Unholy Obsession

Chapter 11; Cutting heads

Vincent's POV

Book shopping, holding an umbrella for her, getting her a new phone?! What was happening to me? Yesterday, I did my absolute best to be an asshole to Hannah but everytime it came to do it, I did the sweetest things known to mankind. A shiver ran through my body. There was no room for any sort of emotional involvement in our arrangement.

The pain that has shot through her eyes when I refused her hug had sent nails to my heart. I couldn't bear spending another second with her after what we did. She was too sweet for me. I would taint her or worse, I feared she would make me rethink my decisions. Sadly, she was already doing so without even trying.

My phone buzzed on the dashboard and its white light flickered on Ahmed's face. I borrowed him from James so I could enact what I had planned to do tonight. He sat with a taut expression and a gas mask on his face. The buzz continued and I picked the call.

"What's the situation?" James asked.

The car was still ahead. "Still tailing him."

"An intersection is coming. If he takes the right, you'll have enough time to jump him."

"Alright."

And as expected, in the dark highway that was being lit up with the headlights of cars, Lance took a turn, entering a road that had forests siding both ends. I smiled. It was perfect. 

"Scanning vehicle," James said, a beep sounding on the speaker. "There's a gun at the cup holder area. Be careful."

In situations like these, I was always meticulous. When it came to Hannah, I couldn't afford any mistakes. Lance was in the picture and needed to be taken care of. Hitting the gas, I sped down the road, the g-force hitting my face. Reaching a sharp corner, I dipped a side of the car on the rough terrains of the forest, dusts spewing up to the window siding Ahmed. With this manoeuvre, I overtook Lance and a sharp screech tore through the air.

From the side mirror, I spotted him, hopping out with his gun, ready for combat. Shooting him was a good option. But I didn't want any bullet's in Esther's meal. She loved them fresh and untouched. I tossed out a gas bomb, a thick white mist enveloping the area. It had sedative properties. Fixing my nose mask, I hopped out of the car with Ahmed. 

The booming sounds of gunshots ripped in the air, the yellowish-red flares from the gun appearing occasionally. He was scared, shooting frantically. That was how I loved it. Fear death, but accept it. Reaching him, I knocked the gun out of his hand. I wore a glove so my DNA wouldn't be imprinted on the weapon. He dropped to the floor, muttering gibberish. I joined Ahmed and we both lifted him, settling him in the boot of my car.

"You have two minutes to get out of there," James said over the phone. "I've managed to stall the police by blocking out their communication. But it won't take long for them to override my command."

I started the engine and soon we were out, the sound of sirens echoing filtering out the further we went. By the time I had reached home, it was raining. Dragging the wet body, I entered the mansion and James joined us at the lobby, dressed in my white robe, a cup of whiskey in his hand. The bloke always found a way to make himself as comfortable as possible in my house. He took—make yourself at home—way too literally 

"That looks heavy," he said, gesturing at the body Ahmed and I carried. Because of the rain, the 7 foot man weighed twice his size despite two people carrying him. I could swear he was heavier than the world Atlas had to hold for punishment.

I groaned. "Shut up and help."

"Oh, no. It's your body to butcher. Besides, I've done my part."

"Cunt."