TOO ICY

💎 THIRTY TWO / WHAT IS WANTED VS WHAT IS NEEDED

The Dragon Estate  was quiet. An eerie silence loomed over the mansion as the clock struck 1am. Guards paced near the entrance, keeping watch of the massive property that was in the dynasty for over a hundred years. Power had been transferred to the rightful owners when the time came, and none had ever been stripped from the title by force.

That night, things would change.
Malachi wanted to kill Haru himself, with his bare hands. Anger boiled in his blood as he scoped out the territory from a building's roof across from the estate. He watched as his soldiers assumed position, surrounding the perimeter and ensuring no one could make it out and ultimately, he could make it in.

As he sat stewing, Malachi tried his best to stay calm. He was antsy - eager to kill. Eager to avenge his baby sister's life. To reclaim a legacy meant for his blood. There was no secret that when his father, Draco, was the head of the dragon, it was the most prolific term that the dynasty had ever seen. Malachi was only a young boy at the time, but he could still see the looks of admiration that his father warranted in many spaces.

The people loved his generosity, his respect, and his subtle charm. Even those who knew him as infamous couldn't deny his lure.

Malachi cursed the day his father was taken from him. Had he still been alive, none of this would've taken place. Draco would still be in power, Malachi would be his heir and his right-hand, and all the grunts, like Haru, would stay in their place.

There was no point in wishing and dreaming. There was a job to get done. Malachi knew it was risky, but felt the protection of God. Ironic, really. He requested protection while sinning, but he knew that God knew his heart - that what he had to do was sometimes different than what he wanted to do. Tonight wasn't one of those times, though. Malachi wanted and needed to kill Haru. It would bring him great comfort, relief and even peace; like banishing a demon from the living world.

He took inventory of himself. He wasn't sporting anything special, just a knife, garrott and glock. It was all he needed to get the job done, he was just that good. As Draco used to say, his boy was an expert at exterminating pests. Malachi smirked at his father's voice in his head. With a single signal, his fist perched into the night sky, while the moon served as his much needed spotlight, Malachi got the party started. His lead, Seranto, nodded in obedience.

Malachi didn't leave the roof just yet. He actually enjoyed the show from above. His men, dressed in black to blend into the umberness of night, didn't waste any time wiping out the security like ants at a picnic. Silenced weapons with accuracy pierced their foreheads, making their knees buckle and shit run down their legs. Knecks cracked like crab legs by those who loved to touch their victims. Malachi didn't have a preference, as long as they got the job done.

In the midst of it, he looked over to the roof of the building a few feet away from the one he occupied. There, Jhonny stood, watching the entertainment as well with his hands folded in front of him. So far, the American man looked calm and composed. That was a good sign. Malachi still wasn't too sure about him, but he didn't have the luxury of time to vet him. If he made one wrong move, Malachi would kill him on the spot. No questions asked.

He checked a few more spots with a slow swivel of his head. His snipers were in place. The grounds were clear. It was go-time. With a quick gesture, he signaled for Jhonny to meet him below.

They followed a discreet path into the estate after joining by the road. The soldiers had already begun raiding the place like roaches, scattering everywhere. Neither Malachi or Jhonny spoke. There was no need. Both were there to get a job done, with the determination of two bulls.
The estate was practically the size of the white house. Thankfully, Malachi had been inside enough to know the entire layout; most importantly, where the master bed was located. He knew most of the hiding spots, not all, but he could smell fear like Jeepers Creepers.