killer instinct - || h.s. ||

84

Mia yelps in fear while I squint my eyes away from the sudden light, flinching at the mere sound. My eyes gradually adjust to the white fluorescents, perceiving none other than Moore himself.

My entire body becomes taut, jaw locking into place as he steps into the hostage of the ring. And my unsteady breathing flat lines at the sight of an oddly familiar blonde, trailing behind Moore.

"Oh, don't give me that look, sweetheart, you only have yourself to blame for not listening to me." He mewls.

He clutches a gun in one hand while balancing a glass of amber whiskey in the other. His bleached hair falls in every which way, just as the rest of him seems to be just as disheveled yet a whole range of outrageous Machiavellian schemes brewing within those icy eyes.

"So get it over with it." I challenge him, watching as his brow raises with an eye peering over at the blonde that seems to just lurk in the shadows. "Do whatever the hell will satisfy your fucked up need for revenge but you leave her out of it." I nod my head to Mia, finally getting a glimpse of her state under the lights. And she just seems to be so lost in her own head that she stares blankly at me.

An abrupt laugh puffs from his lips, and my eyes shoot to him despite the hammering into my skull with every noise and violent light just like the one from above. He cancels out the space between us, crouching beside me as he smirks to himself while he sips down a heavy gulp of his intoxicating whiskey.

He psychotically traces the gun barrel under my jaw, and I groan in restraint as I twist as far away from the feeling of the deadly weapon pressing directly into the hollow of my throat. "Where's the fun in that?" He smiles, tapping the end of the gun up against my chin with a deranged hum. "Right, Chloe?"

Directing his attention to the older, bleached blonde behind him, her arms crossed over her chest as she hums under her breath. And my entire body floods with the sort of rage I didn't know I was capable of enduring without bursting at the seams. "You–"

My eyes sear into her pitiful existence, and the realization that I know clicks into place. The most subtle of smiles meets her lips as she notices, prideful in a way that makes me want to claw at her — in the same arrogant way his father was to him.

"Liz, was it?" She cruelly grins.

All their pieces begin to click into place, besting anything I could ever imagine to the schemes that Moore had planned.

"You fucking cunt–" I grit out through my clenched teeth at her.

And my first instinct is to fight back, driving my heel into his gut with every last bit of force within me.

It knocks him back a pace, sloshing his precious whiskey over the rim of his cocktail glass and seeping through his shirt. But he vexatiously curses at me as I begin to yank at the ties holding me pathetically hostage.

"I'm going to kill you. I don't fucking care it's the last goddamn thing I do—"

Yet, reality hits me with a swinging hand that stridently collides with my cheek.

I gasp at the sting spreading like a wildfire across my skin, seeping into that ache pounding against my skull. "Prick–" gritting my teeth together the second he shoves the barrel of the gun into my head as he leans into me.

His breath laced with alcohol fogs my clarity and I don't dare back down from his seething gaze, inches from mine with my head waiting to be put out of its misery. "You watch yourself. You're lucky we have better use for your existence or you'd be dead already."