Chapter 4 Scarlett #2
I frowned, turning back to the woman as I walked around her, eyes locked on those X’s above hers. She was obviously here for a reason. Why couldn’t I try helping them?
I stopped and stared at the door for a moment before turning back to her and placing a finger gun right against her forehead.
Her whimpering became louder. “Please, please, please,” she said over and over again.
Begging? We didn’t accept begging in our home.
I pushed my finger into her head, watching her shake, hearing the shackles ring as they moved.
Azrael never used a gun, but his brothers loved them.
They used them for everything, and I had read about the aftermath.
There were no pictures in the reports Azrael had given me, but they were descriptive.
If I shot her this close with a gun, her brain and the back of her skull would explode out of her, covering the back wall in spray.
It would be messy and loud, even with a silencer, there was always a little sound. I’d much rather use a blade than a gun.
I lowered my hand and turned for the doorway, leaving her begging behind me. I took a right and headed back to the hall I had just left, peering into every door until I found the one Alaric was in.
I stepped inside, hands folded behind me. There was no need to sign here. Alaric and I, much like Azrael and I, had an understanding between us. Our words didn’t need to be seen or said in order to be heard.
I liked learning from them. From all of them. They were chaotic, like me, in their minds, but on the outside, it was like nothing could rattle any of them. They watched on in silence until the other person broke, it was something I was trying to mirror.
Azrael said I had a knack for it. I was born with an expressionless face, only showing the emotions I wanted to show. He said that’s not something most people are born with.
If they can’t read your face, your body, then you already have the upper hand.
In cases like this, however, when I was learning to fight, my trainers, the men whose expressions never changed, it was difficult for me to get the upper hand, but that was the point, Azrael had said. If I could learn how to fight them, I could never be stopped.
That’s what I wanted. I wanted to be the one they could never stop. I wanted to kill them all for what they had done to me, for what they had done to Olivia and Rae and Emily. I wanted to kill them for hurting my family.
I cocked my head to the side, studying Alaric. I liked having fun though. Sometimes, I found I couldn’t help my smile.
Alaric lifted his hand, and I watched as the one silver throwing knife he was holding turned into three.
I straightened. What shall I do today? Defensive or evasive?
He lifted his other hand and pressed a button on a small remote.
I didn’t have to look behind me to know that the door was sliding shut. Azrael said all these doors had fingerprint scanners, keys, and remotes, and while some of them I could open myself, others I couldn’t. I suspected that this was one of those doors I didn’t have access to.
Escape it was then.
He dropped the remote and threw all three knives at me.
Using what Azrael had taught me in the first week, it was easy to evade them. It was like dancing, and I found that I very much loved to dance.
I glanced back at the knives, seeing that they were all embedded into the wall now.
Interesting. I wondered what those were made of to go into concrete.
Unless…
I turned to the wall closest to me and touched it gently with my fingers. Painted to look like concrete. Very believable. I couldn’t help but wonder what the benefit of it was.
I heard the woosh of air, my body reacting before my mind had even caught up with it.
I leaned back, narrowly avoiding one and kicked myself back, flipping feet over head, to avoid another. I had to be quick, that was important. Quick and concise. When fighting with Azrael, he was like a snake, everything was smooth, as if his body turned into a liquid.
It has taken a lot of dedication, but I’d like to believe I was getting there.
Dancing, Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, Judo, and Wushu. Those are what he has focused on the last month, but soon, he would finally teach me how to use a weapon.
I was very excited. I hoped it matched his.
He tracked me with ease, his eyes hard and challenging.
He was preparing to attack me, but I hadn’t even gone for the remote yet. Azrael must have told him to do whatever it took to keep me away from it. A real challenge to test my skills.
The only problem with that is that I knew the Blackheart brothers now. Not intimately, but enough to know that they held no mercy. Azrael told him to keep me away, so he would keep me away, even if that meant me dead on the ground.
“How fun!”
I was giddy with excitement, but I showed not a drop. The only thing left to do now was play.
I stepped back against the wall and grabbed one of the throwing knives, my smile wide. I let my hands fall loosely to my sides, waited to a count of four, and finally sprinted at him.
He didn’t even blink, his eyes locked onto mine, waiting for me to make the first move.
When I was just out of arm’s reach, I jumped, knowing I wouldn’t make it over him.
He did exactly what I wanted him to do; he reached out, going for my neck.
I grabbed his thumb, twisted his arm, and used his body weight to fling myself higher before wrapping my thighs around his neck and throwing him to the ground.
I slammed the throwing knife into his forearm, earning a soundless snarl, which was actually one of the most terrifying things I had ever heard.
Weapons of opportunity. It would be nice to one day have my own, but despite not being trained to use one, I had six in this room. Seven if I counted using Alaric’s own body against him.
I could manage that.
He turned in my grip, my legs tightening around his neck, but it wasn’t enough. He grabbed the back of my dress and ripped me off of him.
I released him without fight, twisting myself in the air the second he let me go, landing in a half-crouched position on the other side of the room.
I was light, it was one of my best and worst assets. Easier for people to get the upper hand, but also easier for me to avoid being caught. I was faster, hard to catch, and everyone would underestimate me, even if they were professionals.
I straightened, the remote closer to me now. I didn’t even look at it.
Alaric ripped the knife from his arm and dropped it, the blood dripping down his hand to the floor. His grip would be slightly weaker in his right hand now. It wasn’t much, but everything was either an advantage or a disadvantage, and this was certainly an advantage.
I ran for it, forcing him to react, only to change my trajectory, flying to the left instead of the right. I got behind him and jumped onto his back, wrapping my arms around his neck in a chokehold, my legs wrapping tightly around his waist.
I held no delusions that I could choke him out, but it would get him to stop going for my remote.
Just like I had thought, he stopped, grabbed the hair at the crown of my head and leaned forward.
I released him just before he flew back. He tried to crush me, but even with my hair gripped in his bloody hand, I was too fast for him. It was painful, but I managed to twist myself around and land on my back above him, our heads nearly touching each other.
I quickly recovered and, like a snake, I slid on top of him, straddling his waist. His left hand shot out, going for my neck, which he could grab, I was fine with that, I only needed my hands.
His hand tightened around my neck painfully, my scalp screaming, all the while, my hand reached for the small hilt he had on his hip, hidden under his long shirt.
I easily pulled the knife out and finally leaned forward into the hand choking me, black spots dancing in front of my eyes. I was low on oxygen, but Azrael had taught me to fight with less.
I pressed the tip of the blade against his throat and smiled, my heart and head pounding. I got him. I won.