★★Mariella's POV★★



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The engine of my car purrs as I bring it to a halt, parking it behind a cluster of thick trees. The shadows of the woods swallow the vehicle whole, leaving no trace of my arrival. I step out of the car with a fluid, practiced motion, feeling the cool air hit my skin as I adjust the grip on my weapons. The silence of the forest is eerie, broken only by the distant cawing of crows, their haunting cries adding to the weight of the moment.

I move with purpose, my platform boots crunching softly against the earth as I make my way through the trees, each step calculated and silent.

The sound of the wind rustling through the branches creates an unsettling rhythm, matching the pounding of my heart in my chest. As I draw closer, I see the faint flicker of light through the trees—torches, scattered around a clearing. The flames dance in the night, casting an eerie glow across the dark ground.

I slow my pace as I near the edge of the clearing, where the chanting begins to rise in the distance, low and rhythmic.

Fucking hell.

The words are foreign, ancient-sounding, carrying with them an unholy weight. My breath catches in my throat as I press my back against the trunk of a massive tree, taking cover in the shadows.

I peak out from the tree, my breath steady despite the surge of fury building inside me.

The five figures surrounding the child are cloaked in dark, flowing robes that cover every inch of their bodies, their faces hidden beneath hoods. The only thing visible are the occasional glimpses of their hands, raised in unison, as they chant in a language I don't recognize.

There are five of them—tall, imposing figures—standing in a perfect circle, their voices low and ominous, vibrating through the air like a distant storm.

At the center, a child. The sight before me twists my stomach into knots. The child on the stone slab is little girl, no more than six years old. Tears streak her dirt-smeared face, her tiny body wracked with sobs as she struggles against the chains that bind her. Her cries pierce the air, a sound so innocent and pure it makes the air feel heavy with rage.

But it doesn't stop there. I glance around, and my blood runs cold as I see more children, all on their knees, eyes wide with terror. They're watching, bound, unable to escape, each one crying in silent desperation, their little faces streaked with tears.

My hand tightens around the hilt of my knife, my breath steady but the fury building up inside me. I won't let this happen. I won't let these sick bastards get away with this.

They'll all pay.

And then, the leader speaks.

His voice cuts through the tension in the air, low and commanding, in Latin. The words come slow, deliberate, as if savoring the moment, the impending ritual.

I watch as he steps forward, a long ceremonial knife in his hand, the blade gleaming in the dim light of the torches.

He holds it over the girl's chest, his hand steady, preparing to pierce her heart. The look on his face is one of twisted satisfaction—like he's done this a thousand times before.

But this time, it's different. This time, there's someone watching. Someone who will stop it.

Without a single blink, I unleash the knife, my hand moving in a fluid motion. The blade slices through the air with the speed of a bullet, its trajectory perfectly aimed. It sinks into the leader's eye with a sickening precision, the tip of the knife piercing deep into his skull. He doesn't even have time to react.

The moment his body crumples to the ground, lifeless, the forest erupts in a cacophony of gasps and startled cries.

What can I say? Bullseye.

The other figures in their robes, their faces hidden, scramble in shock and confusion. They barely have time to process what's happened before I'm already gone.

I move like a shadow, slipping silently to the next tree, staying out of their line of sight. My heartbeat thrums in my chest, but I push it aside.

This is what I do. No hesitation. No fear.

The three guards, momentarily distracted by the noise of the knife's impact, start moving into the woods, their eyes scanning for the source of the attack. The other two stay behind, their attention fixed on the children, oblivious to the approaching danger.

With practiced stealth, I silently move, my feet barely making a sound on the forest floor. I close the distance between myself and one of the guards, the adrenaline steadying my breathing. I drop low, my knees bending, and in one swift motion, I rise, using the momentum to drive my knee into the back of his knees.

The guard buckles, his legs collapsing beneath him with a sickening thud. He crumples to the ground, too slow to even shout in surprise. Before he can react, I'm already on top of him, my gloved hand covering his mouth, stifling any sound.

With my gloved hand still pressed to the back of the guard's head, the poison from my knives seeps into his skin as he inhales the toxic residue. It takes only seconds before his body goes slack, his muscles relaxing and his breath becoming shallow. His eyelids flutter, his consciousness fading as the botulinum toxin does its work.

I don't waste time. In one smooth motion, I pull the small knife from its sheath, its blade already coated with the deadly poison. I drive it swiftly into the side of his neck, making sure it hits the artery with precision. His body twitches once, then goes still, his life extinguished as quietly as it began.

One down, 4 more to go.



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*Oh my goodness, tbh, if I had a "hear me out," she'd definitely be front and center of my cake ngl. Lol.

Thoughts?

Also, how's everyone's day or night going—whatever time it is where you are?

Bye, lovies! (っ◔◡◔)っ

Maddie♡