Unspoken Love

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Damien Esmeraldo has been known for his heartless nature and cruel smile. His indifference, however, wasn't a mask. It was who he was, raw like empty paper of an old journal's worn pages. He was a player by day and a cold-blooded killer by night. But what happens when the new mysterious girl with strangely familiar eyes comes to town? Does her silence make him...feel? Do her demons attract his? Destiny Lockwood doesn't speak. She's beautiful but untouchable. She's a puzzle he can't grasp. She's the target of his mission, and for the first time ever, Damien felt a spark ignite in his heart. What could it be? He didn't know, what he did know was that he couldn't afford to fail, or his life would fall on the line. But what happens when complex feelings get in the way of a job? Was she really worth it all? ~~♡~~

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1| ♡ Destiny is mindless


I stare at the man’s bleeding, denying gaze. He doesn’t meet my eyes; he doesn’t speak, he’s just dripping in his own blood. From head to toe, he’s painted a deep scarlet red. I can tell it hurts.

But he doesn’t scream in agony like the rest.

How stubborn.

He’s easy enough to read, easy enough to understand.

Even if I drill a bullet into his skull and leave him crawling the dirt in the pavement, he’ll never ever utter a word. He’ll never say...

What I need to know.

I cross my leg over the other, assessing him with an air of plain boredom whilst my fingertips stroke the leather of my handgun as I look down at the man, my eyes boring into his exhausted ones.

“If you don’t speak, you’ll be just like the rest” I cater a finger over the trigger and pull, “Useless”. Then I watch the terror in his eyes as he watches my every movement. It’s a pleasant kind of reaction. There’s no better reaction than fear. It strangles you in hopeless madness, making the pain that much more acute.


“Do you know what happened to the rest of your men?” I raise the question with dark intent. A smirk finds its way on my lips when his jaw tightens in fury, agitation and pain. What an interesting combination.

“You must know, from that reaction. But don’t fret over it too much,” I remind him with a smile, glancing at the holes that were his eyes. “They’re all...”

Cold metal touches my fingertips and hold. His eyes widen in shock as a strangled, choked gasp leaves his lips at the instrument that I now hold in between his eyes.

So, so irritating, those were.

“Dead” I whisper at last.

The sound of chains sprawling against the pavement hush his last, lifeless scream and the sound of the gun as I slowly ascend from my chair. Blood spills beneath my feet, dampening my shoes. But they’re so black, it’s almost invisible.

Like as if someone didn’t just die. Like as if I didn’t just take someone’s life, no matter how deserving or undeserving it may have been. That man must have been someone’s son, someone’s brother, to someone a father, to another a husband.

But I just killed him.

And I wish I could feel guilt, maybe the tiniest bit of regret, or even sadness for this human being. I felt nothing.

Just emptiness.

A plain old friend of mine.

“Well, well, well. Look who’s here!” a familiar voice claps as I close the door to the torture room behind me. Brown eyes that look almost feline under the shadows of the hallway greet me with a playful smile that I’d rather avoid tonight.

Her red lips turn up into a wicked smile causing me to look away, almost discontented.

“I’m done here, Zada” I interrupt her before she can say anything else. Feeling more than just tired, I try to take another path to get back to my chambers when brown eyes similar to the ones I just dodged stop me right in my tracks.

“Zane” I warn him with a pointed glare. But instead of scurrying away like any other human being with a brain would have done, he laughs.

I close my eyes to keep myself from throwing a brick into his face. I turn to leave instead.

“The Master is looking for you, One!” he calls out when I’m midway out of there. Halting in my steps, I turn around to face him again.

‘The Master?’ I question with my mind, knowing fully well that Zada won’t be able to pick up on our telepathic conversation.

But the fucker decides to ignore my question and speaks aloud instead, a grin stressing his dark eyes. “Yes, another mission probably”

“Another mission?” Zada perks up in her spot, finally leaving her place in the shadows to reveal herself in her fury. Under the lights, her brown eyes lighten, her brown tan darkens and her straight black hair shines to attention.

“He’s already had twenty-seven this month, whilst we only had small flies to take care of! Why can’t we have more fun? Favouritism, I’m telling you!” she complained. Her honesty never ceased to surprise me and annoy me at the same time.

I turn back to look at her twin.

“You said I had a mission?” I asked, grazing my silver tongue ring with my teeth, a habit I developed over the years as I waited for an answer. He nodded and pointed towards the endless hallways.

