Always Be There. [BSD x Reader]

Chapter 10: Valeria Konstantinov

_____2: 42 JST_____

Suddenly, all men dropped their weapons and made way to the hooded visitor. With the snap of her pale fingers, all of them dropped to their knees. Bet they broke their kneecaps with such abruptness in movement. In closer inspection, I could see their eyes flash a malevolent red glint before suddenly dulling and losing natural color, reducing it to identical shades of gray. Studying the one closest to me, I saw the vein peeking just above his shirt's collars swell. His skin turned ghostly pale and his lips quivered as he incoherently mumble to himself.

With just a quick motion of her fingers, everyone except I and her became madmen under what seemed to be a lasting curse. It is as if their minds now belong to her for her own advantage.

Assumingly so, It should be that that advantage is to slaughter me with her own hands without interruptions.

I know her well enough after all.

"If it isn't Konstantinov." Came that voice I've became so fond of four years ago.

There's no way she could die in the hands of her own ragdolls that time when we parted ways in that forked highway. And I've been quite certain that we'll have to meet again given the circumstances.

Our gazes met once she stepped out of the shadows. Burgundy glittered under the hood as the moonlight caress the features of her face. Her distasteful look made the doubts in my head quiet down.

"Whaddup?"

"Don't you 'whaddup' me." I sneered. "How could you play the pampered hostage while I get my ass chased down by your henchmen then ask me how I'm doing?"

"What are friends for?"

"For the bliss of cutting off their limbs with a circular saw then stuffing every piece of them in a cello case and chucking every damned ounce of their existence in an incinerator."

Her eyes rolled arrogantly. "How lovely."

She now wore the hood her father gave her. It's black faux leather soiled down the seams. From chopped black locks that brushes her shoulders, her hair now flawlessly swung to the base of her back. I even see a hint of makeup in her face. And here I thought cosmetics are a huge hindrance for her. So noticeable changes yet I still find her the same filthy Goddovian I hand-to-hand combatted in my third day at the hellhole.

The same ally-rival.

The same snake with a soul of a rabbit.

"What do you want?" I finally asked her, stepping forward. "Don't tell me your one of these idiots." Smirking, I proudly held up the safe—which is still inconveniently dumped in my already numbing hands. "So you finally woke up from your daydreams and accepted that you are a filthy Goddovian. Shame, I would like to give you credit for the possible success of this treasure hunt."

"Don't you assume things. Just so you know, I am doing this for the same reasons you have." Her eyes flashed. "To bring down the enemy."

"I see. You're still after the drafts."

Her gaze wavered from mine.

"Of course."

I snickered lightly. "What? Is that hesitation I hear from you?"