Luciano | Book I ✓

Chapter Forty-Four

a/n: when you really, really, really got your hopes and wanted to win a Watty but you don't ^^^

But on a serious note, congratulations to all the winners and thank you to everyone that actually took time to vote for Luciano! Now, who wants to join me in my corner with my tub of ice cream and my speakers blaring, "Pity Party"? No one? Okay...that's cool too.

SO BASICALLY WE'RE ALMOST AT 10K FOLLOWERS ON WATTPAD AND 200 ON TWITTER AND THAT'S CRAZY ILY

The length of this chapter is staggering im sorry I couldn't stop bye ily – I'LL BE STALKING THESE COMMENTS SO LIGHT THEM UP

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"Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends." – John 15:13

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I woke up to the feeling that I was being watched. It was an odd feeling and I tried to push it to the back of my mind, especially after reminding myself that three guards were on duty in my room. But it wasn't until I rolled over on my back, folded my arms across my chest, and sighed when I realized just how oddly silent it was. There was no sniffling, no shifting in seats, no low chatter. It was certainly odd, which is what led me to rolling over and flipping on the bedside lamp.

Least to say, I wasn't expecting nor was I ready for what I saw.

The two guards', who had initially been seated beside my only realistic exit, were now lying on the flood, their blood soaking the carpet. Their necks were cut clean and their lifeless eyes remained open, trained on a part of the bed I lay in. I slapped my hands on opposite arms as the goosebumps began to ripple. I didn't waste time turning to my left, only to find the third – and final – guard slumped against the wall, his fate similar to his friends.

I didn't have much time to absorb the shocking events that seemed to have taken place in my slumber. Before I could even utter a few curse words out of shock, a gun clicking drew my attention to the right side of the room. I jumped a little in the bed and gripped the duvet tighter as if it were a bulletproof vest.

My heart did a few flips, but not because I was scared or frightened for my life. Liam sat in a chair to my right, dressed in clothes as black as midnight. A gun rested casually in his lap and he seemed relaxed, content, as if I wasn't being held prisoner and three dead men weren't bleeding out on the floor. An eyebrow of his was lifted, a teasing smirk was pulling at the corner of his lip, and his eyes glistened. His hair seemed longer than the last I saw it and more than a few strands fell nonchalantly over his forehead. His facial hair had also grown out to a decent length and it took everything in me to keep myself from flying out the bed and pulling him in one of the biggest hugs he would ever receive.

You're still mad at him Faith. Stay mad.

"You're up." His voice was deep and I missed it. He didn't say it with any type of emotion, just a statement, a fact. I curled my legs up towards my chest and wrapped my arms around my knees.

I nod and glance around the room for a second. I wasn't looking for anything in particular, but it was an easy way to look away from him; his gaze was intense. "How long have you been sitting there?"

Pushing his sleeve up on his arm, he glances at the watch on his wrist. "About fifteen minutes."

I turn from him, casually noting the bodies on the ground. "And how long have they been dead?"

He doesn't check his watch this time, "About thirteen minutes."

I nod again and in a way, it feels like the conversation dies. I wasn't sure what direction to head it in. I mean, sure, the typical, "how the hell did you get in here?" would probably be a good question, or, "Where's Dominic and Rico?" but for some reason, I was drawing up a blank. Clutching the duvet, I pull it up to my chest and eye the dead bodies once more.