Chapter 3: 02| Kiss of Death
Aᴘʀɪʟ 11, 2019.
Alessia is sitting along the corridor of the second floor, when the front door bursts from its hinges. She flinches, immediately going flat, while Anissa, who's in the kitchen, jumps and screams. Her outburst catches the attention of all the men filing into the house and they walk by the stairs coolly, heading for the woman, like they didn't just kick down a door.
The man of the pack falls into a relaxed stance, eying Anissa from head to toe. She only wears pajama shorts that barely covers her ass, plus a frilly end, summer-sleeved top. Sebastian licks his lips subconsciously.
He says, glancing at his Rolex watch, "It's twelve o'clock, declaring the end of the fifth day. Where's my money?" During that line, he must've drawn closer to her, because Anissa is trapped against the counter and realising this, she gulps, swallowing a bile that rises in her throat. "Where is it woman?!" He bites out, Hispanic accent coming out edgier. Her silence is provoking.
"I don't know!" She shouts shakily all of a sudden, lips wobbling, "I d-don't have it. I thought you were joking, s-since you tapped my ass on my way out."
His eyes fall from hers to her lips, then back up. You'll never get it, but he loves her; he's too blinded by the power he has over people to acknowledge "weird" feelings, though they are obvious by the way he looks at her. The rest of the squad that tags around him, which is only a small portion of his gang, are all too airheaded to know what the eyes of a person say. Sebastian steps impossibly close to Anissa, her back presses into the cold edge of the counter painfully.
He grunts, "I tapped your ass because it's fine, but I was completely serious. You know I'm always serious, don't bullshit me."
Her eyes are jittery. She's definitely scared for her life. The look in his eyes are feral as usual and, with all the men in the kitchen, there is no escape.
"I take it that you really are a broke bitch that was sleazing off my cash." He states quietly, which causes her to jump, speaking up, but she shakes with nervousness, fumbling over her words.
"I—that's—you're wrong! A lie! That's a lie...I love you—I fucking lo–"
"Shh," he quickly places a finger to her trembling lips, then he tuts, "I'll never understand what that is." Sebastian slinks closer to her face. His tall frame hovers over hers. "But, let me tell you something I like about you, after all those dislikes I spewed before." He begins by skimming a hand over the flesh of her side, beneath her shirt, thumb brushing the side of her breast. "I like your body, how you react to my touch. Trust me, you're a good fuck, even with that fat ass. Everything is physical, you know I don't feel things, amor, why do you do this to yourself?"
A shiver runs down her spine at his dirty talk and the air-like feeling of his fingers. At the same time, she questions her own heart. Why him? It's too late anyway. She's going to die. He's going to kill her.
"I also, very much, like the taste of your lips." he adds softly, before he dips and kisses her; left hand entwining with her hair to keep her head in place.
She kisses him back, feverishly too, grasping the crisp collar of his shirt.
It's expected when she feels the cold barrel of his gun digging into her temple. She draws a shaky heart on his chest, with her index finger.
The gun cocks and the trigger is pulled.
Have you ever cut yourself somehow and you don't notice until you do something to hurt it? He broke his own heart, but is yet to take note of it.
Weekly Power Status
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