𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐋𝐘 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 || 𝐉𝐉𝐊

chapter 48

Hello, and welcome back. If you remember the storyline then let me tell you that you have a sharp memory and I am envious.

And if you don't remember the storyline, then please keep that thought to yourself. You can either re-read or just not read.

Please don't remind me that you have forgotten it because I had to re-read it again too because of too many requests for continuation.

Yeah, I accept my mistake as an author on this topic but I had to take a long break due to my university and I had informed about it multiple times on my instagram account but I guess many still weren't informed but anyways I'm sorry and thank you for patience.

Also, will appreciate if you vote and leave a comment because anyways I've set a target for the next chapter.

Happy reading~

...

Was I scared…?

The question just hung there in the air between us like a ghost he’d summoned with two words. I couldn’t look at him. 

My eyes dropped to the mattress beneath us, to my own trembling hands, to anywhere but his face. 

The silence was a physical thing, thick and suffocating, and my answer was a stone lodged in my throat.

Yes. The answer was a screaming, bleeding, obvious yes.

But not for the reasons he thought. Not because of the monsters in the dark, the ones with guns and cruel intentions. 

They were just two men…who were doing what they were instructed..what they were paid for.

No…I wasn't sympathizing with them not at all, not after all the things they…tried to…

My throat tightened. I couldn't continue my words. I just couldn't. Everytime I think about it…I am reminded of how horrific that experience was…for me and it would have been the same for anyone who would have gone through the same. 

But right now…what nobody knew was…that…even if I was scared of those monsters but…I was more terrified of the man who now held me in his arms like I was his possessed trophy. 

I was more terrified by him.

The memory of his eyes from before, flashed behind my own eyelids. 

Not the cold, calculated stare he usually wore. This was something else. Something empty and yet dangerous…that lingered in them. 

A flat, dead calm, like the surface of a lake after something terrible has sunk to the bottom. He’d moved with a kind of brutal, effortless grace. 

A flick of the wrist. A shift of weight. And then the gunshot, so loud it wasn't a sound but a vacuum, sucking all the air from the world.

He hadn't blinked. Not once. There was no pause, no moment of consideration. 

It was just… action. 

A thought completed. And before that… God, before that. The things he’d done to make the man talk.

The wet, ragged sounds that weren't screams anymore, just the awful mechanics of a body breaking down. 

The coppery smell of blood that had soaked into the concrete, a dark, spreading stain around a ruined thing that used to be a person. 

He’d done that. With his own hands.

And he’d done it for…me.

That’s the part that curdled my insides. That’s the thought that iced my veins.