Heartless (Enemies to Lovers 1)

“I need my right hand free,” he whispers darkly. My eyes dart to his face and I’m filled with horror all over again. This man is easily the scariest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.

Every line on his face is pronounced as he pulls a gun from behind his back. I didn’t even see it where it was tucked into the back of his pants. My throat and mouth dry right up and I can’t swallow the thick spit that’s coating the inside of my mouth. He nudges me a little, until I’m right behind him, and then I remember what he said - I have to stay behind him.

I cling to his hand and arm with both my hands. We walk towards a simple looking house. Heat flares up behind me and I glance over my shoulder. The old man has set a shipping container alight.

Then reality dawns on me. I was held in a shipping container. How easy it would’ve been to dispose of my body.

Fuckers!

“We’re going to walk in. We’re going to kill them and we’re going to leave. You do not touch anything. We don’t leave any traces that can lead back to us.” The man is so focused I can feel the intensity of the moment rippling off him in waves.

“We?” The word pops from my mouth.

“Glad to see you’re still thinking straight enough to hear what I’m sa

ying,” he says gruffly. The corner of his mouth twitches. “No screaming and no fainting. Oh, and definitely no puking.”

I take a step back from him, humiliated that he can smell the nauseating smell of vomit on me.

He moves first and I only move so I can keep up with him. We don’t run. Everything inside of me is screaming at me to make a run for it, but I stay behind him like a pathetic puppet trailing after her master.

He tightens his grip on my hand when we near the house and I see a muscle jumping in his jaw, which only makes me more nervous.

As we climb the four stairs to the porch, my vision tunnels on the front door.

Why the fuck aren’t I running in the opposite direction?

Why am I just letting him pull me along?

I should be fighting, kicking and screaming!

My mind races from absolute panic to that void filled with emptiness.

I see him lift his arm but nothing can prepare me for the loud bang as he shoots a hole where the lock is. The front door shudders, squeaking at the hinges. And then it all happens in flashes.

Flashes and loud bangs.

Screams and blood.

Men lunge for Predator, but he lets go of my hand, moving fast and with precision, as if he’s done this a million times.

All I can do is stand rooted, my eyes wide with shock and my heart racing like a wild horse trapped in a burning barn.

The world slows down around me yet everything races inside of me.

Every shot he takes hits a target, red blossoms, exactly like you’d see in the movies. Only this isn’t a movie. These are real bodies dropping to the ground, real blood, real screams of terror and for a change I’m not the one screaming.

“Stay there,” he growls. I stand frozen as I watch him shove open a heavy looking door to my right. I hear cursing. “Fuck!” someone yells and then there are more shots.

Any normal person would run screaming from this nightmare, but I stand frozen as I watch them die. I imagined a lot of ways for them all to die, but not this, not such easy deaths. I wish they were burning, just like the container outside.

Predator comes back into the living room. His face looks grim, his eyes constantly searching for a target.

He looks like a predator. Now I understand his name.

His eyes settle on me, and just a look from him makes my heart leap to my throat. He lifts the gun a few inches higher and it points directly at my head. The second it takes for his finger to squeeze the trigger, I look into his eyes. They are cold and calculating. There are no emotions, only a loud bang, louder than all the others and I can’t make myself duck for cover. I don’t even flinch as I feel a slight burn on my cheek, and then I hear something heavy drop behind me. I exhale a trembling breath as terror makes my blood race hot through my veins.

Shit, he could’ve shot me! I can’t even bring myself to curse him.