The Black Snake's Target [REVAMPED SAMPLE]

CHAPTER THREE [REWRITTEN]

Downstairs; it was quiet. The men could barely see. The moon was their only redeeming feature. The silver gleam pushed itself through the windows, acting as a night light for the assailants. Light danced on her black shirts and gleaming watches and showed them the stairs to the second floor. The tallest one turned to the other nine men then held up his right arm. He pressed his fingers firmly together and angled his hand to each side as a sign that meant to split up. They followed instructions, four to the right and four to the left. Only one man followed him upstairs—right where they assumed their target to be sleeping.

Silent, the duo journeyed up the steps, careful not to put too much weight on the old, cackling staircase. According to their employer, this was not a hit to be taken lightly. That irked the men; they were aware that the target was a woman. 'What can a woman really do to us?' The leader thought, smiling at how ridiculous that would be.

Still, they quietly made their way upstairs and opened all the doors they could find. There wasn't a trace of any woman, but there was something off about the suite. They stepped inside and felt the smell of rose petals prick their noses. The bed sheets were ruffled. In fact, one was missing and the door to the balcony was wide open.

"Look around." The leader murmured. He quickly checked the closet, wardrobe, and even under the bed. He found nothing but empty suitcases. "Maybe the bitch left."

Both men started to laugh together, expecting nothing less. "We still need to find her, or else we won't get paid. I don't blame the bitch though." The man responded, more laughter bubbling in his belly.

They made their way to the door, but something caught the taller man's eye. A breeze picked up, showing him a quick glance at a white sheet. He stopped dead in his tracks and made his way to the balcony. There were a couple of satin sheets, tied together and wrapped around one of the bars on the balcony. He still thought of the same theory, but then he noticed something else. A thin piece of paper, sitting under a silver earring, was skillfully placed on the wall. He picked it up and he gasped, as a bone-chilling sensation gripped his spine.

"Let's play." It read in cursive with bright, red lipstick smeared at the bottom.

"She's still here."

And that was when he heard it.

"Argh!" Someone screamed, and then another and another, followed by a sudden range of gunfire.

The sound was different. It struck fear in the men. A unique form, that paralyzed them until the gunshots stopped. Only then did they run down the stairs to see what had happened. They found half of their team running from the right side with similar looks on their faces, but there was no sign of the other four.

"Boss—"

"What the fuck are you doing standing there?! Go! Find them and that bitch!" He yelled, pushing them ahead of him.

They held their guns high as they made their way to the left wing. Unsettled and taken aback, they constantly checked the perimeter. Paranoia them that this girl was standing in every dark corner of the house. The suspense was maddening to the group. Especially the leader. Due to the note. For some strange reason, he felt as though the note was addressed to him and only him. 'But that is crazy... right?' The lights came on and the kitchen was a bloody mess. Four bodies, horribly shanked, laying on the floor and countertops—their eyes were all open. Even though they lay dead, the agonizing fear could still be seen.

"Fuck this!" One man screamed, running out and towards the exit.

Bang!

His body hit the floor. No one saw where the bullet came from, just the noise and a taunting chuckle. Her tone was terrifying, but there was something alluring about her own amusement.

"Kill her!" The man ordered, backing away slightly.

He watched as they all ran into the main area, firing into the dark and scouring any corner their bullets could hit. All while their leader continued to back away, edging towards the side door. But just before he could, he saw something blinking red behind the curtain. It was loud and beeping at an accelerated rate. Molded with the gunshots, it made his ears ring.

However, he ran over to the red light and pulled by the drapes. It was a box with a countdown.

Five. Four. Three. Two.

"Fuck!" He screamed, ducking for cover.

One.

It exploded and the bang shook the house, setting it on fire and breaking down the concrete that held it together. Rubble and dirt surrounded him as he groaned on his back, barely able to breathe under the bricks that fell on top of him. His arms were broken, and his left ankle had twisted in his take-off. His lungs burned under the pressure and smoke, but he managed to crawl from under the disarray and made his way into the main area. He could not see anyone, yet he smelled blood. Buckets of it stained the air, forcing bile up the man's throat.

Overall, he was nauseated, broken, and petrified. He was in hell; She was the devil. The man could see that now. The way she hovered over the crying man, just a few feet away from him. Her posture was straight and her grip on the trigger was secure. Even as he begged for his life, there was no sign of hesitation or remorse.

She was silent, cunning like the black snakes she had plastered on her back. There was a gleam in her eye as she fired the gun. Brain matter spluttered over her naked feet, and she squished her toes in it, loving it. She was fucking crazy.

And now, she was staring right at him. Her smile widened as he struggled to get away, barely making it three feet before she slammed her foot into his neck. His eyes widened as it cracked. Still, he tried his best to shake his head and beg for some form of mercy.

"Please! I was ju—just doing my job!"

Joanna laughed, "Of course, you were, darling. I can understand that." But she did not move her foot. Instead, she pressed it into his Adam's apple. Any more force and she would crush it. Not only was she smart and skillful, but there was also an unexpected physical strength in her. He was powerless, unable to even lift his arms to try and stop her. She leaned down, licking her lips as she gazed at his struggle. "So, why don't you tell this weak woman who hired you? And where to find this person if you know that too."

"I'll tell you just please, don't kill me. Please, I have a family!" He begged, tears pricking his eyes.

"Hmmm, a family, huh? I wonder what that is like..." She trailed off, looking towards the burning furniture. He screamed as she pointed the gun into his forehead. "Anuh waa ansa dat still." She grinned.

"No, wait! It was Sanka! Mi nuh know weh him deh but mi can find out!"

Joanna froze, not expecting to hear that name. "Sanka? I never thought I would hear that name again. Hmm, good enough."

She pulled the trigger, not sparing his corpse another glance. Instead, she left the house, exiting the smoke like a demon from hell. Her mind was racing with the blaze, wondering how she failed. The plan was flawless, perfect. The car went up in flames. No one should have been able to escape; he should not have escaped. He should not have survived.

Then again, she could try another tactic. One more intimate. She was glad that he hired the hit. Joanna smiled at the opportunity to see him again. Kill him properly... more intimately. 

That's it for Chapter 3. Thoughts? I'd love to hear them in the comments section below. Like it? Let me know with a vote ok. Alright, until next time my lovelies😉🇯🇲