The Secret Heiress | ✔️

34 | 𝙻𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚕 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚗

☘︎ Jᴇɴɴɪғᴇʀ Rʏsᴏɴ ☘︎

Viviane is a lethal weapon forged into a human being.

It's in the delusional speed, the impossible angle at which she jabs her elbow into the abdomen of the man twice her size. The force and suddenness of her hit has the black-uniformed guard release her with a pained groan, stumbling backwards in startlement and shock. Viviane spins around, jabbing her knee up his groin making the man thump down to the floor holding his crotch in agony, while she effortlessly grabs the gun from his waistband.

The gun in her hand looks like it's always belonged there, made for the sole purpose for her to use. She doesn't give anyone a second to think what's happening before the first gunshot cuts through the air then another and another and another, each with such agility and precision it's crazy. Not even a moment later, every ten of the men who were surrounding us, lie motionless on the floor. Dead. Bullet shot right through their heads.

Viviane stares at the crimson blood pooling around the dead bodies with a pout, "I swear I didn't want to kill them. I just didn't like their uniforms."

Paul seems to be in a state of momentary stupor, unable to process what just happened in a matter of minutes, as if he can't accept the fact that he is now without a single extra protection except himself and his daughter who acts frantic at the sight of blood around her, obsessively tucking her hair behind her ears again and again.

Paul does hold up a good facade of bravado though, changing his aim from me to Viviane, realizing who is a bigger threat for him in the current situation.

Viviane doesn't bat an eye, still pouting at the corpses. Paul prepares himself to shoot and I open my mouth to warn her, but before he can even pull the trigger on his gun, a gunshot echoes hitting Paul right on his ankle. Paul falls to his knees with a considerably pathetic scream for a man who'd been singing odes a while ago about killing people.

Mia shrieks, covering her ears, her face becoming paler and her frail body trembling. She can kill people on request of the one she's dependent on but she can't see anyone being killed, especially the person she's dependent on. Is this part of her DPD?

Viviane rolls her eyes, finally shifting her gaze to the man in question, "I hate guns. They're so noisy. I rather prefer the screams of my victims over the sound of gunshots. It's sad we don't have a knife here for me to use. You know, cutting people down and stuff, I enjoy those a lot."

I think I notice a cold sweat run down Paul's temple, it makes me want to smile even in such a grim situation. He's actually afraid. He had no idea he wasn't dealing with a fragile thing, but with a more dangerous psychopath than himself. Who the fuck is Viviane?

"I really don't like meddling in other people's business." Viviane passes the dead guards, her red heels staining with redder blood. She smirks darkly as though she quite enjoys this, like she missed it, like this is her favorite kind of battlefield.

Paul still has his gun loosely clutched in his hand but he hesitates to aim, probably thinking she'd shoot him again, this time maybe to the heart or head. She's playing him, and something tells she's always been the best kind of player.

"But you had to go and make it personal by imitating the clown." Viviane reaches Paul, looming over his form on the ground, like a shadow of death preparing to take away his soul.

"You know how they say there are incidents that define a person? The clown kidnapping was that incident for me." Viviane crouches down in front of him, sitting on her heels and smiling at Paul like she's talking about sunshine and rainbows, "It made me embrace my inner monster. My parents were so proud of me, they got me the real clown as a birthday gift straight from prison. I definitely liked making the clown suffer before I killed him. I was nine years old, took me a long while to get introduced to my inner beast. But I realized I actually quite like her. That I'm a better predator than a prey. "