Bullet ✔️

Chapter 40

He pulled the trigger. I heard the sound. But there was no bang, no loud, deafening shot. And, most surprisingly, I was still alive—and unharmed.

Unless, of course, it happened so fast I didn't even register it, and I was just a ghost. My eyes were closed, because I didn't dare face reality just yet. But then Orlov's laughter filled the silence, echoing off the brick walls and wooden crates. "Had I known you'd shoot my friend first, I'd've put two bullets in!"

No bullet. Well, one bullet, but...I dared turn my head and look at the bloody mess behind me. With a gasp, I put my hands over my mouth, nausea creeping up from the inner pit of my stomach to my throat, and I was sure I was gonna vomit right then and there. Charlie was usually tan and handsome, but he was now pale, and with a large hole right between his open, lifeless eyes. And I sat on my knees in a pool of his blood.

"Well, Nina's gonna be happy you were willing to shoot her," Orlov went on, "'cause she's been bugging me to get you on our side for ages, now."

Nina, I thought, I knew her...right?

"Nina George?" Damian's voice was, if possible, even darker now, confirming my own suspicions. I knew that Nina—she was Elina's sister.

I pushed my nausea down, turning my head to look towards Orlov and Damian, now face to face. I felt sick again when I looked at the man I thought loved me—who I thought I loved—until he pulled the trigger of that fucking gun in front of my face.

"Yes, Nina George," Orlov confirmed, his smile as smug as ever.

Damian didn't hesitate; his fist connected with Orlov's jaw and I heard a cracking sound, adding to the horrible sounds that were now going to be stuck in my mind forever. Then there was another cracking sound, just like the first one, and another, and another. My eyes were closed the whole time, but I could hear Orlov chuckling between blows, and groaning in pain when he was struck. A dripping sound told me there was blood, and I had to concentrate not to gag.

This was not how I imagined this confrontation. For starters, I didn't think Damian would shoot me.

"Isabelle." My name sounded strange coming from Damian's bruised lips. I forced myself to look at him, and I saw that same stone-like expression as he pulled Orlov's beaten body towards me. "Your turn, sweetheart."

Damian had somehow found another gun, unless he just bluffed when he held it against Orlov's neck as he placed him in front of me. His face was already swollen and bloody, almost unrecognizable if it wasn't for that stupid ass smile.

But I didn't do anything. I couldn't. I just kept staring at the man as my rage started building up inside me again. Adrenaline rushed through my veins, but if it was from the sight before me, the dead man behind me or the psychotic man I'd been dating for months, I didn't know.

"He murdered your dad," Damian reminded me.

"I know." My throat was dry, but I did my best to get the words out. I swallowed before I forced my legs to stand up, and I raised my chin. Blood pumped through my body so loudly I could barely think—could barely see.

It was like I'd finally fallen into that hole the world split open before me time and time again, only to see that what I'd wanted to do to this man wouldn't make me feel any better. He was already unrecognizable from Damian's fists.

"Ha!" Orlov made a sound that resembled laughter, but also pain. Like he couldn't hide what Damian had done to him. "You won't do anything to me, Isabelle, you're too nice."

I clenched my jaw, and my fist. Then I struck, just once, feeling the bones in my hand pop as I let all my strength and force run through to that one wonderful punch. It felt great, but I knew that would have to be the first and last time I touched that man. One punch for dad.