𝐎𝐅 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐒

𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 | 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭

d.c.
     Snow sticks to my boots as I pace back and forth outside the cabin. Lewis Gill, an associate under Frasier, stands inside, holding a gun to the back of Corey Brass' skull. The Pictish Beasts and The Red Kilts have been bitter enemies since the beginning of time. When Frasier created the Pictish Beasts, he had originally created it with Corey Brass' father, Michael Brass, in mind as his underboss. When Michael was unhappy with his position in the Mafia, he left and created his own Gang—The Red Kilts. When Michael was murdered four years ago, Corey inherited the position as a Mafia Boss from his father. Many speculated that the feud between the rivaling gangs would end once they were put under new management but when Corey speculated that the Pictish Beasts were involved with his Father's death, fuel was only added to the fire that raged on in the war. I shove my gloved hands into my pockets, my left hand finding the Handgun that was stuffed into the pocket earlier by Lewis. The feeling of my fingers against the metal, loaded and dangerous, causes a shiver to trail up my spine. This isn't a cold shiver, however. Lewis and I have been assigned to assassinate the Brass family—47 year old Lewis, 41 year old Jennifer, and 15 year old Hanna. This shiver reminds me that I am a murderer. This shiver reminds me that I am hurting more than just these three people. This shiver reminds me that by sunset, there will be three fewer people in the world because my Boss doesn't agree with this man's antics. The icy-cold breeze brushes against my ears, causing a deep chill. I can hear Jennifer whimpering inside, begging Lewis to stop.
     "Please, Sir! Please, please, please! Don't do this! He has a daughter! Don't do this, please." She begs.
     I reach up, pulling my hat back down over my ears, shivering again. Lewis knew that I couldn't hurt a kid. Lewis understands that I can't shoot children. He knows that I have too much compassion for kids.
     "Back up. Against the wall. Now!" Lewis screams at Jennifer.
     I can hear her through the window. I can see her stand, backing up against the wall. Hanna stands in the center of the room, watching Lewis with dark, tearful eyes. Lewis aims the gun at Hanna, no sympathy in his eyes. Something breaks within me and I push the door open. The family of three turns their heads, watching me. I turn off the safety of the gun in my pocket and hold it in my hand in my pocket.
     "Welcome, Dev. Get over here and help me with this." He says, not looking away from Hanna.
I shake my head, approaching Jennifer. Her wrists are bound together by black zip-ties. Her mascara drips down her face and she looks at me.
"Please, no. Please don't." She begs, grabbing my wrist tightly.
I look over at Corey, biting my lip. I approach him, grabbing his arm. I hoist him to his feet.
"No! Please, wait!" Jennifer screams from the corner, tears dripping down her face.
I drag him outside, away from the windows and doors.
"You and your family needs to go off grid. You need to seem dead or else this will just keep happening to you." I say. "I will get Jennifer and Hanna out alive and as soon as I do, you three need to disappear. You'll only have a couple minutes to run so you better do it quick."
I remove the gun from my pocket and raise it, shooting over his shoulder. Jennifer screams inside the house, sobbing loudly.
"Go, Corey. Go, now! I'll get them out as soon as I can." I say.
I shove the gun back in my pocket and step inside. Lewis stands over Hanna, watching her cry.
"Damn, Dev. Didn't take you for the Boot 'em and Shoot 'em kinda guy." He says. "Nice work."
I nod. I approach Jennifer, grabbing her arm. I pull her to her feet. She cries, shaking her head.
"On your feet. Move—Let's go." I say, walking her outside.
She cries, pulling away from me. I remove a knife from my pocket, clicking the blade open. She sobs even louder. I shush her, shaking my head. I grab her wrists, cutting the black zip ties off. I press a finger to my lips, signaling for her to stay quiet. She nods, crying again.
     "Why are you helping us? Why are you turning on your Boss?" She asks.
     I sigh, shaking my head as I look down at her, wondering the same thing.
     "I didn't choose this life. I was born into it—that's what went wrong. I knew this shit like the back of my hand by the time I was ten. And so too does Hanna. You need to help get her out of this before she's stuck for forever." I say. "Corey ran down a hill in that direction. He's waiting for you. I'll get Hanna out soon. Go, now." I say.
She nods. I fire over her head, sighing out. I put the gun back into my pocket and walk inside.
Lewis crouches, smiling at Hanna. He reaches forward, brushing her hair out of her eyes.
"Stop toying with her, Lewis. We have a job to do." I say.
I walk over, pulling her up onto her feet. She bites her lip, staying silent.
"Wait, Devyn, What are you doing?" Lewis asks, an eyebrow raised.
"Change of heart. I'll take care of this." I say, approaching the door.
I walk Hanna outside, removing a knife from my pocket. I cut the zip ties off her wrists and look down at her.
"I'm not gonna hurt you. Your parents are down the Hill over there, waiting for you. Run and don't come back!" I say.
I shoot the ground and the noise echoes through the woods. I watch her run and turn around. Lewis stands behind me, the gun raised.
"What are you doing?" He asks. "Why do I see Hanna running away? Where are the bodies—where's the blood? You didn't kill them. You let them go—you let them run!"
He swings a fist at me, his knuckles splitting my eyebrow. I can feel the hot, sticky blood dripping down my face. I punch him, shove him back.
"What would dear old Daddy have to say about your lies? Your conspiracies?" He asks, pushing me against the wall.
I kick him back, shoving him off of me. He stumbles back, hitting a tree. He groans, reaching up to his head. I run at him, kicking him. He grabs my foot, causing my to fall onto my back. I swing my leg, kicking him in the head. He groans, slumping against the tree. I stand, grabbing my gun. I fire once, shooting his knee. He screams, his voice echoing. He reaches forward, grabbing me by the jacket. He pulls me forward, close to him. Suddenly, he reaches into his pocket and removes something. The barrel of his gun presses to my chest, and fires.