"Not a chance, pops! There is no goddamn way some piece of shit, on the bottom of my shoe, did this to me and still walks free!"
He smirks and gives me a look that only a parent can give. I stand strong, not letting my grip falter. "Everly." He warns, his tone darkening just enough that it reminds me of my rank.
With that, I release my hold of James with a scoff and an eye roll. He drops to the ground in a coughing fit.
"Sorry." I mumble in the direction of James.
"It's *cough* fine *chokes* Ev." James squeaks out.
My eyes pan back to my father and I cross my arms, waiting for him to speak.
"We will find them, la piccola. No one can hide in this city. Harming the heir and thinking they can get away with it?" Ending with a soft chuckle.
"I am going back out there to find this son of a bitch." I spit.
He smirks and says, "No, right now you will rest. There is time, but after you are healed." My blood starts to boil. There's no way my ass is staying in a hospital.
"Ev, you died on that rooftop... Twice. You are lucky to be alive. You lost so much blood.." James whispers as I stare in shock.
I've been close to death too many times to count, but I have never died. Let alone twice. I suddenly become light headed and decide to lay back against the bed. I need to follow orders, for once, and wait it out. His time will come and it will be by my hands. I just need to find the strength to not kill the hospital staff out of boredom.
~~~~~~
Seven days, five hours, four minutes, and nineteen seconds I have stayed in this room. Every second I have been awakeI have planned different missions to find him and every second I have been asleep I have dreamt of ways I will eradicate him from this earth. Today is the day I get sprung from this hell hole and go back to my warm, comfy bed. James saunters through the door with a smile on his face.
"Ready to go?" James asks. I give him a knowing look and collect my belongings.
As we enter the parking garage my eyes look for the only thing I have missed more than my bed and my Glock...that's when I see her. Matilda sits there in all her beautiful glory, just waiting for me. A Dodge Challenger SRT Demon with a HPE1000 upgrade, including limited edition polycarbonate body panels and ballistic glass. Basically, I can go 200 mph and get hit with a missile from a tank while doing my eyeliner. And of course, she's blacked out. As I slide into my car, James wishes me a farewell. Climbing into his Audi RS7, we wave each other off and exit the garage. The drive home leaves me stuck in my head. All my thoughts travel back to my mysterious attacker. Who is he? Why did he steal my kill? How does he know who I am? Questions pour into my mind as I continue my journey. I swerve in between cars, speed through stop signs, and run red lights. This city is mine and I do as I please. Just as I am nearing home I see flashing lights signaling an oncoming train. Approaching the tracks, a very bad idea comes to mind. I stop my car and rev the engine, doing a burnout. With a smirk on my face, I flip that pretty red switch, release the break, pop the clutch, and I am gone. Zero to 60 in 2 seconds flat. As I land on the other side of the tracks the train flies past me with its horn blaring. What can I say? I'm an adrenaline junkie.
The large colonial style estate comes into my view and I relax slightly. Traveling around our horse shoe shaped driveway Ipull into the garage and retrieve my bags from the passenger seat. Walking through the garage, I’m stopped by a series of deadly barks. Rounding the corner are my two dogs. Token, my male Beauceron is a powerhouse of elegance and brute strength. Hella, comes in after. She is a Presa Canario who is a total bitch but loyal to fault, just like her owner. I quiet them with a whistle before crouching to give both a pet. These dogs would die for me and therefore deserve my utmost respect. I turn away and release them with a command. As I go inside I am slammed to the ground by mass amounts of weight. Someone puts spit in my ear via a finger and I damn near pull out my gun.
"Who the fu-" I start to say when my mother's voice bellows. "What are you boys doing? Get off of her before you put her back in the hospital!"
I hear grunts and laughter as the weight slowly decreases. As I get to my feet I glare at the people who decided to turn me into a bean bag chair. Anthony, my younger brother beams at me while coming in for a firm hug. Next is Dillon, the youngest sibling. He glances at me nervously, silently asking for permission. I smile and nod while opening my arms. We hug and my attention is pulled beyond the doorway. I look onto the three biggest morons I have ever met. James, Ryon, and Lucas. My three best friends. In unison they approach me and wrap me into an embrace. It ends up in someone being stepped on or a fit of jealousy that one of them is hugging more of me.
"Alright, enough assholes. I'm tired. We need to talk." I state.
"Your father is in his office waiting." Ryon says. I nod in understanding and we make our way there. Looking at the back of his head as we walk, I take in his appearance. He is tall with his dirty blonde hair sitting in longer curls on thetop that fades to a shorter length . Tattoos are etched from beneath the collar of his shirt to the base of his hairline.
"Everly." My father acknowledges as I enter, followed by my three goons.
"Father. Are there any updates?" I inquire.
"We have surveillance footage of all surrounding intersections to Chaos." Lucas interjects. He looks tired, his strawberry hair disheveled as if he’s been pulling at the roots. I notice a new piercing and tattoo he’s added to his collection. He’s easily the most tatted out of the four of us. I’m actually surprised he even has any space left.
"And? Where did this guy come from?" They drop their eyes and I know the answer.
"So this guy is invisible? We have no leads? No evidence? Nothing?" I ask.
"What do you remember?" James questions. His brown hair and eyes draw my attention momentarily as I look over his features. He sports ghastly purple lines on his neck. I almost wince at the memory of choking him when I first woke up. If I had emotions, I might care. I push it down as I cast my sights back across the group.
"He was wearing a mask. I never saw his face. He stabbed me before I could get it off." My dad grits his teeth at my last comment.
"Well, is there anything special about him that would set him apart from any John on the street?" Ryon beckons.
I ponder, looking around as I let my mind search the memories. "He has an accent...it's foreign. European, forcertain. His mask was just half of a skull. The bottom was made of black material." They all stiffen and I hear a couple of gasps. I look around with confusion evident on my face.
"It's a French accent and the mask is that of The Ghost." My father says. My blood runs cold and I begin to sweat.
