AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Remember your training, Sana.
At that thought, I forced out a tear, the men’s eyes heating in a way that nearly made me nauseous. On the outside, I was a shaking, crying child, but on the inside, I was calculating and reading the room, waiting for my opening. My hand was clutching the knife so hard it hurt, but I wasn’t willing to relax, my body ready to strike as soon as I could.
“There's a good girl. Come here, sweetie,” the man said, holding his hand out to me and putting on a kind smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. It was my one and only shot at a surprise attack, and I wasn’t going to let them win. I forced my shoulders to relax and reached forward slowly, expecting him to yank me to him, and he didn’t disappoint. Using the momentum against him, I slammed the knife into his throat, cutting his windpipe. His eyes went wide as he gurgled, dropping me when he slumped to the floor. I wiped at the blood on my face and looked at the others, all of them cursing but preparing themselves for a fight.
“She’s a fucking child! Come on, guys,” one of them jeered, stepping forward and dodging the knife as he snatched me up. Unfortunately for him, I’d been trained to attack from every hold, even with my shoulders gripped tight by a man who was towering over me. Lifting my arm, I slammed the knife into his eyes, embedding it as deep as I could before wrenching it back out. The scream that tore from his throat was loud and feral, but somehow he managed to pull me down with him as he fell, one of his buddies lunging toward us and slipping on my first kill’s blood. With an ungainly stagger, he dropped on top of me, my knife hitting him in the gut. Asshole #3 let out a high-pitched scream that resounded in the room.
Knowing that alone wouldn’t kill him, I used all of my strength to twist the knife to the side, its sharp serrated edge cutting through muscle and tissue as it went. Oh, this will be so messy. Blood poured from the wound, soaking through my thin, white nightgown as he gurgled for air, choking as his lungs filled.
Three down, two to go.
As if on cue, the dying man was lifted off of me, and I clung to the slippery knife like my life depended on it… because it did. My newest assailant was furious, his teeth clenched as he leaned down and grabbed me. Guess I wouldn’t be happy either, seeing my buddies killed by a little girl. Before I could take a breath I was thrown into the wall, my air knocked out of me by the rough concrete.
“How fucking dare you! Get her grandfather in here; he’s a dead man,” he growled to his companion. The lackey headed for the other door, trying to yank it open, but they were locked in with me.
“It’s fucking locked. This was a setup!” he yelled, distracting the man in front of me. I was already on my feet and rushing at him before either of them noticed, knife in hand. He caught me and tried to throw me over his shoulder, but I used the assistance to my advantage and sliced across his throat, another spray of blood coating me like a macabre live action painting. We both dropped, and I finished the cut, digging as deep as my small arms could force the blade.
“Oh fuck no, prime merchandise or not, you’re going to die now,” the last guy promised, reaching into his boot and pulling out a knife. It was smaller than mine, but from the bright lighting I could tell it was sharpened to a fine point, definitely enough to do damage if I gave him the chance. “Come here, you little bitch!”
“No,” I said calmly, facing off with him and watching his every tic, breath, and movement, waiting for another opening. This was life and death, and I would come out alive, no matter what I had to do. I’d seen enough murder and mayhem in my time to handle this. Honestly, I’d seen worse.
The man prowled around me, circling me like a tiger with its prey, but he was still underestimating me, which was stupid, given that I’d just murdered four of his comrades. I watched as he edged closer and closer, hoping I could pull this off with everything in me.
When he lunged forward, I tried to jump away, but his knife was embedded in my bicep. The force of his strike and the painful sting made me drop my knife. He laughed gleefully as he reached for my bigger weapon and stalked forward, morbid glee in his eyes as he lifted his hand, getting ready to slam it into my heart.
“Forgive me,” I whispered, using my good hand to yank out the blade and roll away, ignoring the searing pain and blood seeping out of the wound. When he turned my way, shocked at the movement, I slammed his knife into his neck, hitting right on target, and his body slumped down to join the others.
