Chapter Forty-one Amethyst
I stand, trying to be as careful as possible. My ribs scream at me with white-hot blinding pain. I breathe through it. Can’t let the pain stop me. Can’t let it slow me down.
The knife rests against my thigh. Hidden. Blade down. Ready.
I move to the door. I position myself on the left side. Near the hinges. Where he won’t see me immediately. Where I have the advantage.
The element of surprise.
My legs shake. Weak. Exhausted. I lock my knees. Force them steady. My ribs pulse. Each breath is agony. Sharp. Cutting.
Push it down. Pain is information. Nothing more. It doesn’t control me.
I wait.
Five minutes.
Ten. Fifteen.
Twenty.
My legs burn. My ribs get worse. Every second standing feels like torture. I don’t move. Don’t shift. Don’t give in. Thirty minutes.
Then—
Voices. Hallway. Distant. Getting closer.
Enzo.
I recognize his voice instantly. Sharp. Angry. Desperate.
“I don’t care what you think you heard—"
Another voice. Guard. Uncertain.
“Sir, the facility—"
“I SAID I DON’T CARE!"
Enzo.
Loing control. Footsteps. Heavy. Multiple people. Getting closer.
Closer.
My grip tightens on the knife. The handle slick. Sweat. Blood. Both. I adjust. Firm. Secure. Ready.
The footsteps stop. Right outside.
“Stay here," Enzo says.
Command. Final.
“Both of you. No one comes in."
“Yes, sir."
A pause. Brief and heavy. Then—
The lock clicks. Mechanical. Final. The handle turns. The door swings inward. Toward me.
Enzo steps through. His attention goes immediately to the chair. The empty chair. He freezes.
“What the—"
He turns. Sees me. Eyes wide. Shocked. Confused.
“How did you—"
I move. Fast. Precise.
The knife flashes forward. The blade slices across hs throat. Blood sprays. Hot and bright.
His eyes widen further. Pain. Shock. For a split second I think it’s over.
Then instinct takes over.
His hand shoots to his neck. The second strike never lands. His other hand slams into my wrist. Hard. The knife jerks sideways.
“Fuck!”
He drives forward. His shoulder crashes into my ribs. Agony explodes through me. A gasp tears from my lungs. The knife nearly slips from my fingers. Nearly. Not enough though.
I twist away from him and stumble backwards.
Enzo presses his hand back against his throat, blood pouring through his fingers.
Not fatal. Not deep enough.
Fuck.
It should’ve killed him.
His eyes lock on mine and he understands. One of us is dying in this room. And I have no intention of it being me.
Rage burns in his eyes.
“You fucking bitch!”
He screams at me. He charges, no hesitation, no fear. Just rage and violence.
I duck.
Not fast enough. His fist catches the side of my jaw. The room spins and I taste blood.
I slash forward, the knife biting into his forearm. Deep.
He swears and backs up separating us. We are about 4 feet apart. We’re both breathing hard, blood dripping from different spots.
Both of us hurt. Both of us standing. Both of us knowing that one of us is going to die.
Blood is pools through Enzo’s fingers. A lot of blood. But not enough to kill him.
His eyes flicker to the floor where his blood is pooling all around us. Then he looks back at me.
He’s assessing. Calculating. “You should’ve stayed in that chair.”
His voice is rough now. Wet. The blood in his throat changing it.
I say nothing. Don’t need to. His gaze drops to the knife. Then to my ribs. The slight way I’m favoring my side. The way every breath catches.
He sees it.
Of course he does.
Predators alays notice weakness.
His smile is ugly.
“I know your ribs must be hurting. It wouldn’t take much to break them into your lungs. How many are broken already?”
He takes a step towards me.
I don’t answer him but knew that previously there were three. I’m sure there’s more now.
He thinks he can break them. Probably puncture a lung. Leave me gasping for breath as I slowly die.
He takes another step towards me.
“Enough broken that you’re slowing down.”
He lunges fast. Faster than he should be.
I react. Barely in time.
The knife slashes forward but he catches my wrist.
Twist.
Pain explodes through my arm. The knife slips and falls, clattering to the ground.
His fist crashes into my ribs.
Everything goes white.
A sound escapes me.
Small. Broken.
The first real reaction I’ve given him. And he hears it.
His grin widens.
Another punch. Same spot. Same ribs.
I stagger backwards pulling and twisting myself free from him. My vision swims and I try to focus and breath.
He quick. Too quick. Before I can get myself together his hand closes around my throat and he drives me into the wall.
Concreate slams into my spine. Pain erupts everywhere.
He leans forward and puts his face inches from mine.
