Mafia King’s Stubborn Slave

ination remained unyielding. I'm pretty certain he's aware of my

d the golden lock of my door, allowing me to open it without making a sound. Marcel's voice reached me, instructing, "Shut it; Sandra is upstairs."

lination to disobey Marcel's orders. I traced my fingers along the painted wall, the da

ked with profane words in Caps "DIRTY BITCH!". It clung to me as I stealthily

inking down the wall and peeking through the cracks in the wood beams

in my throat

t seeing it would only do half the justice because I could hear every w

voice that sounded almost inhuman. It was deep and masculine, and it sou

owled. He stood in front of someone—I could

laugh. An evil, indescribable monstrous laugh. The kind tha

ain. "You won't get a chance to do it again." The man deadpanned. I was confused

, his body hitting the ground with a thump that made m

y is sliding down one of the vertical poles of the railin

body on my floor—my brothe

w me down the stairs. My back and arms hit the pointed steps as I eventually landed

s he thought himself a god as I lay under him, like

nd if I didn't know better, I would have thought he was the devil himself. He

me pleaded with me to get away from his sickening gaze. But

ed him. Killed him like his life

black. They looked void of emotion, void of life. His eyes looked like

, and anyone could tel

ess, my body feeling like if I even tried t

myself look away. This wasn't cat and mouse; this was hun

He whispered to me as he moved the gun

et, refusing to answer, even though a

m—I wouldn't doubt he

I failed to respond, he kicked me in the stoma

me, and I closed my eyes. Never before felt so read

ss condolences and lament the tragedy. It would be a gathering of insincere individuals from my life who only pretende

attired in a suit with a stain of blood on its white shirt

ad rested on the frigid floor, and my vision of him swirled into a

th the rest o