Elira's POV
"No... No," he whimpered. He was on his knees, hands shaking in front of him like he was saying a prayer. Tears and snot poured down his blotchy face, the sharp smell of piss already staining the air around him. His suit, once pressed and smugly tailored, was now wrinkled and soaked.
Pathetic.
I stepped closer, the soles of my boots clicking coldly against the stained warehouse floor. He flinched at the sound.
"Please—"
Wrong move.
I raised the gun.
The barrel met his forehead. I saw my reflection in his teary eyes and watched his face drain of all colour as I smirked. I pulled the trigger. The first bullet cracked his skull, filling the silent room with sound. Blood painted the wall behind him in red splatters. His body jolted, and he fell to the ground with his eyes open.
Then I emptied the rest.
Chest. Shoulder. Gut. Neck.
By the time I was done, there was nothing recognisable left above the collarbone. Just a lump of torn meat and shattered bone.
"Clean it up," I yelled at my subordinates.
"Yes, ma'am!" Three of my men rushed forward, slipping a body bag off their shoulders. They didn’t flinch. They’d seen worse. I made sure of that.
I turned away, already done with the mess. The stench of blood clung to the air. I hated that smell. Always had.
I walked out of the room, throwing the empty gun in one of the bins that sat by the way and took off my gloves, throwing them alongside the gun.
As much as I knew the blood I had on my hands, I felt freer after disposing of any evidence that I had killed someone. Hypocritical, I know but it helped me feel better about myself.
Out in the hallway, the lights flickered. My heels echoed as I made my way through the compound, passing steel doors, armoury rooms, and offices guarded by my best men. Every person I passed nodded, greeted, and stood a little straighter. Not out of respect. Out of fear.
Good.
I was not here to be liked.
My empire stretched from smuggled weapons in the Balkans to insider trading in the heart of Manhattan. Every deal, every body, every coin flowed through me. After my father was taken out, I rebuilt it from the ashes. Bigger. Stronger. Colder.
And unlike the old bastards who thought a preppy, good girl like me couldn't run this whole show, who'd run this place to the ground, I didn't make room for sentiment.
Except for Lucifer.
I pushed open my office door and was immediately greeted with a soft meow. The black cat sat on my desk, licking his paw, tail flicking. His emerald eyes locked onto mine.
"You’re the only man who gets away with attitude around here," I muttered, stroking his back. He purred, head-butting my hand. My expression softened for a breath.
Only he got to see that part of me.
My gaze shifted to the picture frame near the desk. My father, suited up, eyes hard but proud. I picked it up, brushing off the speck of dust.
"I did what I had to today, Papa. Just like you'd have done."
"I'd take them all out one by one. Anyone who dares to betray us" My fingers brushed his photo, memories rushing in of my father and me.
He had always thought it wrong to introduce me into this world of his. He had even tried to leave after he met my mother, but that would mean that he'd have to give up his life and my mother's too, but she was pregnant with me... So he stayed and it eventually got him killed.
He hid this life the best he could, but not before letting me know the basics of handling a gun at age thirteen after my second kidnapping. My father was the best in the world no matter how many lives he took.
Flashback
I pulled open the large doors, rushing in with my suitcases behind me.
"Marthaaaa, I'm back. I need your special fruit juice right now. The flight was hellish" I yelled excitedly, walking further into the building. I had just completed my degree in international relations and was ready to start working at Daddy's office the following Monday. It was all I had been preparing for all my life.
After my mother passed away from cancer when I was sixteen, Martha basically raised me.
She should be running up to me by now but the entire house was dead silent.
"Martha?" I walked over to the kitchen and saw no one there, and the cooker was on, the water in the pot was already over-boiled.
Something in my chest hurt and that was when I knew something was wrong.
I dropped my bags to the ground as I ran with all my strength up the stairs. I stopped in my tracks, placing my hand over my mouth and choking back sobs when I saw Martha on the floor in the hallway with blood pooling around her.
Her face was turned in my direction, and her eyes were open, looking as though they were staring at me, and she could see me.
I staggered towards her and fell to my knees, not caring that her blood was soaking up my dress.
"Martha? Martha, get up. Please..."
Tears fell from my eyes as I placed my head to her chest, confirming what I already knew.
She was dead.
I slowly got up to my feet and cleaned my tears, and as I thought of my father, the sound of a gun going off filled the entire house.
My brain went blank and I didn't know when and how my heels got off my feet as I sprinted down the hall to my father's office.
I pushed open the door to see two men in the room. Their heads turned to me when I burst in looking like a mad woman, and one had a gun pointed at the ground.
No, no, no, no...
My eyes slowly traced who he was pointing at, and the bracelet that I gave my father before leaving for college came into view, and my eyes watered.
"NO!" I screamed out, crumpling to the ground.
"What do we do with her? We were only instructed to kill the maid and the old geezer" one of the men spoke to the other who still stood over my father.
"We'll take her with us," he said in a boring tone.
I didn't know what came over me, maybe it was the rage of seeing the two people I loved the most dead on the same day and in less than a minute apart. Maybe it was realising that I no longer had a family, maybe it was realising that I was now alone, maybe it was the fact that I had my future taken from me.
All I knew was that I got up from the ground, walking purposefully to the bookshelf in my father's office.
The men watched me in silence as I pressed some buttons and watched a hidden vault open. I pulled open the door and took out my father's most prized gun.
He never knew that I knew of its existence.
"Shit, she's got a gun. What do I do, boss?" the other man started panicking, but the one who killed my father burst out laughing.
"Relax, she definitely doesn't know how to use it"
I checked for bullets and stared at him with the gun pointed in his direction, and with a tear-streaked face, I pulled the trigger.
The bullet lodged itself in his throat and he fell to the ground, dying on the spot.
The other hooded man was still in shock when he saw his boss dead.
"I guess I do know how to use a gun" I said to him humourlessly before shooting him between his eyes.
I walked feeling numb towards my father's dead body, bending to cradle his body in my arms.
"I killed them, Papa. I will kill those who sent them, too. I will kill them all."
I caressed his face gently, giving him a peck to his forehead before getting up and taking the telephone from the table and dialling the only last person I could ever trust.
"Nico. Come over to my father's mansion now."