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A loud belly laugh interrupts my distraction as Carlo Rhivers walks out the door, slapping a shorter man on the back as he laughs at something that’s been said.
The other men have dispersed to their cars, engines already starting to rumble. Dax leans over a black car from the passenger side door, tapping his fingers lightly on the roof as King leans on the driver’s side casually, lighting up a cigar.
And there, in front of me, Carlo Rhivers is left wide-open. There’s no one protecting him from my line of sight.
It’s now or never.
I click the safety off my gun and hold it up slowly, trying not to make any sudden movements to blow my cover now that I’ve got this close.
I know my aim is immaculate. I’ve trained too hard for this to miss.
It’s now or never.
My tongue sticks out over my bottom lip in concentration. My breathing steadies as I try to fight the nerves creeping up my spine. I close my right eye and look directly down the barrel of the gun.
It’s now or never.
I pull the trigger, the loud bang piercing the silent night. A blaring echo interrupts the peaceful breeze in the trees surrounding me.
I recoil the tiniest bit from the shot, my breathing now rapid, my heart racing.
I stare ahead, the dim light illuminating the scene unfolding in front of me.
Men scatter from their cars. The guards haul their weapons up and aim towards the bushes where the shot was fired from. To where I’m now standing.
King and Dax are still leaning casually against the car, King’s cigar puffing between his lips as he witnesses the notorious First District leader drop to his knees.
Carlo’s eyes glaze over as his body falls, almost in slow motion, to the dirty ground. The blood trickles into his eyes and down his nose, decorating his suit a crimson red from the fresh bullet wound, right in the middle of his forehead. Delivered by a woman with a vendetta.
3
KING
I heardthe gunshot before I acknowledged what was happening. The adrenalin that surged through me at the noise I’m no longer frightened of but rather excited by rings through my ears. A small smile, one no one would have noticed in the chaos, creeps up my face.
I didn’t think she’d actually do it.
I see my father hit the ground.
First his knees.
Then his stomach.
And finally his head, with a fresh bullet wound to finish his descent.
When noticing I’m in no hurry to check on Carlo, Dax makes his way over to him, dropping to his knees at his uncle's side, feeling for a pulse. Which is pointless. Why bother when we all saw the bullet go straight through his skull?
My father wasn’t a nice man. Everyone knows that. Being the leader of the First District, having the authority and responsibility to overlook the other two Districts, required him not to be.
Not that I’d grant his death upon him now. I had plans for my father. Plans that required him dying atmyhand, whenIwas ready, in the most brutal, painstaking way.
I owe death upon my father through revenge and hate, not at the hands of someone else. They don’t deserve that victory.
I hear a rustling from my left and finally look up from my father’s dead body to see my father’s men, who I guess aremymen now, bringing a resentful Theodora Harlow from the shadows.
The gun she used is held firmly in the hands of one of the guards, whilst another restricted her hands behind her back.
She isn’t fighting them off or trying to get away. She knew this would happen and she’s welcoming it.
