A/N: Sorry for the wait but this chapter is a lot. For those of you who have been caught up for a while, I'm going to be updating the previous chapters with more detailed comments to follow me to get those announcements. I will be also posting some bonus chapters earlier in the book so be sure to check those out. S/O to BryannaGermanOfficial for coming into the DMs and encouraging me to finish because y'all wouldn't have gotten this chapter (yet) if it wasn't for her. Sometimes I get so caught up in perfection, I lose sight of what's important and I apologize. But I will post what I have left before doing any more major changes. Y'all deserve to see this to the very end.
TW: EXTREMELY GRAPHIC VIOLENCE
"I've killed many times before so killing a little shit like you won't even be worth remembering," Yves declared, causing both of their expressions to sober up immensely. "I'll ask you one more time before blowing your brains out. Where did you put the drugs that you stole?"
Ron narrowed his eyes. "Are you fuckin' retarded? Are you deaf? I told you that I'm not going to tell you where anything is, you―"
"It's the kitchen! We have them stuffed in bags of flour! Please, just don't kill him," Joyce pleaded, holding her injured husband tightly.
Ron smacked his wife across the face, exposing his dirt and mud covered fingernails. "How could you give up our hard work like that? I swear you're dumber than a doorknob. Is there anything up there in that brain of yours?"
Yves aimed again and placed a 9mm bullet right between Ron's beady brown eyes, causing his head to fall back, spraying blood into Joyce's eyes. As the blood dripped through her lashes and tear filled eyes, she stared at Yves, looking betrayed.
Yves shrugged. "I don't like people who love to run their mouth."
Joyce immediately got up and started to dart for the door but it was too late. Her fate was sealed from the moment that Yves walked through the door. No one could escape one of his bullets.
She reached the doorknob desperately as Yves shot one last time, at the center of the back of her head, right in the middle of her brain. Her flesh splattered prettily on the door. Her body slumped down before making one last thud. Yves stared at the remnants of her head. Her eyes were wide open in fear.
The sight of the both of them pissed him off. They reminded him of his stupid parents who sold him away to get a fix. He emptied his magazine by exchanging bullets between the both of them, firing back and forth, each of their bodies thumping one more time like they were still alive.
He dropped the gun to the floor and went to go check if the information that they gave was correct. The kitchen was as dingy as the living room. He could see roaches and ants crawling over week old pizza and burgers. The entire house already smelled of rot. The bodies probably wouldn't be discovered until much later.
He saw massive flour bags scattered around the floor. He took his pocket knife and cut open one of the bags. The woman had told the truth. The blue crystals sparkled once they were exposed to the moonlight.
"Son, that was amazing! Good thinking on your feet." Father's muffled voice came from the other side of the door. He knocked it down, stepping over Joyce's bullet riddled body. He clapped while he beamed at Yves. He looked down at the two of the bodies on the floor. "A little bit of overkill though."
"You said dramatic, sir," Yves bowed. "I was trying to comply with your demands." He hoped Father didn't press him on it further. He didn't want to talk about what his true motivations were.
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The Agency
Misteri / Thriller{Completed, mostly} When Alex Stroud is the victim of an attempted hit on his life during his morning coffee run, he hires the woman who saved him, Virginie Methót, to protect him from the ghosts of his past. However, she has plenty baggage of her o...
