The Curse - Book 1 (Completed)

Chapter 26: The Calculated Murderer

How is it that he can always sense where to go? He has always had that gift.

A natural-born predator, Leeroy's lip curls staring at Ian through the window of his own home. ​How many people has he killed in this very same house? Too many to count. But this manslaughter, he will not enjoy as much as any other. This one is not for his own joy, but rather a collateral damage. Something he has to do for Sophia.

She will not understand, but it is for her own good. She is his family. And she has to be loyal to him. Because if she continues this behavior, he will be forced to part ways with her. And if she loses him, she will have nothing. He doesn't wish that for her. He wants her on his side. But not like this. He has to prove her loyalty. He cannot live in uncertainty of her love.

​With that thought, he makes the white door slide open with his mind. Slowly, not in his usual threatening way, but rather mirthlessly, he walks across the marble floor to sit on a little sofa beside the grand staircase.

He sits down and crosses his right leg over the left one. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Is it a sigh of agony? Fear of what will happen in the aftermath? Is he having second thoughts? No. He has never been indecisive. There is no place for insecurity.

​He hasn't felt this way in a long time. He doesn't understand his emotions. He had thought he knew himself well. Carnal desires, passion for murder, cruelty, arrogance, those are all of his sides that he is familiar with. These cramps in his insides is something he cannot clearly define. Is he hurt? He has to be hurt. He wouldn't have gone for a random manslaughter if he hadn't been. He hadn't done that since... Katrina. Since her betrayal. Anger starts building inside of him again, and he welcomes it with relief. Finally sometimes he can recognize. Rage is a big part of his personality, and when screwed over, he is not an enemy to neglect or ignore. Even Katrina...paid with her life for having deceived him. Even though it wasn't his wish for her to end that way.

Irony hits him. All of the people that tried to betray him ended up dead. Dead by his hand. Yet, the only enemy who managed in doing so, is the one who killed herself. And the only one he did not want dead.

​A sharp sigh runs to his lungs. It does not bring relief. It brings pain as hard as though the air was entangled in blades. And every time his chest lifts, blades scratch another part of his soul.

​Who knows how much time has elapsed? Minutes, hours... However much, a silent shut of the door brings him back to the present. It is time.

​He listens to his footsteps, careful and silent as always, not moving from his chair. As he hear a final tap of a leather shoe connecting with marble, he speaks.

​"Hello, Ian." The words surprise him. He hadn't planned on talking. What made him do so? Is he yearning for a conversation? That is nothing like him. He should end his life this instant.

​"Mr. O'Connor!" he exclaims, startled. "I...I didn't know you were home."

​Leeroy's eyes are locked onto his and it takes him a while before he nods. "I would've guessed so." He glances at his wrist and his eyes meet with Rolex glass showing the two arrows merged at the middle. Midnight. "How poetic," he murmurs to himself.

​"Sorry, what was that?"

​Leeroy lifts his head slowly, his eyebrows furrowed. "Nothing... Nothing, boy."

​And then he decides to end this...torture. He stretches out his hand and Ian's neck is snapped in a nanosecond. He watches him collapse onto the ground, hitting his head against the stair fence in the process. His head is bleeding. Good, he thinks. But as he is waiting for relief to come, he only welcomes a deeper anguish as he hears her hurried footsteps. Sophia.

​He keeps his eyes locked onto Ian. He cannot look at her. What will she do? Why does he care that much? Isn't he supposed to be indifferent? He has no weak spots. Not after Katrina killed herself.

​Why is it so silent? What is going on?

​His heartbeat starts racing faster, as he is waiting for a sound.

​Has he gone deaf?

​He finally lifts his head and gazes back towards where Sophia should be. He finds her standing in the middle of the staircase, still. Not moving. Not moving at all.

​Damn, he thinks. What does that mean? She doesn't care? This wasn't a punishment enough? Is she angry? Hurt? Does she hate him now?

​The questions torture his mind, while she keeps standing statue-still. She is wearing her usual clothes, all in black. Why isn't she saying something? Has her heart gone dark just as his? Was Ian her Katrina? Is she destroyed now?

​He cannot stand the silence anymore. He opens his mouth.

​What can he say?

​How should he present? Anger? Excuses?

​She deserved it. She didn't tell him Christopher came to their home. She did nothing about it. She let him leave. She betrayed him. She brought this upon herself. He shouldn't be feeling like this. What is he feeling? He should be satisfied. He can't name his emotion, but it is not satisfaction.

​He clearly sees her chest rising and shrinking, slowly. Then he realizes something. She isn't even looking at Ian. She is staring directly in front of her, at the wall. She looks distressed.

Why isn't she looking at Ian? Why hasn't she rushed to his side and kneeled beside him? Why isn't she crying? Is she really his soldier? Does she think she is forbidden to cry? No, that can't be it. Sophia is nothing if not defiant. She would never be afraid to show him her dissatisfaction.

​Say something, he thinks. Please.

​Please? The word shocks him. When is the last time he has used that word? He knows when. In his entire lifetime, he begged only once. And it was for Katrina's life. He begged that bastard who refused to help him. Alexander.

​He opens his mouth again, but before any words can come out, Sophia moves. She turns on her heel and walks back up. Is she going to her room? What is she doing? What does this mean?

​Sophia opens her bedroom door and as she does, tears rush to her face. Tears? When is the last time she has cried? Has she ever cried at all? Not as far as she can recall. Is it possible that Ian has meant that much to her? No. No, he didn't. She knows he didn't. It's not Ian she is crying for. It's Leeroy. It's the decision she has made while standing on the staircase. It's done.

​Can she do it? She might not be strong enough. But she can't stay here anymore. It is obvious Leeroy doesn't care about her. As far as he was concerned, she might have loved Ian. He would have been capable to kill anyone this way. Without any consideration for her. Does she really mean that little to him? Why is she surprised to find that out? Leeroy doesn't care about anyone. Apart from her dead mother.

​It's enough. It's where she draws a limit.

She wipes her tears, and takes a suitcase out of her sliding closet, then puts it on the bed. No tears, Scarlett, she tells herself. Luther doesn't deserve them. The decision has been made. And it is the single hardest decision she has ever made.