Claimed

Three

I found myself waking up with an excited grin on the morning of day 707 of my self-assigned mission. I sat up and looked at the king’s picture that resided itself on the wall across from my bed and walked over to it. Looking at the grainy picture that was taken as some cop’s poor attempt of being stealthy, I sighed and ran my fingers across the king’s face.

“I hope you’ve fulfilled all of your life’s wishes, my King, because it’s about to stop today.” I informed him and got ready for work.

After a long wasted day of nothing more than mild domestic violence and some roguish teen prank complains and trying to keep my matters private from the evil ears of Logan the eavesdropper, I dropped my cruiser at the parking of the apartment complex and headed into my apartment.

I hurriedly washed the tiredness of the day away, distracted by the ticking of time and threw on dark, easy-to-blend-in clothes and started making my way to the area I was tipped off about the night before on foot, making sure I had the bottles of Brandy in each of my hands along with my trusted packs of cigarettes in my pockets.

I remembered how I had to shoot my own comrades and hide their bodies with the help of Jay, my whipped friend, so I refrained from taking any risks and paid extra attention to not leave any hint of my nightly escapade. Jay was even setting up an alibi as I walked towards the sketchy, long abandoned town, rumored to host the vilest exchanges between gangs and mafias.

Jay thought I was a closeted bisexual and my job could be threatened if the identity of my hypothetical sexual and somewhat romantic partner ever got revealed so he was more than ready to save a damsel in distress who had a rendezvous planned with the chief’s innocent daughter, in exchange for all the details of the encounter and a few scandalous pictures. He was a disgusting pervert but it came in handy in desperate times of needs.

I found a lonely dock, terrorized by the thrashing of waves, cast in bright, humid fucking moonlight and decided to check it out. Just as I lifted a foot to move out from the shadow of a huge container and leave my hiding place, I heard the sounds of cars zooming in. Deciding to stay and see if I actually was going to succeed today, I quietly stepped back and waited for the commotion to unfold.

Within seconds, a grey SUV with tinted windows skidded across the bumpy pavement and stopped conveniently in front of the dock, making it easier for me to keep record of what was happening. Just before the SUV stopped, the door of the car slid open and a sorry excuse of a gangly, lean and halfway to death gang member rushed out to open the door of the black SUV that I just noticed behind them.

The sight that followed left me breathless with a white noise piercing my ears. The Latin King, in all his glory, stepped out as graceful as a serpentine and actually seeing his features in bright moonlight gave me tremors like I was a pathetic werewolf and him, my mate, oh joy. After sweeping his eyes all over the place, he enquired in a menacingly low voice, “Dònde está?”

The moment his voice entered my ears, my legs turned into mush and I couldn’t keep standing anymore without putting all my focus in staying still. I breathed deeply to try and calm myself and the blood rushing in my veins and forced my mind to interpret the sounds my ears were picking. The nausea and dizziness caused by the blood rush was more intense than anything I had felt before, which only helped in fueling my anger.

“He’s on his way, Mi Rey.” The sorry excuse informed him, eyes cast low, posture bent, “Since the suspicious burning down of the whorehouse in the South and no one to take claim for it, people have become hesitant in working with us for the time being, Rey.”

“Callate.” The king spoke in such a low, menacing tone, I had to strain my ears to hear that one word and ground myself so as not to let out a sound of pleasure, as pathetic as it sounded. The sorry excuse blanched at the single word and didn’t speak after that.

I could see the gears turning in the king’s gorgeous head and still couldn’t believe that I almost had him. The moon shone on his black curls and the deadly glint in his pale grey, almost white eyes was calling for me to finish him once and for all but I just had to wait for my time to come when I would finally claim the king and make him suffer for everything he had done.

I had to make sure that it didn’t come to him easy. I had to make sure he suffered for the 707 days he had made me wait. He had to beg for death and I still wouldn’t give it to him because when he died, I wouldn’t have a purpose left anymore.