Just read a manga called Dead Tube. Don't read it if you aren't into seriously fucked up shit.
"Leave."
All Frederick's lackeys left the room like cowardly dogs with guns, keeping their eyes averted as Snow stood in the middle of the room with him, stripped of most of her guns, but not her knives. Frederick knew she still had weapons, so he stood a bit back from her, gaze narrowed in mock seriousness.
"I expected this. You, turning against me."
Snow's face didn't move an inch. "I was never with you."
Frederick laughed, hooking his thumbs into his pockets as he watched Snow with something she had noticed before. Something that made her skin crawl, her gut churn and tongue go dry. It was...bad.
"That may be true, but I've always been with you, Snow." He smiled darkly, sitting down on a chair and looking her up and down in a way that spoke more than anyone could ever say. The way her mother used to look at her.
She kept her hands by her sides, knowing if she moved them he would strike.
"I've always wanted a wife you know? I've always wanted a lovey-dovey relationship where she cooks when I get home, carries our child on her hip, sees only me and listens to only me." He shrugged a shoulder, pulling a knife out of his pocket nonchalantly. He spun it deftly around his fingers, so expertly it was almost like art.
"But after my first wife...then my second...even my third didn't work out." Snow's tongue went dry, knowing just how he would have disposed of them.He sighed, finally leveling his gaze with her as he stabbed the knife into his armrest. "None of them were right. Too maleable, too emotional, or their beauty would wear out."
He stood, walking over to her and hovering a hand over her cheek. "But you, you're perfect. Beautiful, deadly and built with enough fire that I will have a long, enjoyable time stomping it out."
His lips curled into a frown. "I've always wanted you. Especially since you're young enough to...last."
Snow's fist slammed into his face faster than she could even think. Bones crunched and Frederick gripped his nose, a bloody smile lifting his mouth.
"There she is."
Snow spat at his feet, curling her fists closer to her fists. "What makes you think I'll just fall into your hands?" Everyone who knew her, knew she would never submit so easily- submit to anyone who professed a higher way of living.
Frederick laughed, knowing lighting a fire behind his eyes. He wiped his mouth, tongue licking away any of the leftover blood. "I've got your man."
Snow raised a brow. "Brutus? And?" Brutus would live. He was that type of man. Someone who could rebuild everything he may have lost, or simply take it back later.
He scoffed, then clapped his hands. Masked men poured into the room, dragging a body with a sack over his head. Snow's heart fell in her chest, her inhale a prayer to whatever God existed. The closest man ripped the sack off the man's head, and Snow's scream was one of complete and utter heart break.
"MAVON!"
Something tore in her chest as she stared down at her limp best friend, fists tightening as she saw the damage done to his face and body. Snow didn't even know if he was still breathing. Her beautiful friend was a pile of purple flesh on the floor.
"You killed him."
It wasn't a question. She snapped her glare to Frederick, tamping down on the endless pain that ran through her and creating a wall, a dam, to the currents of emotion. She had to focus, staple down the feelings and stare at Frederick with the anger that had fueled her for so long.
5 more minutes.
"I may have, I may not have. He just kept talking. He should learn more from his brother, learn how to suffer in silence."
Snow turned her attention back to the men surrounding them in the room, flicking her gaze down to her broken friend. She had to think on her feet, especially since Frederick was watching her every movement.
4 minutes.
"I'm not going to degrade you by saying there is no escape, you would never leave without the body of that boy on the floor. However, I am going to say that there is no escape for you and that boy. There will never be any way for you to leave this home, leave my side or leave me ever again."
Snow knelt down next to her friend, stroking a hand down his cold face, past his neck, and onto his chest, gently splaying her fingers there. He was so cold, like an icicle to touch.
3 minutes.
"You killed the only person who saw me, Landon. The only person who connected, freed and understood me." Snow murmured, running her fingers through Mavon's inky black hair, matted with blood.
"And because you did that...I will never stop fighting you." Her voice was a void, powerful and dark, sucking any life she may have had out of her.
Frederick shrugged a shoulder, pulling the knife out of the chair. "I've always loved extinguishing fire."
2 Minutes.
That was the thing. People had always considered Snow to be made of fire. Her anger a fuel to the flames that flared in her personality, burned through her actions and lit her words until they charred the person she spoke to.
No, Snow was not fire.
Snow was everything that was obvious for her to be.
1 Minute.
Snow was snow. A mass, a descent of cold that affected everyone in a distinct way.
Snow was ice. Precision, beauty, and deadliness frozen into one thing, one person.
But most of all, Snow was a glacier. Immovable, steady and with such a presence that she could withstand time, tribulation and trial.
No matter how heavy and how large the tests were.
And as Dominic, Cohen, Tanner, Felix and Abel ripped off their masks, pulling their guns out with the swiftness of years of practice, Snow slid a dagger out of her sleeve and leveled it at Landon as all the rest of his comrades were shot down.
There was only one word on her mind.
"Die."
And she threw the knife, watching as it spun through the air, and watching as Frederick's face slowly turned to shock. It embedded itself in his neck, blood spurting out of the wound as he gurgled on red, falling to the ground amidst the chorus of gunshots.
But there was no gratification within her, no happiness as she watched him choke to death. So she moved her eyes to the boy beneath her, pulse still barely a flutter from when she touched his neck before, and she picked him up, leaving the room.
Frederick was dead.
But it had come at a great cost. And when she thought the pain would overwhelm her, when it would swamp her with its heaviness, a voice called out to her that made her tears run freely. She hugged Mavon closer before relinquishing him to a familiar doctor, then looked over to the voice, feeling her heart beat again for the first time.
"Papa."
Umm, Here ya go. Hope you like.