Chapter 8 – Val
She had the kind of fire that burned so bright I couldn’t help but be intrigued by her. She had guts and spunk enough to catch my attention and leave me amused. No woman had stood up to me the way that she did, despite knowing I could end her life at any given time.
I realized just by observing her that bravery wasn’t the absence of fear. No. It was feeling helpless and afraid but choosing to stand strong regardless. That was what my little shutterbug had done every single day since she was brought here.
Honestly, I should be pissed. I should put her in her place, but her courage, aura, and spunk were too powerful to ignore. She was different, and that difference was the reason she was still breathing.
Was I merciful to her because she was a woman? Perhaps. Because if the tables were turned, and she happened to be a man, he’d have already been dog food long before now. I’d killed more men for far lesser crimes than speaking to me out of tone.
Yet, I let her vent. I let her express her fury and frustration. Luka couldn’t understand why I was so delicate with the prisoner all the time. He believed the shutterbug should be taught a lesson so she’d learn to bridle her sharp tongue next time.
Well, he was just pissed at the way she spoke to me—fearless and arrogant.
He wasn’t used to disrespectful women, and ever since their first banter a few days ago, he’d been gunning for her, waiting for when she’d cross the line.
He already told me that he’d like to be the one to punish her whenever I was ready to give the order.
He wasn’t the only one who felt that way about Wren; more than a few of my men didn’t like her either. And that was because she wasn’t the type to be bullied—she didn’t scare easily. Or at least, that was what they believed.
They called her “The Troublemaker.”
And honestly, her ability to make a name for herself in such a short period of time was really fascinating.
She’d somehow managed to piss off every single one of the men; she’d crawled under their skin like a tick they couldn’t get off.
Everyone was mad at her, but none could touch her.
Not just because I forbade it, but because the little shutterbug would fight back like her life depended on it.
The more I studied her behavior, the more I realized there was a lot more to this photojournalism student than met the eye.
Despite her hot head and hostility toward me and my men, she had a compassionate side, one I saw in how she addressed the maids.
Clearly, her beef was with me and my foot soldiers; outside of that, she was just a regular girl in desperate need to return to her former life.
It was quite unfortunate that I couldn’t let her go yet. And although she believed I was keeping her here against her will simply because I was some monster from the pit of hell, that wasn’t entirely true.
Wren was in more danger than she thought. The moment she uploaded that photo and put a target on my back, she exposed herself to threats from any mindless motherfucker in my world. That photo had sparked mixed reactions amongst my enemies.
As stupid as it might seem, there were idiots out there who would come after her, thinking she was somehow in cahoots with me. According to Luka, three guys had been spotted snooping around her apartment, asking questions about her, these past few days.
He did his digging, and the men weren’t in any way related to her. In fact, they were all members of different gangs.
Wren didn’t know this, but she was safer here with me than she was outside these walls. She created this mess for both of us, endangered my reputation, and put her own life at risk.
While she was ranting and bitching about how she hated it here and wanted to get back to her old life, I was busy trying to keep her alive.
Yet to her, I was the bad guy—I was the devil incarnate.
With everything that was happening right now, she wouldn’t survive a day without my protection. But she didn’t know this; that was why she wouldn’t stop running her mouth.
I could spell out the gravity of her situation, show her just how screwed her life was—just to watch the light drain from her eyes and revel in the silence when fear finally shut her the fuck up.
However, I wasn’t going to do that—for one simple reason. I enjoyed watching her rant. She was pretty but even prettier when pissed. Each time she lost her temper, her eyes would light up in a way that left me speechless.
It was interesting how someone as little as she was could have so much fire and spunk. That character was what drew me in like a moth to a flame. Let that fire keep burning, let her hatred for me grow stronger each day. None of that mattered to me—only her safety.
Why?
I wasn’t sure yet. All I knew was that I wouldn’t let any harm come to her. Gradually, I was starting to regard her as someone much more than just my prisoner. Maybe that was because deep down, I knew she ceased being my prisoner the second I realized she wasn’t what I thought she was, a spy.
My first instinct was to keep her safe, even if it meant her hating my guts. She wouldn’t be the first anyway, nor would she be the last.
I was seated in my study that cool evening, reviewing some files from last week. Reclined in my chair, I sipped the scotch in my hand, my eyes fixed on the laptop’s lit screen. The room was dimly lit, the scent of alcohol and aged paper wafting through the air.
My gaze flicked to the CCTV live footage playing on a TV hung on the wall beside the bookshelf. Something caught my attention, forcing me to take a closer look. And that’s when I saw it—the glitch.
Weird. That had never happened before. And although I thought that it was just a system glitch at first, I couldn’t help but shake the feeling that something was wrong.
I’d been in the game long enough to trust my instincts, and right now, my instincts were telling me that trouble had come knocking on my door.
Before I could even make a move, the power went out, plunging the whole mansion into utter darkness. I loved the dark—I thrived in it—but this was clearly an invasion. I was already on my feet when Luka barged into the study.
“Boss,” he called, his voice laced with urgency. “We might be under attack.”
Just then, rapid gunfire echoed in the hallway, loud and deafening.
“Shit,” Luka muttered, turning back with his guns drawn.
I pulled the drawer of my table, picked up my pistol, and headed out with only one person in mind. Wren.
