i am in shock omg. i woke up today with 7k reads on this story and the day is ending with 9.5k. this is insane 😭 thank you so much for reading. i'm appreciate the votes & comments.
chloejwroberts your comments made my entire day.
i keep extending this story lol. i said it'll end at chapter 30, then 33, then 36 but nope. oops? i realise while writing that i have too much to write about. but very soon everything will wrap up real nice. i'll write another smut scene+a bonus future scene.
edit: no bonus smut scene sorrey i replaced it with bonus shorts 😇
ily all. you've made me fall in love with my own characters.
(everybody dies by billie eilish)
ARIA
The tension in the car was so thick it could be sliced with a shard. Vincenzo was hesitating. If Cole didn't have the upper hand with Emma held at gunpoint, I didn't have a single doubt that he'd be dead.
The entire situation was a mess, and I was barely in the state to comprehend it. I was tired, covered with grime, and yet I had to force my mind to function. It was a difficult feat, but I managed to grasp a brief outline of what I could do.
The main priority was getting Emma and Damon out of the building safely. If their lives were secured, Vincenzo could deal with Cole without risking anything. Once Cole's plans were down, the organisation planning to steal Vincenzo's precious weapons would meet an inevitable doom. If his uncle's children had no interest in pursuing Vincenzo's armoury, then it would all be over.
But I couldn't get rid of Cole so easily. I doubted I had the capacity. He'd been a friend much longer than he'd been an enemy.
"Let me go in the house after we arrive," I told Cole.
He narrowed his eyes at me. "Do you think I'm stupid, Sweetheart?"
"Do you expect me to stand outside the mansion, covered in dirt?" I seethe.
The car only consisted of Vincenzo, the driver, me, beside him, and Cole at the back. He couldn't be trusted with Emma's life in his hand.
Cole considered me. "You're going to try something."
"Well, what a genius. You know damn well you've got a plan that covers all possibilities."
Correction: he had a plan that covered all possibilities he could come up with.
"So do you."
Correction: I know you have a plan.
"I have no interest in hurting you. You know I can't bring myself to," I said. It was a lie. He'd ambled past the limit of my patience and positioned our friendship in a guillotine to be beheaded. He'd gone behind my back and conjured sick schemes that shoved numerous lives in the path of risk.
He'd taken my adoration, my gratitude for him, and fragmented it with his bare hands. He was visibly concerned about the shards of my love slicing into his palm, but not nearly enough. It wasn't enough to stop his ludicrous plan.
Within seconds, Cole became someone new. I couldn't gaze at him without thinking of my father.
When the vehicle halted on its track towards the mansion and I soaked the sight of it, an audible gasp left my lips. The exterior was an utter mess; I couldn't imagine how the interior must appear.
"Oh, no," I murmured. The heaps of flesh scattered across the pavement towards the entrance mildly resembled sprinkles on cupcakes, randomly and carelessly dropped. My throat constricted, but I didn't allow myself to ponder too much of my current circumstance. It would overwhelm me.
"My men are aware that they're not allowed to touch a strand of your hair. There are several within the property, so you wouldn't be able to achieve anything you desperately wish," Cole said. During his long pause in speech, the cogs in his brains must have been rotating furiously. He spoke as if the words were memorised. "You can bathe. I will have civil conversations with Vincenzo in the meantime."
They couldn't maim the other without hurting themselves in the process, so I nodded and sauntered without grace towards the door.
Inside, my heart cracked and free-fell to the bottom of my stomach, buried in the contents of undigested material. Bile surged up my oesophagus, and I had to slap a hand over my mouth in an attempt not to puke.
Bodies everywhere. Thick maroon liquid seeped into the cracks on the ground, painting an intricate image of pure monstrosity. A masterpiece of limbs and wide eyes and lives with unfinished narratives cut short.
People were standing around, glancing at me first with a warning before turning to exchange mutters with others. They were Cole's workers. I had to give him credit for being able to get this far.
I ventured further into the room, spotting a man lounging on a couch and another toasting a piece of bread for himself. They looked too comfortable to be a team of gangsters.
I had a plan, but it required a life. I wasn't keen on being a murderer; very few people were. Five minutes ago, contained by the car and separated from the outside world, I decided. I thought, fuck it. For Emma and Damon, I am willing to live with the guilt.
Now, I wasn't so sure.
However, shooting Vincenzo's uncle wasn't a difficult feat, and he might have already bled to death.
Time had liquified and dripped from the space between my fingers, bracing themselves for the impact against the ground. I had no more left, and I had to choose.
Panic tore at my skin. I needed someone as a sacrifice. I'd lead them downstairs to the library, where a bomb would detonate. The entire mansion would feel the impact, and Vincenzo's emergency precautions would snap in place. He'd advised me about it all before, but my mind was a fog of too many overpowering memories.
Amid alarm, I might have a better chance of intercepting Emma and Damon. As long as they were out of harm's way, Cole would lose his tools for success.
I didn't know how to proceed. If the plan worked, I'd become a killer. I'd be labelling myself an awful person, even worse than my father.
What was morally right in my situation?
For Damon and Emma's safety, a stranger must die.
A stranger must die.
It became a chant in my head as I searched around the area. My eyes darted from one place to another—a woman on her phone, a man dozing off while on his feet. My feet moved mechanically without a sense of direction despite the agony.
A stranger must die.
A stranger must die.
A stranger—
I almost tripped over myself in terror. My skin turned frosty like I'd entered a portal into a terrible blizzard. My spirit was ripped from the very depth of my soul, and a dreadful sense of foreboding told me that my conscious would leave as well.
