The end wasn't the end, Rather it was a new beginning. What can possibly be left for the worst to happen, When you'll be exhaustedly grieving? Because, You'll come back to me again, But I'll let you fall to your knees, begging.

AZEZAL

The phone lying on the desk buzzes up and captivates my attention. My eyes veer in the direction of it from the laptop screen. I take the phone after closing the laptop as I straighten up, walk towards the curtain wall, taking in the view of New York City. The light of this city never seems to dim even when the night falls.

I attach the phone to my ear after receiving the call and meet an uneven voice- "Boss, everything went as per your plan." My eyebrows scrunch together discerning the nervousness which is clearly reflecting in his voice. "Is it so? But your voice doesn't concede what you're saying," I utter stiffly.

I can picture sweat dripping off his forehead for how highly strung he is. He knows very well that I'm not someone who can be lied to quite easily, beguile so effortlessly.

He remains silent for a moment and then he tries to clarify, "Boss, it's not like that-" "Why is your voice fucking terror-stricken then?" I don't need to pull up an act to sound calm although I'm mentally conspiring how would I like to kill him after knowing what he did wrong.

"Boss, we did what we were told to. The bus and then the taxi- but we didn't know whether the goons that were harassing her were sent by you or not. We weren't informed about that." My fist clenches into a solid grip before I realize that it's an upshot of proprietorial this time.

"What did you do to them?" I query, my jaw tenses with fury. "W-We shot them. They were trying to drug her-" He is involuntarily stuttering, thinking he did a sin by acting without my order. Hearing that, my boiling rage simmers down and I make a sound of approval. Only then he eases himself and lets out a sigh of relief as if a heavy burden has been lifted off his shoulder, almost inaudible.

"Did she reach home after?" I shouldn't be asking this but I'm. This isn't any sort of caring or tenderness for her, this is because I need to know the condition of the person, who's only for me to ruin, to punish, to afflict. I rationalize my mind as if I got explanations to do.

"Yes boss, we followed her until she went inside the building. And we cleared up the bodies too. There is no hint of a single drop of blood in that street. No hint of what happened there." His tone loud and proud this time. "Good. You will be remunerated thrice more than what you were entitled to," Saying that with an impassive face I cut the call and shove the phone inside my pocket.

* * * * *

"Words." I demand imperturbably one last time, tracing the sharp blade of a knife.

He is still shivering with both cold and fear after I made his bruised, bloody body take an icey bath until he was blue. He even pissed his wet pants two times, that's how much scared he is. His teeth chattering like he's freezing, his mouth unable to form a word.

I roll my eyes bored, uninterested dealing with this halfwit dickhead. "Do you even consider yourself a man?" I mock hysterically.

"P-Please- I'm b-begging you-" the grownup, unworthy to be called a man cries up all over again perceiving what the show of my emotionless laughter meant. I'm totally stulified playing these games with him. He knows the sereneness before the tornado won't prevail long.

"What in particular are you begging for? That I don't cut you with this knife-" I display the knife closer to him, arch an eyebrow, "instead of my favourite one? Or do you think, you have your own, personal preference here to make a choice of weapon for your death?"

"P-Please, forgive me- let me go. I already told you everything I knew. I just had to steal a file from your office in disguise of an interviewer from a news channel. I had no idea of anything else other than that- I didn't even know who is making me do this and who am I stealing from! they only provided me the location and directions-" hearing his explanation, I uncompromising laugh out in a sneering manner.

"So, you're claiming that you don't know the identity of your master who sent you? and you didn't even know who you were supposed to play against?" I disparagingly give him an understandable nod and his fear intensifies more than before, "I'm not lying sir. Please-"

"That I know but- don't you think, he should have apprised you of what kind of man I'm or at least warned you of what might happen to you if you get caught?" I sneer and he unwavering nods, trying to hold my contentment by responding. Tears keep showering down his beard.

I ask rolling up my sleeves upto forearm, "Do you have kids?" His teeth starts chattering again not knowing what to answer. "N-No. I-I recently got married."