I knew I’d be in here for a while; Eros would let me soak in the massacre for hours, just to try and harden my will more than it already had been. It wasn’t enough to just fight off and kill five grown men; no, my grandfather would want to see a steely spine and stoicism in the face of the carnage I’d wrought. Tearing a strip from one of the men’s shirts, I wrapped my arm and went to the corner, sliding down to the floor and blindly staring at the blood painting the floor scarlet. My entire body trembled as I tried to shove away the awful scene before me despite knowing that small indulgence of weakness would not be overlooked by Eros.
“Otsana!” My name echoed around me, Keir’s harsh tone wrenching me out of the memory. I blinked rapidly, reorienting myself as I glanced down at the vaguely familiar man. Thanks to my all too bloody trip down memory lane, I realized he must have been a brother or son of the first man I’d killed in that room. Their features were far too similar to be anything otherwise. There was no way they’d have known I was responsible for those deaths, not unless Grandfather Eros had made it so. Goddamn it. Normal grandfathers brag about their granddaughter’s dance recitals, not their first body count.
“Sana?” This time it was Gabe’s voice coming from further away, and I glanced over to see Keir and Kyrell holding him back. Killian was in front of me, looking startled, his eyes darting back and forth between me and the body on the ground.
“I’m okay,” I told Gabe, but I was facing Killian, who looked at me with wild eyes that saw through me too much for comfort. I couldn’t bring myself to tell them the truth, my grandfather’s lessons holding me too tightly in their iron grip. Priamos didn’t say they would be okay; a Priamos had to just be okay.
“I’ve already got cleanup on the way, Baby Girl. Don’t worry about that trash. Now, tell me what the fuck happened,” he ordered, but I couldn’t do anything but shake my head and blink at him, each brief closing of my eyes threatening to send me into the darkness of another memory. I shouldn't be surprised how quickly they handled situations, but it did make me wonder how long I’d been frozen.
“I met his father… once,” I explained. Pain seared in my palm, and I hissed, realizing I had a death grip on my gun, the barrel digging into my hand. Using my other hand to hold the gun, I uncurled my fingers and flexed it, clicking on the safety before tucking it back in the harness. Unable to avoid it any longer, I looked up at Killian. His eyes were deadly, giving away his building anger even though he was clearly trying to rein it in and make sure I wasn’t hurt. Sure, the Adrostos were cold-blooded killers, but they’d never liked it when I was upset or harmed.
For a moment, I wavered on my feet, the adrenaline crash hitting me hard as my body trembled. It was a show of weakness, but no matter how hard I tried to stop it, my body refused to hold on to that tiny shred of dignity. “Fuck, I’m fine. Go away.” My words were harsh and angry, but my voice wavered, and his eyebrows dipped down in such obvious concern that I knew it hadn’t gone unnoticed.
“She needs to go home. Who’s meeting cleanup?”
“No one,” Keir said, already walking toward us with two unfamiliar men behind him as another ushered Gabe away, flashing him what looked like a fake badge… that or the guys had friends in high places. Given what I’d seen of them so far, the second was very likely. “We take her back to our place and have a little chat.”
“No,?
? I said, but Keir swiped a finger over my face, showing me the blood adorning my pale skin.
“Yes.” That was all he said before I was suddenly thrown over his shoulder and carried away, my body still too shaky to fight back. Unable to do anything else, I allowed him to carry me, trying to not let the darkness consume me.
“What was that?!” Killian demanded as he paced back and forth in front of me. They’d at least given me a glass of whiskey and a blanket before interrogations began, and I gave in to the urge to pull the blanket tight around me. I guess this is considered romance for a mob boss.
“It was PTSD,” Kyrell surmised from the chair across from me, nodding at me with a look of respect.
“Who caused it? I’ll fucking kill them,” Keir ground out from his spot near the bar cart, his glass shattering between his fingers and blood spilling onto the shards below. He cursed and winced as the alcohol spilled onto the open wound. Instead of cleaning it up, he just watched the blood drip, the sight apparently comforting to him, his shoulders relaxing as he watched it cascade down to the floor. Damn, these men had grown up to be psychos in their own ways. Good thing psycho was my type. Well, would be if I were actually going to let them claim me.
Which I’m not.
