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It’s not the thought of dying I’m afraid of, rather the possibility that I’ll never see my little girl again. If there is a heaven and hell, there’s only one place I’m destined to go and my perfect little girl won’t be joining me there.
Charles looks me up and down, a feral grin on his face. “Glad someone has come to their senses.” He says, dragging Fallon to her feet by her hair. She lets out another pained cry and Arriana stiffens beside me.
Taking a step forward, he suddenly freezes, looking between us. “Toss your weapons over here.” He commands, shifting Fallon to cover his body like the coward he is as he adds, “Slowly.” Arriana and I pull out the guns from our pants and slide them across the floor. Charles waits before beckoning with his free hand. “And the others?”
Grumbling, we both bend over and pull out the hidden guns. “There.” I snap as the weapons slide to a stop in front of him. “Now let the fucking girl go Charles.”
“I’ll let her go but first,” Turning his sadistic smile on me, he gestures to the ground. “Get on your knees, hands behind your head.” I glare at him as I sink to my knees. Of course he wouldwant to add more humiliation to my execution. Charles bounces on his feet, a giddiness emanating from him as he shoves Fallon toward Arriana. “There, take the bitch back, I'm done with her.”
Fallon stumbles toward us as Arriana rushes forward and wraps her up into her arms. “Shhhmi vida.” Arriana whispers, turning and walking Fallon away from the firing squad. She pauses beside me, eyes glistening with genuine sorrow. “Thank you.” Reaching over she places a hand onto my arm. I’m careful not to react as I feel her slip a pocket knife in between my interlaced fingers. “Good luck.” She murmurs before continuing forward again.
I hear the door click shut and take a deep breath. Charles walks toward me, stopping just out of arm's reach. Clucking his tongue, he looks down his nose at me. “I gave you everything. Freed you after what you did. Gave you a life.” He sneers.
My teeth grind, flashes of my crimes going through my head. I never had an easy life and ended up in the wrong crowd. My first tattoo was part of my initiation. I thought at the time that I had found my people, a family that would never abandon me.
That proved to be far from the truth when a robbery went south and the clerk was shot. My crew turned their back on me the second the handcuffs clicked around my wrists. At first I was just supposed to be sentenced to thirty-one months as it was my first offense but that quickly changed when the clerk died.
My thirty year sentence quickly became life as I repeatedly broke into fights and eventually was recruited to another group in prison. My job became executing the hits on other inmates, my infamy enough to reach the ears of the vile man before me. I can still remember the day he came to meet with me.
The guard roughly shoves me forward toward the dining table. “Sit.” He commands, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Fuck you.” I grunt, sinking into the seat with a sigh. Even though I’m only thirty-two, my body feels like it’s ninety-twothanks to the years of sleeping on hard bunks and eating shitty food. “What am I doing here anyway?” I grumble, looking around the empty space.
The prick doesn’t answer, staring blankly into the distance. Before I can say anything else, the door bangs open and a man strolls in. I take in his expensive suit, meticulously trimmed hair, and the watch on his wrist that cost more money than I have ever had combined. “Hello Killian.” He greets, slinking into the seat across from me.
Watching him, I lean back and cross my arms. “Who the fuck are you?”
He chuckles, resting his arms on the table. “My name is Charles and I’m here to make you an offer.” I quirk an eyebrow at him. Tapping the table with his finger, he smirks at me. “How would you like to get out of this dump?”
I’m pulled from the memory by the same man. He has aged significantly in the sixteen years since we met.
Still dresses like a pompous asshole though.
I chuckle at the thought, laughing harder at the anger on his face.
“You think this is funny, asshole?” Charles snaps.
Looking him up and down then glancing at his wall of protective muscle, I shrug. “Actually yeah.” Shifting my fingers alongside the movement from my shoulders, I flick open the pocket knife. I have every intention of following through on my sacrifice but it doesn’t hurt to be prepared, just in case.
Charles’ face turns bright red as he boils over with rage. Striding forward, he slaps me across the face. I grin up at him. “You even hit like a bitch. What, afraid to actually punch me?” I snicker. “Last chance.” Shrugging once more, I tilt my head up toward him.
Glaring down at me, Charles pulls his arm back and snaps it forward, landing a surprisingly impressive punch square on my nose. “How’s that for a bitch.” He snarls.
Turning my head, I snort and spit out the small pool of blood filling my mouth. “Eh.”
Shrieking, Charles turns from me and storms back toward his men. “Kill him!” He shouts, pointing at me. “Fucking kill him right now.”
One man steps forward, raising his gun to aim at my head. I take in a deep breath and hold it, my mind filling with images and memories of my little girl.
A scream sounds at the same time I hear the gun fire. Turning toward the cry, my heart stops as my eyes meet hers. “Avamarie?” I whisper as I feel the bullet rip through my flesh.
Chapter 42
Avamarie
I watch in horror as the bullet hits Killian and he slumps forward. “No!” I scream, leaping forward. An arm wraps around my waist and yanks me back. “Let me go!” I screech, desperately trying to wiggle free from Andrew’s hold but he’s too strong.
“What are you going to do?” He hisses in my ear. My shoulders slump and I stop fighting.