Blood running down his neck.. His chest. His shirt. He’s still bleeding. But not dying.
“You ruined everything.”The words come out raw and broken.
Years of obsession. Years of rage. Years of rebuilding what was eventually broken down, right under his nose.
“You took six years from me.”
His fingers tighten.“Six years.”Tighter.
“Do you know what I sacrificed?”His eyes are wild now. Desperate.
“What I built?”
His eyes search mine. Desperate. Not for information. For understanding. For validation. For someone to tell him that it all meant something.
I almost laugh.
Almost.
Because that’s the thing Enzo never understood. It wasn’t about him. Never was.
The realization must show on my face.
His expression changes instantly.
Pure rage.
He slams me into the wall again.
The room spins and stars burst behind my eyes.
For a second—
A dangerous second—
My knees buckle. And he sees it. Sees the weakness. The exhaustion. The pain.
But that was his mistake. He thinks he’s winning. Predators get careless when they think the prey is cornered.
I drive my knee upward hard. I hit his groin with every bit of strength I had.
Enzo folds over holding his groin as pain shoots through his whole body. A strangled sound tears from him and his grip breaks and I shove him away from me.
I create distance, I need space, and I need air.
I need just one clean opening. I need to get to the knife where I dropped it at. I look behind Enzo and see the knife.
We start to circle each other.
“You think you’re special?”
Enzo spits blood onto the floor. “You think you’re different from me?”
I say nothing still walking to my left. I’m close to the knife now. Just a few more steps.
His laugh is harsh and broken.
I’m standing over the knife now.
“You’re not.”
He points at the knife. At the blood. At the bodies neither of us can see.
“You kill people.”
He shows a bloody grin.
“So do I.”He pauses.
“You enjoy it as much as I do.”
I stare at him as I squat down and grab the handle of the knife.
He takes a step toward me. His eyes locking on to mine as I stand back up.“You’re exactly like me.”The words hang there. Waiting. Wanting a reaction. Wanting a denial. Wanting something.
I finally speak. My voice quiet.
“No.”
He blinks, and this time I take a step towards him.
He takes a step back. He’s retreating.
“You think people are things.”Another step.
“You think fear is loyalty.”Another. He retreats further back.
“You think control is respect.”
His back hits the wall. For the first time, he looks uncertain.
I smile.
“No, Enzo.”
I lift the knife.
“That’s why you’re going to die. I don’t use children. I don’t use fear. And I don’t use control over people.”
His eyes widen. And like prey who is cornered. He attacks.
One finale desperate charge. With everything he has left. He comes straight at me.
I move, but not fast enough. His shoulder catches mine.
The knife glances off his side instead of sinking deep.
Pain erupts in my arm, the blade nearly flies free again.
We crash together pushing and shoving til we both hit the wall.
His hand finds my throat again. Not as strong this time. Not as steady. But enough to make my vision blur. Enough to make my lungs stop taking in air.
Blood runs down his neck. Across his chest.
His face is inches from mine.
“You should have joined me.”
The words come out wet and broken.
He can barely speak but he keeps trying,
“You wouldn’ve ruled beside me.”I stare at him. Then let out a small choked laugh.
The expression on his face twists. Rage. Humiliation.
He wanted fear. He wanted obedience. He wanted submission. And I have none of those for him. Just disgust and pity.
His gip tightens. One last attempt.
His knees buckle on him. The blood loss finally catching up. He stumbles enough for me to twist and get him to let go.
Then the opening opens up. And I take it. I drive the knife forward deep and straight into his abdomen. His body jerks and a gasp tears from his throat.
I don’t stop. I rip the blade free and drive it in again.
Higher.
Deeper.
Again and again I drive the knife into his stomach, chest, and throat.
This fucker is going to die.
He tries to grab my wrist. But allt he blood make is so slippery that his hands can’t find a grip.
He’s trying so hard to hold onto life, but he’s already slipping away.
I finally bury the knife beneath his ribs upward towards his heart.
His entire body freezes before I even make it to his heart.
I pull the knife from his body and move back against the wall and let my body slide down the wall.
Every breathe hurts. Every rib is screaming. Every muscle is shaking. But he’s finally dead.
The man who captured me. Tortured me. Tried to break me. Now, he’s just a body. Just another ghost.
The hunt is over. The threat eliminated. The mission complete.
There are two more guards outside the door.
I stand back up and move towards the door waiting.
“It’s gone too quiet in there.”One of the guards is talking.
“Do you want to go in and see whats happening?”“No. He said to stay out here. Last thing we need is to be the next person Enzo kills.”They’re still standing outside and I wait for one of them to come in.
If they come in.