I lean against the chair with a conceited smirk playing on my face. "That's great. Now you can leave her before she leaves you." His pupils dilated listening to my words, and his respiration shallow, trying to settle himself.

"I have a question for you, if you were given a chance to choose a weapon by which you'll be granted death, what will it be?" His body trembles more than before, comprehending either way it's death for him now. There's no escape. And that he can lucidly see it in my gaze, I don't need to tell him.

His mouth starts to stumble when my eyebrow creases for delay in his reply, "GG-Gun-" uttering the word he closes his eyes, as if a bullet will instantly pierce through his skull and he will be proned to death so deftly, without any delay, painlessly.

My grin stretches up, getting the answer I anticipated, "Why gun?" His condition is getting worse with time. The mixture of blood and sweat keeps dribbling down the side of his head and his naked chest, designed with deep cuts and bruises.

I get up, stepping closer playing with knife in my hand. He abruptly closes his eyes, lowering his head, tensing up more with every step I take towards him. He seems like panic is suffocating him to death itself.

I tilt his head up with the blade of knife and knife is so sharp that it slits the skin of his jaw with the slightest contact, drawing out blood. He cries out louder this time.

"I expect answers when I question and I fucking hate weakness." I deadpan. He tries to cease his sobbing and answer me, "Guns- Death by guns are instant."

The smugness comes back to my face, "Painless, nonsensical, unversed, unsophisticated, effortless- and you know what?" I say, applying a little more pressure on the knife and he whimpers in agony as more blood paints the metal crimson red. I continue, "That's why guns are totally not my type. I like blood. Blood on my hands when I kill." His eyes are closed, his body unmoving under my touch, due to the horror of fear he's suffering, as if each of my word severely dismayed him.

I step back and let go of the knife. The metal falls on the concrete floor. He flinches with the sound and opens his eyes starting at the knife at his feet. Then he looks at me with anticipation, the hope that I'll let him go. And that anticipation, I would like to shatter like broken pieces of glass.

"You know, it's not like you did a big sin by intending to steal a file, which you unfortunately couldn't and got caught. But- what people call playing with fire, and I call daring a battle with the devil himself, isn't something everyone has balls for. So this last wish of dying with a bullet hole will surely be fulfilled-" his every slightest hope shatters so miserably that he looks already looks death before I even start actually killing him.

"But only after I'm done staining your full body red with knives until you take your second last breath, and then your wish will be granted, a bullet hole will be already there in your skull as you'll take your last breath."

His eyes aren't pleading for escape anymore, they have given up. He believes no superpower can release him from my grasp, there's no escape from this hell except death. And it's more than lucid to him what going against me could bring.

He whimpers, without no hope this time, "How can someone be this cruel?" Before I bring another fresh, deadly sharp knife to his chest, I murmur, "What else do you think people call me heartless, cruel for?"

He was barely breathing when I was done with him. My eyes burn with rage as I look at him in his last stage before death. He's so badly inflicted that he can't move a finger.

"This is what happens when you vie with something lethal." I know he heard me, feeling every bit of the agony, feeling death takeover.

I fling the bloody knife at his feet as my man hands over the gun to me. Then his last wish was granted too. "You may not know your master but he will get the message of how well you received your hospitality here." I utter the last words staring at his lifeless body in the pool of his own blood. "Clean up." Commanding, I don't give a second glance, I leave the place.

After washing my hands, I wear another clean shirt and think about the loss of my precious time in dealing with such feeble, cretinous creatures. What the fuck does my men even do if they need me to handle this? All they do is wait for my reaction and rejoice the scene.

And for fuck's sake I don't have that much audibility and patience for dealing with these half-witted, feeble creatures. If they are of no use to us, what's the point of keeping them? Just give them the death they deserve and it's not like they don't know that death will be their ultimate fate before taking the risk to oppose me. But these brainless men can't come to a conclusion without me and I have to oversee everything in the end anyway. Well, Great!

What are my men even for, if they can't take out information from a moronic fucktard? I remain engaged in office work and these are totally extra hecticness for me. Every small to small issue like this seek my attention. My jaw clenches with fury thinking about putting them in their place.

