36. Little Killer
36
Little Killer
W hat does he mean? Has he told me? I woke up when a loud knock on the door jumped me out of my sleep. I stayed back since Ghost walked out of the bathroom with his face covered in shaving cream. Damn, I am going to miss that beard of his. But I must admit he is sexy either way. Okay, whatever about that. Something is going on, and I can’t help but feel like I am about to step foot back in hell’s gates.
That voice sounds all too familiar. It is the voice that spoke to me when I was in the transit of my own personal hell. It is him. He is the one who coached me and practically begged me to fight. He sounded like he knew me. What do these people know about me exactly? Ghost greeted him when he walked in, and now I can finally put a name to the voice of the man who comforted me. Raph, I am sure that it is short for Raphael or something.
Why were they whispering? More importantly, what should Ghost tell me that he hasn’t already? Why are there so many damn secrets?
Raph leaves, the door slamming closed behind him and sounding heavy. Ghost is standing there, one hand rubbing the back of his head, and the other is gnawed on in his mouth.
I quietly make my way to the kitchen, feeling the cold tiles beneath my bare feet, sending a slight shiver up my spine. The oversize T-shirt I’m wearing hangs loosely on me; its fabric is soft but unfamiliar, as it’s not even mine. I stretch one hand out over my head, trying to steady myself as I make my way into the kitchen.
With the other hand, I rub my eyes, attempting to make it seem like I am just shaking off the remnants of sleep that may cling to me. A deep yawn escapes my lips, echoing softly in the stillness of the morning, a sound that signals the transition from dreams to reality. The world around me feels quiet, and I can almost hear the gentle hum of the refrigerator as I step into the kitchen, ready to embrace the day ahead.
“Good morning,” I say in a voice forced to sound half asleep.
“Ah, Little Killer, you’re awake. How are you feeling?”
I am at a loss for words. I don’t know how to answer that. I don’t know what to say so he doesn’t figure out that I was listening the whole time.
“Buenos dias” Is all that comes out—smooth, real smooth T.
“How did you sleep?”
“I don’t think that I have ever felt this rested in my life.” It’s not a lie. When I am here with him, I feel untouchable. Like no one would dare step foot into his territory because he would kill them instantly. I feel safe and wanted. Two things I have asked for my whole life, also two things that I am unfamiliar with and don’t really know how to respond to it. I fear that at any moment, it could be ripped away from me.
“I am glad you slept well, Little Killer. I have some things to discuss with you after you have coffee and eat something.”
Shit. He really meant it when he told Raph that he would tell me soon. I can’t help but wonder what trouble is about to be uncovered.
My coffee brews as I eat a strawberry banana yogurt pack. I hurry, guzzling it down and throwing whatever sweetener I find into my coffee. I take a seat right next to Ghost. He watches my every move like I am some sort of Goddess to him. His eyes smile, but his lips stay flat.
“So, what is on the agenda today?” I ask as if I am unbothered, but my fingers tighten around my coffee mug, betraying my nerves.
Ghost tilts his head, amused by my attempt at nonchalance. He taps his fingers against the table, slow and deliberate, before finally answering.
“Today, we talk about trust.” His voice is calm, but there’s an edge to it that makes my stomach twist.
“Trust?” I echo, taking a sip of my coffee. The bitterness settles me, but only slightly.
Ghost nods. “Yeah, Little Killer. Trust. Because I need to know if I can count on you when it really matters.”
I swallow hard, setting my mug down. “I thought we were past that.”
His chuckle is low, dark. “See, that’s the thing. You think we are, but I still haven’t told you everything. And once I do, there’s no going back.”
My pulse quickens. “So tell me.”
Ghost leans in, his breath warm against my skin. “Finish your coffee first. Then I’ll tell you precisely what you want to know. Baby steps, Little Killer. Baby steps. "
I really fuckin’ hate that he acts like he is above me. If anything, I see us as equals. I mean, yeah, he has a dick, and I don’t. But I am talking about levels of respect. Don’t play with me. I am literally mentally fuckin’ ill.