I blinked a few times more to register the sight. I couldn't believe it. I didn't know if I wanted to.
I'd found myself outside the library entrance. Within, my father was bound to the couch with a myriad of ropes. There were dead knots at his wrists, his knees, his neck.
The gasp that escaped my lips echoed loud enough to disrupt his shallow state of sleep.
The creature from my nightmares was vulnerable and in a bloody mess. He appeared uncannily like my reflection in the past when his unbearable assault left blossoms of carmine, plum and coal on my skin.
Now, tied and with tear stains on his cheeks, he didn't look half as capable. I almost doubted he'd ever possessed the gall to hurt me.
Fear had invaded my being and ruled my emotions whenever his presence was near. Hell, the same had happened a few moments ago. I was frightened of his status and the pain he could inflict by taking advantage of it.
Oh, what a peculiar turn of events.
I had never once foreseen standing up to him, towering over him, and overpowering him. I had never imagined I could mean anything but a girl with his dead wife's features to him.
I never once assumed that I could be the path to his end.
And yet, it was happening. I had my head raised while his was bowed. I had a gun, and he was bound.
In the end, I managed not only to escape but also become the decider of his fate. His life was in my hands to sacrifice.
I knew very well that I was no better than him if I followed through with the plan. Perhaps I'd pity him, but I wouldn't regret it. Perhaps I'd be weighed down in the years to come, but I would move on eventually.
Like father, like daughter, right?
"Answer me this with truth, Father," I spoke. "You once told me that I am unworthy of life because I am weak, incapable of strength. Do you still stand by that?"
He opened his mouth to reply, but no sound emerged. For the sake of his pride, he couldn't deliver a response.
I began to untie the rope around his throat, and a hopeful glint in his eyes ignited a wave of energy. He began squirming, encouraging me to carry on. This oblivious man must think me foolish.
"Wait," my father rasped, finally talking, but I was no longer interested in his reply; we both were aware of the answer. "You can't let me go through the door. The people will kill me, Aria. They're obligated to."
It was just like him to assume and underestimate me. In his heart, he truly believed I was helping him escape despite all he'd done to me.
I didn't care to loosen the rope tying his hands but was generous enough to free his legs. He'd need them to descend the stairs in a moment. "I know an escape route," I told him. "Come."
I led him to a bookshelf and tilted a book: World of Weapons & Wonders. My father crept closer to the stairway leading down to a room crammed with traps that he wouldn't survive as long as he didn't find the switch to deactivate everything. "Crawl below the lasers, make it to the exit and run," I advised, allowing myself only a moment of hesitation before politely shoving him down.
He tripped. He caught his footing just as the doorway separating him and I began to close. He didn't make it back quick enough.
There was something I deliberately left out—he wouldn't be able to crawl below the lasers. Without deactivating them, the pressure plates will blow him to smithereens.
I waited a moment more for guilt to swallow me whole.
It didn't.
I turned and left. My father wouldn't live. There were cameras installed, and he'd realise that crossing the lasers was his only choice. Death would claim him soon.
I left the library, gradually making my way to Emma's room. There were people around, but they neither noticed me nor paid me any heed. They hadn't the slightest clue what I'd just done.
I was close to Emma's room when I paused, sceptical.
The bomb should have detonated by now. Why hadn't it gone off? Had my father found a method to surpass the traps? Was he wise enough?
A thick layer of worry triggered my anxiety to spike. Countless what-ifs filled my mind. I nearly turned towards the direction of my room for some time to develop a new plan when chaos dawned.
It began with a quiet buzz, a calm vibration before my bones were rattled from head to toe. I inhaled in surprise, but the sound was muted due to the dramatic reactions of everyone else. On the first level, the flooring cracked. I perceived it from where I stood on the upper level, and it was so violent that I could hear it.
It might have been all, but the detonation resulted in the blaring of alarms within the house. Some doors shut on their own accord, and the threat drew cowardice from Cole's workers. They resembled a flock of stampeding sheep as they rushed from wherever they were towards exits.
Finally, the various intimidating figures in charge of Emma and Damon fled. About a dozen fled selfishly to save their lives, and the rest ensured their prisoners remained prisoners.
They were nimble as they rushed to the first level, and I could barely catch up. The pain in my legs had been excruciating for too long, and I was certain they would fail me.
As a last-minute resort, I fired a random bullet to inspire more alarm before intercepting the two in peril.
"Holy crap," Emma muttered when she spotted me. She couldn't get another word out before I gave her a gentle nudge towards the back of the mansion. There were multiple exits, but almost all of Cole's people aimed to escape through the large front door.
Damon's eyes were wide. "Aria, are you ok—"
"Go," I hissed. "No time."
They scrambled away, but not before a group of anxious individuals noticed them. Terror stole their countenance.
"They're getting away!" screamed someone to my left.
My heart was sprinting at an unhealthy rate. My legs couldn't move. I was paralysed, too exhausted, and stars momentarily blurred my vision. I attempted to blink them away. I think I was trembling all over. Dizziness engulfed me.
Gunshot fired. Smoking holes appeared on the wall, narrowly missing Emma. A sole man chose to pursue the escaping pair, and I used my last shred of energy to raise my arm.
I was slow.
I was shaking too much.
My knees were giving out.
I forced my finger to press the trigger.
That was the last bullet that remained in my gun, and I didn't manage to see where it landed before I collapsed. I was heaving, temple aching, body barely functioning.
I felt my finger brush a corpse beside me before nothingness devoured me.