Zinnia
Each one of Roman’s steps into the lion’s den matched with my racing heart. The room was dimly lit, and I think it was deliberate choice meant to make anyone standing before Roman feel small. But they didn’t know that I wasn’t just anyone. Not anymore. Roman’s face comes clear before me. He gave a smile that screamed shock and amusement as he leaned back in his chair, legs crossed. His cold eyes raked over me.
“Well, well. If it isn’t my favorite my little flower. Reed’s slutty cunt.”
I didn’t flinch, didn’t let him see the way his voice sent ice through my veins. Instead, I cocked my head, arms crossed. “I was never his anything.”
Roman hummed, unimpressed. “That so?” He gestured to his men to help me to sit. I didn’t. His smile widened. “Still got that bite. I wonder, though-does it still come with a spine, or did Reed break that along the way?”
“I broke myself,” I shot back, letting steel edge my words. “And I put myself back together.”
Roman chuckled, shaking his head. “Cute. But let’s skip the theatrics, shall we?” He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “You come crawling in here, claiming you’re done with Reed, but you expect me to take your word for it?”
I swallowed down the nerves clawing at my throat. “I didn’t come here asking for your trust, Roman. I came here because I want Reed to burn.”
His expression didn’t change. He just studied me, tapping his fingers against the armrest. The silence that followed was heavy and suffocating. After what seems like forever, Roman sighed and stood, closing the space between us. I fought to keep still as he circled me, his presence like a blade pressed against my skin.
“Tell me, sweetheart,” he murmured, his breath ghosting against my ear. “What did dear old Reed do to turn his little flower against him?”
I forced myself to meet his gaze, letting old wounds bleed fresh in my mind, letting myself feel the betrayal I was about to sell. “He used me. I was never anything more than a pawn to him, a tool to get what he wanted. He used me as a tool to lure you out and now that I am damaged goods, he abandoned me. I want to return the favor.”
Roman studied me, and for a moment, I thought I had him. Then he sighed, shaking his head. “Nah.”
My stomach dropped. “What?”
“You see, the thing about people like you, Zinnia, is that you don’t break that easily. Not without a push.” His eyes darkened, his amusement fading. “You expect me to believe that you-who clawed her way back from hell, you who, kept on crying and believing Reed would come for you, you who have proven with words and actions that you would take a bullet for Reed without a second thought-just woke up one day and decided to switch sides?”
I clenched my fists, nails biting into my palms. “Believe what you want, Roman. I’m here. That should be enough.”
Roman smirked, his head tilting as he considered me. Then, as if coming to a decision, he turned and snapped his fingers.
The door behind him swung open. Two men dragged someone inside, tossing him to the floor at my feet.
I barely swallowed a gasp. It was Dr Jacobs. Reed’s friend. The doctor who basically nursed me back to life. His face was bloodied, bruises painting his skin. He groaned, blinking blearily at me before recognition flickered in his swollen eyes.
“Zinnia?” My heart pounded against my ribs. This wasn’t part of the plan.
Roman tsked. “Dante here has been quite loyal to Reed. Wouldn’t you say? I hear he even took care of you after you escaped from me.” He stepped closer, placing a heavy hand on my shoulder. “So, here’s how this goes.”
I fought to keep my breathing steady as he pressed a gun into my palm, his grip unyielding as he curled my fingers around it. The metal was cold, a stark contrast to the heat of his body behind me.
“You put a bullet in him,” Roman murmured, his voice dripping with something sickeningly sweet. “And I believe you.”
I didn’t move. Dante’s breathing was ragged, his chest rising and falling. He wasn’t just some disposable pawn; he was part of our crew, part of the fight. And now, Roman wanted me to prove myself with his blood. Seconds dragged into eternity. The weight of the gun in my hand felt unbearable. Roman’s patience, however, was not limitless.
“Tick tock, my little flower,” he murmured, stepping away, but not before trailing a finger down my spine, a silent reminder of what I would endure and the power he has. “Or do I need to remind you what happens when people disappoint me?”
I forced myself to take a breath. Think. There had to be a way out of this. Dr Jacobs’s gaze locked onto mine, a silent understanding passing between us. He knew. He knew what this meant. My hand trembled as I raised the gun. Sweat slicked my palm. My pulse roared in my ears. Roman watched, his smirk widening.
I had one shot. One chance. I inhaled sharply. Then, without warning, I squeezed the trigger. A loud bang. Blood splattered across the cold concrete floor.
Dr Jacobs crumpled.
Silence.
Roman let out a low whistle, slow applause echoing in the dimly lit room. “Well, well. Maybe you do have some bite after all.”
I forced myself to keep breathing, to keep standing as the scent of gunpowder clung to the air. My fingers were stiff around the weapon, my heart hammering so hard it hurt.
Roman stepped closer, gripping my chin, forcing me to look up at him. “I think you and I are going to get along just fine.”
I didn’t flinch. Didn’t react. Because I couldn’t afford to, not when Dante’s pulse was still faintly beating beneath his bloodstained skin.
I hadn’t missed. I’d just barely kept him alive.
Hopefully, Roman doesn’t decide to finish my task.
________