound slicing through the tension like a knife, sending a thrill down his spine. "And yet, here you are," she taunted, her voice dripping with allure, "still drawn to me like a moth to flame." Leaning in closer, she dared him with her gaze, her lips tantalizingly close to his.

August recoiled, the intensity of her words hitting him like a physical blow. Despite the danger, there was an undeniable allure to Ivana's presence, a magnetic pull that he couldn't seem to resist, no matter how hard he tried. It was as if she held some dark, inexplicable power over him, weaving a web of intrigue and danger that ensnared his every thought.

With a steely resolve, he took a step back, putting some distance between them. His mind raced, trying to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions swirling within him. Anger, betrayal, desire—all warring for dominance within his heart.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Ivana," he warned, his voice laced with anger. "If you think I'll stand idly by while you plot against me, you're gravely mistaken."

Ivana's laughter rang out, a melodious sound that sent chills down his spine. "Oh, August, dear August," she purred, her voice dripping with honeyed malice. "You underestimate me, But then again, that's what makes this so much fun, isn't it?"

Her words cut through him like a knife, leaving him reeling. How had he let himself become entangled in her twisted game of deceit and manipulation? And more importantly, how could he extricate himself from her clutches before it was too late?

But even as he grappled with these questions, a part of him couldn't deny the undeniable pull she exerted over him, drawing him ever closer to the edge of the abyss. With a heavy sigh, he knew that no matter how hard he tried, he would never be able to escape the allure of Ivana's dark embrace.

"Do you know why I didn't take the knife from you?" August's voice was calm now, the storm of anger slowly dissipating, replaced by a casual nonchalance that caught Ivana off guard.

"I was in the military before I started working for the government. When I finished my term, the government didn't exactly give me a choice. They took me and offered me a job," he said, his gaze steady on Ivana's, holding her attention captive. "But when the government offers you a job like that, they're not really asking."

His tone grew somber as he continued, the memories weighing heavy in his words. "When I refused to work for them, they didn't just let me walk away. They kept me in a black hole, with barely enough space to stretch my arm." He paused, the silence thick with the weight of his past.

"And then they'd take me out," August's voice hardened with the memory, his jaw set. "They'd torture me, break me down until I agreed to work for them. But they needed more than compliance. They needed me willing. So they trained me, molded me into a killer."

The shadows of his past loomed in his eyes as he spoke, a darkness that threatened to consume him once more. But in the dim light of the present, there was a flicker of defiance, a resolve that burned bright against the backdrop of his haunted past.

"I didn't take the knife because I couldn't do it," August confessed, his voice carrying a weight of self-awareness and remorse. "I didn't take it because I'm an addict, Ivana." He paused, the admission hanging heavy in the air between them. "I'm addicted to killing. It makes my blood rush and fills me with an ecstasy that..." His words trailed off, lost in the depths of his own turmoil.

"It's like a drug," he continued after a moment, his voice barely above a whisper now, as if afraid to acknowledge the truth aloud. "The thrill of the hunt, the adrenaline coursing through my veins... It's intoxicating, Ivana."

August's gaze hardened as he locked eyes with Ivana, a chilling resolve settling over him like a shroud of darkness. "You think you're a badass, don't you?" he muttered, his voice low and dangerous. "But let me make one thing clear, Ivana. If you ever try something like this again..." His words trailed off, a sinister glint flickering in his eyes.

"I won't just kill you," he continued, his tone dripping with icy menace. "I'll enjoy it. I'll relish every moment of it, savoring the fear in your eyes, the desperation in your screams." His voice grew colder, his words cutting through the silence like a knife. "Because make no mistake, Ivana. I'm not just a killer. I'm a predator. And you... You're just prey."

The air seemed to grow heavier with the weight of his words, the darkness that lurked within him casting a long shadow over the room. The air crackled with electricity, a silent battle of wills raging between them. In that charged moment, he made his decision.

Without a word, he broke away from her intoxicating allure and briskly left the room, leaving behind a trail of unspoken desires and the lingering scent of defiance.

Ivana glanced at her hand that had been clenhing the stem of the rose, the thronshad dug into her palm and it seeped blood.

Ivana glanced down at her hand, which had been tightly clutching the stem of the rose. The thorns had pierced her skin, causing blood to seep from her palm