Burn Me Right

Chapter 79

Autumn laid her back on the bed and closed her eyes.

"Atty," Zyler called her, but her nose was buried in the book. "Autumn," he yelled louder, and she didn't want to pay attention to him again.

Huffing, Zyler walked inside, grabbed the book, threw it on the couch, and picked her up. "What are you doing?" She tried freeing herself, but Zyler's grip was firm. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead, landing in the hollow of her cleavage, causing her to gulp nervously as he smirked in response.

She gulped, and he smirked. He walked into his training area and put her down; all the while, she was confused about what was happening around her.

"What am I doing here? Why are we here?" she felt a chill. The place looked dark and brooding, just like him.

"I am training you," Zyler declared, his voice commanding as he seized a spear and hurled it precisely past her head. The spear soared through the air, slicing through the space with a lethal grace before embedding itself squarely in the bull's eyes on the target.

The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the room, causing her hair to cascade and bounce in all directions as if caught in the turbulent wake of the spear's trajectory.

"I don't want to get trained," she wanted no part in his madness.

But Zyler knew. He knew that if he was away for some reason, she should be able to defend herself. He was not stupid. He knew people around him would try to kill him and her if they had a chance. Even if he killed all his enemies, new ones pop up like mushrooms.

"Listen to me, Atty," he firmly grabbed a target and planted it on the ground. "You need self-defense. You need to learn how to shoot a gun," he grabbed the gun and turned her around to face the target.

Autumn opposed. "I don't want to kill anyone," she refused to indulge in his fantasies.
The thought of touching that gun sent shivers down her spine. The mere thought of the countless souls that might have latched onto its metal surface filled her with a bone-chilling dread. In the dim light, the gun seemed to exude an aura of malice, as if it were cursed by the very hands that had wielded it in violence.

How many bodies had that gun been a witness to? How many lives had it mercilessly snuffed out, leaving behind only a trail of despair and agony? The weight of its dark history pressed down upon her, suffocating her with the realization that she could not touch it.

As Zyler's fingers brushed against the cold, unforgiving metal, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was inviting a darkness into her soul, a darkness that had consumed countless others before her. The gun seemed to whisper tales of death and destruction, its very presence serving as a grim reminder of the horrors it had witnessed and the lives it had devoured.

"You need to protect yourself, Atty. I won't be here always. I can be bashful and tell you I will be able to protect you, but that is a lie, Atty. I am a human at last," he grabbed her by the neck and made her stare at him. She avoided his eyes and looked at the target in the back.

"Look at me," he turned her neck and made her stare into his eyes. "Please, Atty, I beg you," he pleaded. He knew he would have to take down Varney soon. He wouldn't be here to save her if something went wrong.

He saw her thinking for a second. "Please?"

"I don't want to touch your gun," she will not touch the gun that killed so many people. He chuckled. Letting her neck go, he walked away from her and unlocked a box. Taking out a brand-new gun, he ensured safety was on for now.