Little Bird

Chapter 13

Thank you, thank you, thank you all so much for your patience! I know this has been a long wait, and I'm terribly sorry to have to do that to you guys. But I truly hope the wait was worth it for this chapter. It will include violence, some revelations, and of course, smut 😈 ENJOY 🖤

"Stars, hide your fires; let not light see my black and deep desires"

Red. Everything was red.

"If you won't tell me, then I have no use for you." Gargled noises echoed in his ears as Coriolanus shoved the knife further into the useless swine of a man underneath him.

He of course had only the best of men by his side, looking over the bodies and destruction around him.

They had nearly taken out the whole damn ring.

"Sir, we have to go."

"I am not finished."

His hand was shaking while he still had the knife deep into the dead man's jugular.

Everything began to blur, those damn mockingbirds echoing in his ears...

"Coriolanus!"

Blinking his eyes a few times, his vision clears, looking at the masked man in front of him, knowing it was Castor.

"What?", he snaps back.

"We have to get out of here before someone stumbles upon this. You might be wearing a mask, but anyone could recognize that damn white ass hair."

Coriolanus snarls, yanking the knife from the now rotting corpse on the ground. "Any evidence?"

"No, sir."

"Casualties?"

"No, sir."

"What about the girls?"

"They ran once we interrupted their... activities."

Frantically looking down at his watch, he sees that it's nearly 4 AM. His poor little bird.

"Okay, do a quick sweep over everything before leaving."

It was sloppy of him to leave a massacre for anyone to find, but it had seemed that time slipped away.

And now the only thing he could think of was his girl. His fire. His Ember.

    *********************

The drive back home felt like an eternity.

When he crossed the threshold into his home, his legs instantly took him back to his bedroom, where he had left his bird.

Barely creaking open the door, he finds her peacefully sleeping, completely sprawled out onto his king sized bed.

It nearly made him chuckle with the way a tiny frame such as hers could take up such a large space. But in the most beautiful way.

Not wanting to wake her, he quietly sneaks into the bathroom, shutting the door before turning on the light.

He finds himself staring into his reflection, not realizing he was still wearing his mask.

His clothes, skin, even hair, was caked in blood.

It was strange.

There was a time where murdering another brought him sadness.

Now?

Now it gave him strength. A sick sense of power.

That woman wanted to mess with him and his bird? Fine. Then let the fucking games begin.