“Boss, you should stay back, let the men handle this,” Luka said to me.
I ignored and stepped out into the hallway. Two of my men were already gunned down, blood pooling beneath them. My eyes narrowed, rage coiling in my chest. Someone had the effrontery to invade my house and kill my men. Some balls they had.
An armed assailant wearing a hockey mask rounded a corner. Unfortunately, I sighted him first and fired twice, one bullet to his knee, the other to his head.
“Sweep the house. Find out how many assassins were sent,” I ordered Luka, my voice calm even in the storm. “Take the workers to safety—women first. No casualties.”
“Got it.” He nodded. “And the shutterbug?”
I turned in the direction of her room. “Leave her to me.”
More gunshots echoed throughout the mansion, accompanied by screams and wails.
He was already in motion when I called out, “And Luka….”
He stopped in his tracks, listening.
“Kill them all.”
I couldn’t see his face, but I was certain he’d smirk at the sound of that. Killing the enemy was his favorite thing to do.
I moved through the darkness like a predator, familiar with every corner of the building. Those fuckers never should’ve invaded; that was a stupid move, and it would cost them dearly.
Behind me, I heard footsteps pounding heavily, and then with an instinctive move, I tilted my head to the side. That was how I dodged a bullet. Literally. I swiveled, squeezing three rounds, one for each assailant behind me.
I didn’t realize another was coming at me from the other side. By the time I turned, the man had already kicked my gun out of my hand. He threw himself into the air, his foot connecting with my chest seconds later.
I slipped and fell backward, but was quick to sweep his feet off the floor.
Like soldiers on a battlefield, we sprang to our feet, throwing kicks and punches.
He was bigger than me—almost twice my size—but I was faster and smart enough to know that one punch from him could disorient me or worse, knock me out.
So, while he was busy throwing all those blows and kicks, I was calculating his moves. I dodged all his advances, deflecting as many as I could until finally I trapped his arm in mine. With one twist, I snapped it with a sickening crack.
He threw his head backward, groaning like a wounded animal. With his free hand, he unsheathed a blade. I was quick to step aside, but not until after he cut through my arm.
There was no time to wince at my pain; this motherfucker was still coming at me with only one hand. He must have been right-handed, considering that he couldn’t successfully land a single strike with his left hand.
This was my window. And I took it.
He threw a reckless swing. I ducked, retaliating with my knee to his ribcage.
Hard and crashing. He bellowed, forced to drop the knife, his face contorted in pain.
I bent over, wrapped my arms around his legs, and lifted him with one single sweep.
His arms flailed in the air, and then a second later, I threw him backward, making sure he landed on his neck.
Crack.
His dead body lay sprawled on the floor, eyes wide open. I towered over him, breathing heavily. An alarm went off in my head, and without hesitation, I ducked, rolled over the floor, and lifted his body above me.
The guy at the end of the hallway fired his gun, but the dead man’s body absorbed all the shots. Strategically, I snatched the discarded blade off the floor and hurled it at my attacker.
The shooting stopped. And the gun fell from his hand. He dropped to his knees with the knife buried in his left eye, blood rushing down his cheeks. His limp body thudded to the floor.
I heard her scream from her room, and my pulse spiked. “Wren,” I whispered, rising to my feet. I picked up my gun and raced toward her bedroom, my footsteps pounding against the floor.
The door to her room was already yanked wide open by the time I arrived. I hoped I wasn’t too late until I saw the masked man standing in front of her bed with his rifle aimed at her.
She was seated on the mattress with her back against the headboard, the sheets clutched in her tight grip. Death looked her straight in the face, and she was terrified. Her eyes were wide with fear, her lips quivering as though she was muttering a prayer.
Not today. Not on my watch.
I fired four times, four precise shots that buried four bullets in his temple.
She screamed, her body stiffening at the sound of the gunshots.
The intruder fell over the couch, and it flipped over his dead body. I barged into the room, eyes scanning for any potential threats, but it appeared he was the only one who made it in here.
Wren hugged a pillow with tightly shut eyes as she shook like a leaf. I walked up to the bed, my shoes scuffing against the floor, my gaze pinned on her.
“Are you okay?” I asked, calm and gentle.
She opened her eyes, her breath jagged and uneven, lips still quivering from the fear coursing through her.
“Are you hurt?”
She hesitated, then shook her head.
“Good.”
Her eyes darted to the dead guy behind me, her palm resting on her chest as if to stop her heart from jumping out.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I reached for it without taking my eyes off her. “Yes?”
“It’s done, Boss,” Luka said on the other line. “They’re all dead.”
My eyes narrowed. A part of me was glad it was over; however, I couldn’t help but wonder who the hell was behind this attack. Perhaps if we’d kept one of the assassins alive, we’d have gotten some answers. Like how the fuck they got past security.
I lowered the phone, burying it back in my pocket.
Wren’s eyes shifted to my bleeding arm, and although her mouth was shaped like she was about to say something about it, she didn’t.
“I’ll send someone to clean this up,” I said, referring to the mess and the dead body in her room.
Quietly, I headed out, knowing that she was safe and out of harm’s way. I was almost at the door when she spoke.
“Who was that guy?” she asked, her voice shaking under the weight of her fear.
That was the million-dollar question that I had no answer to at the moment. Without a word, I walked out of the room, wondering the same thing.