“He’s waiting for you in room 97. But be careful, he just returned from Russia, the deal with the Mafia leader... didn’t go very well, so he might be in a sour mood”

That was my queue to leave. And I did, leaving the twins to mumble complaints behind my back as I closed into room 97.

Two armed security guards stood at the entrance, their presence a warning and a penance.

“Verify Identity” the taller one commanded.

I did as told, scanning the watch on my wrist, which caused the door to come open, gesturing for me to enter.

The office was dark, almost deceptive. But the moment I adjusted my eyes to the dimly lit room, I could make out a long brown table. A leather chair turned away from my angle welcomed me. The back of a man older than I was, more experienced, more powerful, peaked from the corner, almost bigger than the chair itself.

I can’t see him.

But I can hear his words.


That’s right. I was a mere number in this dark, unknown underground empire. I wasn’t human, I’ll never be. I was a simple number and I could change any second of the day. As quickly as he snapped his fingers. I could fall to disgrace.

But I was One. I was at the top of the chain. A murderer, a killer, an assassin and a monster.

I wasn’t human.

“Yes, Master” I bowed, keeping my expression void of any emotion.

I was a puppet, and he was the puppet master, pulling the strings behind this worldwide crime association that only a few specific people knew about. Important people. People that could tear countries to shreds, build buildings on oceans and bear the weight of the skies on their money mangled heads.

The noise of the creaking chair filled the air. It spun around and revealed a man dressed in black. His suit was the same colour of his eyes, the same colour of his hair. Black.

There's not an inch of him that's not covered in ink.

Blank ink the same colour as the blood running through his veins.

A large scar ran down from his left cheek to his jaw, but that wasn't the only intimidating thing about him. His eyes screamed raw blood-thirst and madness, but it was all disguised beneath the polished black suit he wore.

The devil himself.

"I have a mission for you" He spoke aloud, his words reverberating in the air between us. His lips tilted into something close to a smile when he noticed me watching him closely.

I had to watch out if I wanted to keep my life. My rank will never secure my safety. Hell, nothing in the world could keep a man like me safe. I had to be careful.

"I'd like to know what it is" I replied, almost robotic.

His movements were quick, grand, as he flicked his fingers and a piece of paper appeared in the air.

It was a small picture floating in the air before it landed in front of me. I grabbed it between my fingers and stared down at the image.

Green eyes stared back at me.

There was a girl, a rather beautiful girl, with eyes that reminded me of rare jewels and lips pressed together like as if secrets would spill free if she dared to part them in the slightest.

Something painful behind those tormented eyes.

She reminded me of somebody.

I've seen her before.

I looked up at the Master, already knowing what he wanted.

"Bring her to me," he commanded, snapping a finger that made a foreign candle light up the dimly lit room and the scar on his face, "My men say that she's taking the earliest train to Westbay as we speak. You'll be situated there under a disguise. Don't disappoint me"

"As you wish, Master" I bowed before leaving the room as silently as I entered it.

He hasn't given me any background information or why he wanted her, he never does. He just says and I do. He's the hand and I'm the knife.

I'm the one who watches life after life as it's torn away in front of my very eyes. And what's worse is that I felt nothing for those who died at my mercy, I don't think I'll ever do even if I was the one on the other end of the knife.

Because as I already said, I'm not human.

But right now, what pissed me off more than anything was the fact that he didn't even provide me with her name.

And something told me I needed to know.

~At the same time on another end of another city~


I'm running for my life.

My bare feet on the rough pavement feel like stepping on shards of broken glass. It's like raw flesh grazing broken memories as they fade away beneath my loud footsteps.

I have a distinct feeling that my lungs will burst and my feet will wobble and break beneath my weight, but that doesn't stop me from running on my naked soles. Even with a broken rib, all I do is run.

All I hope for is that nobody’s chasing.

Nobody’s watching.

I can’t be seen.

I’m escaping.

I’m fleeing.

The train is waiting and I’m hurrying to get on, the bag on my shoulder dangling impatiently as the clock ticks away. Passengers are looking for their seats and my wild eyes scan the surroundings till they find 34A. Only when I take a seat, do I stop to catch my breath. And then I glance out of the clear windows one last time.

The spring sunset is a beautiful shade of pink and orange, a bit like serenity in Rockridge. I, however, didn’t find serenity in this little city, I found pain and tragedy.

Now I’m getting out of here, running away from yet another ‘home’. This time I’ve planned my moves better than ever before.

This time, I’ll be gone for good.

I’ve broken the cage and even if I’m left flying with a broken wing, I’m flying away.

I’m free.

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