~The Fox~
I've flirted with death more times than I can count.
But right now? Things are about to get serious.
'One wrong move, and a bullet will be lodged in your head,' I tell myself before slowly opening the door of the van, then I step out.
The cool forest air washes over my face, sending a chill down my spine as I take two small steps away from the vehicle.
I angle my body just slightly, placing myself where I can see both the driver's and the side mirror's reflection.
My right hand starts to slide to the small of my back when I remember I have just two damn bullets left.
I should have known.
I should have known Luciano was trying to set me up when he told me not to carry extra bullets.
'It would be an easy job,' he said. 'I'm sure you won't even have to use your gun,' I scoff inwardly.
"Bastard," I mutter under my breath the moment I feel the familiar curve of cold metal.
Spinning around, my left hand moves like lightning and cocks the gun before my trigger finger can finish the job. One shot to his fucking head and the driver slumps forward against the wheel.
I ignore the blaring of the van's horn as I quickly aim at the man sitting by the left in the backseat and shoot him in the head, too. He drops, his head slamming into the side of the van with a sickening thud.
"Fottuta troia!!" The other guy yells as a click from my gun reminds me that I'm out of bullets and I'm on my own now.
As I turn to tackle him, he's already jumping out of the van with his gun raised, and I drop to a crouch to avoid the bullet he fires over my head.
Without wasting time, I jump up and kick his wrist hard with my boot, making the gun clatter to the ground.
He growls and lunges at me, but I bring my arm up and smash the butt of my gun into his temple.
A groan escapes him as he stumbles back into the van. The door is still wide open and he catches the side before he falls to the ground.
I quickly reach down to grab the knife from my boot but the second I lift my head, the van door slams into my skull.
A sharp burst of pain explodes through my head as I stumble backward and clutch my forehead. My head throbs and for a split second, I can't tell up from down because of the stars I'm starting to see.
'No. There's no time,' my instincts whisper.
I push myself up on shaky arms, just in time to see him scrambling toward his gun on the ground. I lunge for him and sink the blade into his shoulder with a strained grunt.
A raw and loud scream tears through his throat and he shoves me back with a force that takes me by surprise.
Giving ourselves a moment to catch our breath, our chests heave in sync as we glare at each other with murderous intent.
One of us is going to die today and it sure as hell ain't gonna be me.
The man yanks the knife out with a muffled grunt, staring at me like some rabid dog.
Then, he charges.
I manage to dodge left, but not fast enough. The blade slashes my cheek and I yelp as a fresh wave of stinging pain travels across the side of my face.
He flashes me a cocky grin, revealing a set of disgusting yellow teeth.
I force a thin smile back at him before driving my knee to his crotch with a hard kick. As soon as he doubles over, that's all I need to twist the knife from his hand and stab it into his neck.
His eyes bulge as he gurgles, his hand instinctively flying to where the knife is deeply buried in him.
Blood spews from his neck like an ever-flowing fountain and I watch as he collapses to the ground, coughing and sputtering as he finally meets his inevitable end.
'Sorry, Death, but it looks like I won't be seeing you today.'
After I catch my breath, I proceed to take their guns and search for any extra bullets they might have on their bodies.
Luckily, I find more than enough rounds along with a silencer safely tucked in the back pocket of the driver.
'Of course, they came prepared,' I muse in my head as I attach the suppressor to the barrel of the dead man's pistol.
A perfect fit.
My lips twist into a menacing sneer as I start to find my way out of the forest.
That bastard—he fucking lied to me.
He fucking set me up.
My own boyfriend… tried to have me killed?!
My teeth grind together in fury as I picture Luciano's shitty face in my head.
That prick completely underestimated me and doesn't have any idea who the fuck I am!
But today… I'll make sure he never forgets me.
—-
The last of Luciano's men drops to the ground at my feet like a sack of potatoes.
"Amateurs," I mutter, stepping over his dead body.
Luciano's men barely even put up a fight. So much for having intimidating sizes and deep, guttural voices.
I reload my gun with their bullets, the silencer still in place.
My steps are slow as I go up the winding staircase, still trying to wrap my head around the reason Luciano would want me dead.
'Was he aware of it? Or did those dickheads want to kill me on their own because they were getting uncomfortable with my relationship with Luciano?'
'Maybe I'm just overthinking it.'
'There's no way Luciano would want me dead. He'd better not.'
'I'm sure he doesn't even know what they were planning to do.'
A low sound from the floor above pierces through my thoughts and I freeze.
It's faint… rhythmic, and… repetitive.
The sound is muffled and I strain my ear to properly make out the sound.
What follows is a groan. Then, a soft, breathy moan.
My heart slowly comes to a stop.
No. Fucking. Way.
I quietly walk up the last few steps with my trigger finger already in position.
The door to Luciano's — no, our — bedroom is slightly open.
Another fucking moan echoes through the house. It's louder this time, and undoubtedly female.
Then comes a grunt—deep, guttural, and filled with immense satisfaction.
I squeeze my eyes shut, breathing through my nose as pure rage flows like molten lava in my veins.
My shitty excuse for a boyfriend is in here.
Fucking. Someone.
While I was fighting to make it through another damn day without being hit by a bullet or stabbed by a knife…
He was in here — burying himself in someone else to celebrate my death.