I get in my Bugatti La Voiture Noire and close the door with a jerk. Before initiating the engine, I call Remor, my second in command and he picks up instantly. "Yes sir?" His solemn voice apprises me of his sternness.

I drift the car towards the road and start yelling, my rage out of control, "What the fuck are our men doing? Why does every small to small thing need me? Fire all of those shitheads if they can't do their job properly. I don't need any futile, impotent fuckers in my gang. I certainly don't pay them out of benignity and benevolence. Hire new competent and skilled men who can manage things their own and won't need me to handle any irreverent case."

"I'm sorry, sir. If I was in city, you wouldn't had to look after it. I'll return as soon as the work gets done here," He says in reply, his voice acquiescent. "After you come back, your first task is to hire new men and check each of their background and competency keenly. Got it?" "Alright, sir." I hung up straightly after he responded and tossed the phone on the passenger seat, speeding up the car.

I like how my second in command, Remor is. Straight forward, comprehensive and dutiful to his work. Never leaves a chance for me to complain. He is the only man capable of holding my trust. I have known him for more than ten years and never in my life, I saw this man lying. I like discipline and delinquency towards work, it's the same for me everywhere, at home, in office, outside work. That's the reason why most of my men despise me, all of them in particular. But Remor, he is just as responsible and dedicated to his work as if it's a factor keeping him alive.

After a twenty minutes drive I reach my residence. When I finally come inside my penthouse, the first thing I do is- take a glass and fill it with whisky. I gulp down the whole glass in a gulp. The cold liquor slides down my neck and in a moment my nerves shiver down, the rage in me starts to sink slowly. I needed it real bad.

Within a while when everything gets out of my head, her thoughts slaps back at me again. I think about that moment when I was informed that someone harassed her- I felt like burning down this whole goddamn world, turn everything upside down, rip apart every cell which came in contact with her. She's only mine, mine to break, mine to torture, mine to exploit and no other can lay a finger on her. If they dare, they'll be ten feet under the ground without any controversy.

They just got lucky to get such easy deaths. Although I'm not even mad at my men for killing those fucktards without any delay, and if they wouldn't had taken actions right away, stood there like fools, I would have send them to hell myself before anything else.

Getting into the shower, I let cold water rain on me. My hands rest on the wall label as water keeps dripping down my hair, face and full body but doesn't wash the thoughts of her that I desperately want to get rid of at this moment. They keep on playing like a tap player in my head which I have been trying to find the stop button desperately, for so long, but miserably fail everytime. 3 years. It's been 3 years. I didn't forget even the tiniest thing.

"Leera Reilly-" I inhale deeply as each syllable of her name escapes my mouth so pacifically that my mind keeps repeating the same name again and again, as if the name feels too good sliding out my tongue. As pleasant as the breeze that reminds you of something of past, reminds you of white roses and autumn leaves. It captures everything that is not the same anymore, enlightens you with memories that you never want to think of.

Way more than beautiful in disguise of an unimpeachable angel but none can hold onto a facade for too long. Deception is something that once can get you in it's trap but the second time you become too prudent to fall for it.

And she is not only a deceiver to me, she is a culprit, a filthy liar, the most despicable person who's grave is in my hand.

I close my eyes and her face displays in the midst of my black vision. I want to fill her life, destiny, future, everything with the same darkness, where there is no hint of light. She will implore, beseech to become free of this black maze but won't be able to, it will consume her, suck her breaths out till she quits all of her stubbornness and gives up.

"I'll inflict every bit of pain in you. You saw what's being loved by me was like. It's time for you to see what's being despised by me is like. Every part of me would love to see you suffer," These aren't just words, these words hold a promise. A promise to myself, a promise to the destruction that's awaiting ahead of time.

"Count your days up, Amore, before it's late-" A mirthless smile touches my lips. "Because you'll see the form of me, you never knew existed."

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Hey! How do you think is the story going?? And any plot suggestions? Feel free to dm me :D

Thoughts on the male character? Horrifying probably lmao.

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