MAD WOMAN

69. THE BOSS, OR SON OF THE BOSS?

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BIBOERE'S P.O.V:

Eze's brown orbs that watched thousands of my people die, scrutinized my existence like he was mentally debating massacring my body as well. "Distasteful." A frown made a way to his face after making a non consented analysis of me.

Anger spiked up in my veins towards what he was currently doing. He was sizing me up like how people would do when going to the market to buy meat. Did I appear like the flesh and skin of a dead goat in his eyes? Who the fuck did this bastard assume he was?

I angrily wiped my tears and stood up to face him with a courage I didn't know where exactly I got it from. "I could say the same about you, but that would be me being nice." I spat at the most dangerous man in Africa. I glanced around and saw that we were alone. For once, his security team wasn't following him around like he was their mama duck. "This one your security people are not with you, let an insane person not come and sneak up on you and stab you in the neck." An icy smile made its way to my lips as I move forward.

To my surprise, he seemed amused by my daring act. "And by someone insane, you mean you?"

"I am not insane, sir." I smiled, my lips dripping of sugar. "I am mad." I lowered my tone. I probably had on a maniacal grin as I spoke to him.

"Is that so?"

I nodded. "So the next time you try me, remember when I told you that I'm mad."

"I'm practically shitting in my pants at this moment." He towered over me, gleaming with authority and death. "Did my son ever tell you my obscene technique in breaking necks?" He inquired like as if we were conversing about the weather. "Well, it's not a pretty sight, nor a pretty experience." Eze paused. "It most certainly has been a while since I broke one. Would you mind being a dear by holding still?" His smile was back and wider.

I instantly got pneumonia from his words, but there was no fucking way I was going to let him see he was getting to me. So I glued my feet to the floor and took a hold of every of my senses that were in charge of mobility in my body. I presented myself as immobile, and insurmountable as Eze Obasi's shoe-covered right foot stepped on mine.

Pain surged instantaneously as he pressed harder. At this point, there was no breathing space between Eloka's father and my body. But he didn't seem bothered by the close proximity. He was obviously doing it intentionally to fuck with my mind and make me feel uncomfortable and beyond scared.

"I can feel your toe cracking under my weight." He whispered to my frozen self that was on the verge of crying.

"Do your worst, old man." I barely spoke. "You don't fucking scare me."

"Apologies if that was what I made it seem. I had no intention of such a petty..." He took me by surprise when he aggressively stomped on my left foot and I yelped in pain, flinching away as I fell to the floor. "...act."

I resisted the urge to hold my feet or even examine if it was broken. That would only feed his ego, and I rather die than do that. "Tribal butcher." I spat at him as I held the wall for support in standing up.

"Tsk, tsk. Look at you bringing up old wounds. It is very typical of someone from your..." Once again, his eyes moved from top to the bottom of me.

"Ethnicity? Class? Background? Come on, say it. You fucking classist." I harshly spat. "You should be in prison serving for all the lives you and your father took during the war. You brutally murdered men, women, and babies. One of my older cousins died at the age of ten because she was trying to escape from your soldiers."