They say that killing is illegal.
I say sometimes it's a necessity.
I'm not a killer, I'm a judge. A judge for people, whom the law couldn't reach. I am a judge, maybe unusual but one nevertheless.
𝗜 𝗮𝗺 𝗮 𝗵𝗶𝘁𝘄𝗼𝗺𝗮𝗻.
They call me a murdere...
I know it's early. Let's say it's compensation for the little break I'll take;)
اوووه! هذه الصورة لا تتبع إرشادات المحتوى الخاصة بنا. لمتابعة النشر، يرجى إزالتها أو تحميل صورة أخرى.
♟𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐♟
♟𝚅𝚘𝚝𝚎&𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝♟
♟𝙴𝙽𝙹𝙾𝚈♟
🗝 ∞ 🗝 ∞ 🗝
"Betrayal is never easy to handle and there is no right way to accept it."
🗝 ∞ 🗝 ∞ 🗝
[Narrator's POV]
Lim blocks Nicole's chattering out as his eyes lock with a pair of bright green orbs. The verdant irises glare at him with a gaze full of coldness and emptiness, just like the ones he sees every morning in the mirror. The mere glimpse of the woman makes his mouth go dry, sending a wave of sparking shivers through his body.
The next thing he knows he's on his feet, dragging his half-drunk person towards the bar like a mindless drone. He pushes everyone who dares to stand in his way. He needs to get a better view of her. He needs to see her but as he blinks, she's gone like a cloud of smoke in a misty alley. No longer in the range of his vision. Just like that, she disappears like she's never even been there.
What the hell? Is he hallucinating? Is his mind playing tricks on him? Again. No, she can't be here. She's not that stupid. It's just a stupid side effect.
Sitting back in the velvet-covered booth, Mackenzie lets his rough hands rub his exhausted eyes, hiding his face from the outside world. He can't believe that the very kid he used to babysit is creating so many problems for him. How can someone be so ungrateful?
Mackenzie leans back on his booth, placing one elbow on his propped-up knee and the other one on the back of the booth. "Any news about Y/N?"
Nicole scoffs, rolling her eyes as hard as possible, "Your sister and her friends killed seventeen people and vanished from our radars. And all that in just an hour," she lets out a heavy sigh, "If you ask me, she's already out of the country, looking for a new house somewhere in Moscow."
He deliberately shakes his head, biting down on the tender flesh of his lower lip as his long fingers dig out something from his pocket. "No. She's left a clear message last time," he whispers, showing her a feminine ring adorned by an emerald diamond, that catches the light momentarily, casting green sparkles everywhere. "She won't run." He smiles. There is a hint of a victory in the smile surrounded by his stiff cheeks, something like mocking malice. "Or perhaps she will, except this time in another direction."
