Chapter 8 - The Empty Chamber
"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" Mark sang mockingly.
The blade of his knife scraped against the metal crates, sending a terrible shiver down my spine.
Vincent tried to stand, but his massive frame swayed, and he slumped back down.
"Shoot him, Lena," Vincent commanded in a harsh whisper.
I gripped the heavy gun, my hands shaking so badly I could barely keep it level.
Mark stepped around the corner, his smile widening when he saw us trapped.
"Look at this," Mark laughed, tossing his knife from hand to hand.
"The big bad Mafia boss, bleeding out in the dirt."
He took a step closer, completely ignoring the gun in my hand.
"You think you can pull that trigger, Lena?" he taunted.
"You are weak, you have always been weak."
Memories of every slap, every insult, and every broken bone flashed through my mind.
I remembered the sound of my arm snapping in our bathroom.
The fear that had ruled my life for five years suddenly evaporated, replaced by pure, blinding rage.
"I am not your victim anymore," I stated coldly.
Mark rolled his eyes and lunged forward with the knife raised high.
I squeezed the trigger, fully prepared to end his miserable life.
May you like
A loud, empty click echoed through the warehouse.
The gun was completely out of bullets.
