Chapter 5 - The Frying Pan
Matilda froze in the center of her tiny living room.
The hitman cocked the hammer of his gun, his eyes completely dead and devoid of mercy.
“Lorenzo pays very well for loose ends,” the assassin said smoothly.
Matilda knew she had absolutely no time to negotiate.
She didn’t scream, and she didn’t beg for her life.
She lunged toward the small kitchen counter right next to her.
Her hand wrapped around the handle of a massive, cast-iron frying pan.
Before the hitman could pull the trigger, Matilda swung the heavy pan with blinding speed.
The iron slammed brutally into the side of the hitman’s skull.
The gun fired wildly, the bullet shattering Matilda’s cheap television.
The hitman collapsed to the floor like a sack of stones, completely unconscious.
Matilda stood over him, panting heavily, her hands shaking around the handle of the pan.
Gabriel slowly opened his eyes, watching her from the couch with absolute awe.
“Remind me never to insult your cooking,” Gabriel whispered dryly.
Matilda dropped the pan and rushed to his side.
“We need answers,” Gabriel commanded, struggling to sit up.
Matilda grabbed a roll of duct tape from her drawer and securely bound the hitman’s hands and feet.
She threw a glass of freezing water onto the assassin’s face.
The man gasped, waking up with a terrified look in his eyes.
Gabriel grabbed the hitman by the collar, his mafia persona returning in full force.
“Who poisoned me?” Gabriel snarled, pressing his thumb into the man’s bullet wound.
The hitman screamed in agony.
“It was Dr. Evans!” the assassin cried out desperately.
“He swapped your pain medication with a neuro-blocker so Lorenzo could take the throne!”
Gabriel’s face turned to pure stone.
The doctor he had trusted for ten years had sold him out for money.
“Lorenzo ordered the doctor to finish you off tomorrow before the cremation,” the hitman confessed.
Gabriel let go of the man and slumped back against the sofa cushions.
He looked down at his bandages, which were now completely soaked in fresh blood.
His breathing grew incredibly ragged.
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“I’m bleeding internally,” Gabriel gasped, his skin turning gray.
“If I don’t get a transfusion right now, I am going to die for real.”
