Unspoken Love

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Summary

Damien Esmeraldo is a man of the Organisation. A skilled assassin, a trained hunter, a ruthless murderer playing by the rules of the underworld. A killing machine above all. He's bad news in a package of smouldering grey eyes, raven black hair and a tall, sculptured build that could make just any woman drop to her knees. So when he approached Destiny Lockwood, the latest of his targets, he was confident he'd get the job done as quickly as possible, get what he wanted from her and send her on her way as peacefully as possible, no traces left behind. But things weren't so easy when he met the silent muse. He found that she was particularly distrustful of his motives, dangerously enigmatic and exceptionally attractive. But she was also a job he couldn't risk failing, or his life would fall on the line along with his job. What will Damien do? Could he really risk it all for her? Or would he betray that tiny spark of something between them for the sake of his own safety? Find out! ~~♡~~

Status:
Ongoing
Chapters:
88
Rating:
4.8 79 reviews
Age Rating:
18+

1| ♡ Destiny is mindless

Damien

I contemplated the man’s bleeding, denying gaze. He didn’t meet my eyes; he didn’t speak, he was just dripping in his own blood. From head to toe, he was painted a deep scarlet red. I could tell it hurt.

But he didn’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 needed to know.

Crossing my leg over the other, I assessed him with an air of plain boredom whilst my fingertips stroked the leather of my handgun. I finally looked down at the man, my eyes boring into his exhausted ones.

“If you don’t speak, you’ll be just like the rest.”

I brushed a finger over the trigger and pulled the slide back. The sound of metal echoes between us.

“Useless.”

Then I watched the terror in his eyes as he watched my every movement. Slowly, tortuously. His eyes widened as realisation dawned into him, and his lips began to tremble. It’s a pleasant kind of reaction, I thought. There’s no better reaction than fear. It strangles you in hopeless madness, making the pain that much more acute.

Poignant.

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

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

“They’re all...”

Cold metal touched my fingertips and held. The man's eyes widened in shock as a strangled, choked gasp left his lips at the instrument that I now held in between his eyes.

So, so irritating, those were. But they won’t be for long.

I pulled the trigger.

“Dead.” I whispered at last.

The sound of chains sprawling against the pavement hushed his last, lifeless scream and the noise of the gun as I slowly ascended from my chair. Blood spilt beneath my feet, dampening my shoes. But they were so black, the stain almost appeared invisible.

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 have felt 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 clapped as I closed the door to the torture room behind me. Brown eyes that looked almost feline under the shadows of the hallway greeted me with a playful smile that I had hoped to avoid tonight.

“What’s with that look of disappointment, One? The prisoner didn’t open up, did he?” Her red lips turned upward into a wicked smile, causing me to look away, almost discontented. “They’re the worst type. As loyal as dogs, those men. They make the job boring, don’t they?”

“I’m not up for whatever this is, Zada.” I stopped her before she could say anything else. Feeling more than just a little tired, I tried to take another path to get back to my chambers when brown eyes similar to the ones I just dodged stopped me right in my tracks.

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

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

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

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

But the fucker decided to ignore my silent question and spoke aloud instead, a grin stretching beneath his dark eyes. “He has another mission for you.”

“Another mission?” Zada perked up in her spot, finally leaving her place in the shadows to reveal herself in her fury. Under the lights, her brown eyes lightened, her brown tan darkened, and her straight black hair shined to attention.

“He’s already had twenty-four 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 bluntness never ceased to surprise me and annoy me at the same time.

I turned 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 on to room 97. The hallways were bleak, so dark, even my shadow was hard to catch. But having grown up here, I felt comfortable

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

“Verify Identity,” the taller one demanded.

I did as told, scanning the watch on my wrist. It caused the metal door to fall 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 polished white table. A black 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 couldn’t see him.

But I could hear his words.

“One.”

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.

I’m just a puppet in his eyes, and he’s 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. What play would he have me perform this time? Just the thought of it made my skin crawl.

“I'm here, Master.” I bowed, keeping my expression void of any emotion.

The noise of the creaking chair filled the surroundings, as it spun around and revealed a tall, aged man. His suit was the same colour as his eyes, the same colour as his hair. Pitch black. His face was pale, but the shadows looming over him sharpened every feature, like the edge of a knife. Despite his foreboding appearance, Marcel Bruno carried himself like a noble man.

The first thing anyone would notice about him was the large scar that ran down from his left cheek to his jaw, but that wasn’t the only intimidating thing about him. His eyes, dark and hungry, 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.

So I replied, almost robotically, “I’d like to know what it is.”

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

It was a small picture floating in the air before it landed in front of me. I effortlessly captured it between my thumb and forefinger before looking 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. But her eyes, they made me hold my breath.

There was something painful hiding 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 and causing a foreign candle light up the dimly lit room and the scar on his face, making him that much more fearful. “She's a rather important guest. 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, One.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Master.” I bowed low 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 else 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~

Destiny

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 fragmented 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 any moment now, 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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