Page 55 of The Wicked

I plunged the knife right into the base of his throat with a yell. His eyes widened in shock as his blood pumped out, spraying and pouring on my chin and chest. I gritted and groaned, twisting the knife as I pushed him off me, straddling his waist and looking him dead in the eye: “Told you what would happen the next time you called me that, you fucking motherfucker.” His eyes were wide in death as he choked on the gurgle of his blood, his bloodied tongue sticking out.

I twisted the knife again, bringing my face near his. “Rot in hell knowing a fuckingPlantended your miserable life, you fucking piece of shit,” I spat, watching his life slip out of him, his legs weakly kicking out behind me, until his struggle slowly stopped, and his chest stopped moving.

I stayed like that for about a minute, breathing heavily before I pulled out the knife, heaving a sharp breath as I let go of the weapon, throwing my head back, and closing my eyes tightly. “Shit,” I hissed, looking down at the mess I made. “Fucking hell, Zahra.”

Quickly, I got off him, paced for a few seconds as my brain worked a mile a minute before I rushed to the bathroom and washed away as much blood as I could. I ran back into the room, picked up my bra and dress, and slipped them back on.

The door burst open brutally, and I gasped, turning to seea fast-breathing Devil. “Zah—” He stopped short as his gaze shifted to Dion’s body on the bed.

His wide eyes shifted to me and then to Dion. He rushed into the room, and before he shut the door, I spotted unconscious bodies on the ground.

“What the fuck happened?” he whispered in a yell, raking both hands through his hair. “How the—why the—”

My body shook, and I hugged myself. “He tried to hurt me. I—I was trying to defend myself, and I—I don’t know what happened—I was—I was high—I wasn’t thinking—I didn’t know—”

“Hey, hey.” Devil rushed to me, wrapping his hands around my body, and placing a kiss to my hair. “I’m sorry, it’s okay; I’m glad you’re okay. Fast thinking is always important,” he assured, breaking away from me. “Are you hurt anywhere?” he asked, his eyes roaming all over me as I frantically shook my head.

“No, no, I’m not.”

“Good, good,” he said, before rushing to Dion’s body and picking up the knife from beside him. “We gotta get outta here,” he said as he rushed towards me, grabbing my wrist. “Come on.”

Before we left, I picked up my wig and my ruined comm device from the ground and glanced at Dion’s lifeless body.

My lips curved to the side.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Zahra

One more, just one more act, and I could carry on with my day and self-reflect on my actions. No matter how many times I’d done it, there was still that hollow feeling that came after taking a life—the feeling of emptiness and wrongness.

They were terrible men; they deserved it because they hurt a lot of people. But who was I to pass judgment? There was no way to regain the little pieces of myself and the conscience that I lost after I ended a life.

The only thing keeping my head in check was the awareness of right, wrong, necessity, and the limit to how far I took my revenge.

Manuel would say there was a lever in every human, one you should always pull when you feel like you’re drowning in the emotion that comes with getting justice for the wrongs committed against you. If you didn’t pull the lever, you’d sooner forget where it was in your mind, and you’d be no different from the people you wanted dead.

I tried not to forget that. Each time I took a life, I’d take a moment to myself and pull back from that dark place.

The two soldiers that had been ordered to bring me to the poolside maintained their distance after I’d urged them to touch me and see what happened. I already knew it was a matter of time before the boss himself asked for me.

I hardened the frown on my face as we reached the poolside, ignoring the dull ache at the side of my head as my gaze shifted to Elio, who stood at the foot of the pool, both hands tuckedinto his pants, his suit and tie nowhere in sight. And, as always, he looked like someone dressed for a funeral.

I sighed, walking towards him, wishing I had changed into something else. This dress had overstayed its welcome.

He didn’t look away from the pool as I stood beside him. “Thinking of taking a dip?” I asked. “Because I could totally sleep off tonight’s chaos and leave you to it.”

He didn’t respond.

The silence toyed with my head, and I shifted from one foot to another, the cold outside sending chills down my spine.

“I can’t remember the last time I swam,” he said, still looking at the large pool, voice raspy. “It’s been… years. I think I was still a teenager then.” He breathed in deeply, and then out. “I feel this little twinge of fear whenever I see this pool. But for some reason, I can’t stay away.”

I looked at the pool and then at him. “I really don’t give a fuck about anything you’ve just said.”

He turned his head in my direction and then looked away. After a few seconds, a frown caused a slight pinch to his brows, and he looked back at me again, eyes scanning me from head to toe. “What in the world are you wearing?”

I looked down at myself with a frown and then met his gaze blankly. “Do you not recognize it because it’s in a different color? It’s a dress, Elio. Like… a cloth? People wear clothes to cover their nakedness? Cause it’s… clothes?”