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Assassins: Warfare

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I stumble around the kitchen limply and my feet drag behind me.

Fluid oozes out of my nose and colors my teeth a dark shade of crimson.

I grimace in unfathomable pain and grunt painfully to cope with it.

As my eye sockets clench together, my pupils blur and twitch.

I slam my hand on the kitchen counter for balance and grimly grip the edge.

“Zayn sit down NOW!” Sally says after bursting through the front door.

I shake my head and refuse Sally stubbornly as I try to lift myself.

The action fails epically and inevitably causes me more pain.

I try again but Sally grabs ahold of me and shoves me into a chair in the middle of the foyer littered with debris.

The floorboards are torn-up, strewn across and all over the house as well as several shards of shattered glass.

Spencer knocks the door down in violent haste and rushes to my aid.


Spencer rasps a hand through his shaggy head of hair and shakes my shoulders to gain my focus; my vision dances around like pixelates that emanate from glimmering fluorescent lights. “She…” I pause.

I stutter from the increased rate of my heart and pant to catch my breath.

“SON!” My father hollers.

“Bro, are you okay? Where’s Anastasia?” Spencer asks me again.

He also grips my jaw to steady my face when my back gives out on me.

I fall further to the ground and squeeze my eyes shut to gain some control.

“She-she was-“ I stammer again and pause to breathe. “She-“ I cut myself off.

“Sally call nine-one-one!” Spencer hollers and she runs for the landline.

She picks it up hastily and punches the numbers on the operator menu.

“SOMEBODY CALL AN AMBULANCE!” Spencer exclaims authoritatively.

“Anastasia-“ I pause.

“Ana was-“ I stop speaking and my breath stoops inside of my chest.

My sternum heaves up and down, combating against my lungs.

“Ana was kidnapped,” I finish saying and croak out as I fall with a thud.

“ZAYN!” Sally shrieks with concern heavy in her tone and rushes to my aid.

I curl into a ball on the floor and clutch my limbs in the fetal position.

I grit my teeth as the bloody liquid seeps out of my gums and colors my teeth.

My face scrunches, contorted by pain and the torment of emotion.

“Zayn?” Spencer asks me quietly and grasps the back of my head.

“Zayn?” Sally asks beside me and grasps the left side of my face.

My head circles around in a nauseating form as the room does too and the chandelier up above me blurs.

The lights now resemble tiny diamonds, which dazzle and flicker blindly.

“Can you tell me what the hell is going on?” Spencer asks me again.

I breathe in deeply to endure the battlefield coursing through my being and try to pull my head up but fail to look at him.

Instead, my neck drops, and Sally's eyes deepen with worry over me.

“Ana’s been kidnapped!” I exclaim loudly over my unsteady chest.

Spencer's eyes widen drastically and his jaw drops followed by a gaped mouth.

“SHE-WHAT?” He asks loudly in return and I manage to pick myself up.

Spencer swoops his right arm under mine and props me up. “Zayn. you need a doctor-“ I cut him off.


I shove Spencer’s hands off of me and limp back to the kitchen; gripping the counter.

Sally attempts to engage when I ward her off with a firm hand. “I’m fine,” I say.

“Who kidnapped Anastasia? I want everyone on this NOW! FIND HER!”

I demand in an authoritative tone and my expression displays fury.

The veins in my neck protrude against my skin as annoyance passes over me.

My pupils become drastically dilated by adrenaline and I inhale deeply.

“DON’T JUST FUCKING STAND THERE!” I yell at my employees standing in the foyer mindlessly and my body twitches.

They all scatter like cockroaches and scurry to their work posts.

“Zayn sit down,” Spencer says and yanks me by the collar of my shirt, then throws me on the sofa forcefully. “I don’t want to sit down! I want to find Anastasia!” I yell.

I attempt to shove him back when he twists my wrist and pushes my chest down.

“YOU WON’T BE ABLE TO IF YOU'RE DEAD!” Spencer barks at me.

I give him a cold, seething glare in return, but he stares in return, so I sigh and reluctantly let the doctor tend to my wounds as I remain seated on the couch.

“It’ll be sore, but you should be fine for now. Don’t mess up these stitches,” the doctor says to me and wraps me in bandages after cleaning up the dried fluid.

He gets up from kneeling and leaves the house with his medical bag in hand.

“Let’s go find her now,” I say to Spencer and stomp down the hallway, passing a room cluttered with computers.

“Do we have anything yet?” I ask one of the employees whose busy typing away.

“At the time she was kidnapped, we found the car and have been tracking the traffic cameras, but somewhere along the line they took a turn into a tunnel and we haven’t been able to track her since,” the woman explains to me.

“I want forensics to scan the crime scene in the kitchen and dining room for evidence of the attacker. They could have left traces of DNA,” I reply and instruct her, then I march to my office in a haste and swing the doors open violently.

Both of my parents jump up in surprise from the loud bang as I stomp to my desk.

My mother stands up as she folds her arms in an attempt to subtly greet me and coughs to clear her throat.

“Mother. Father,” I say and acknowledge their unwarranted presence.

I drop into my seat and grab my gun from underneath the desk.

I place it on the table and watch my dad gulp as he grasps the back of his neck.

My mother noticeably quivers at the sight of the beast whereas my facial expression is neutral and remains unfazed.

"We're here to help son,” my father says and reaches his hand out, but I slap it away and lock fierce gazes with him.

“You better watch yourselves. I won’t hesitate to kill either of you if you had anything to do with Anastasia's kidnapping. If you mess with my woman- if any harm comes to her- I swear I’ll put you in a grave before you can even think about death,” I say to the both of them.

I also threaten them through rigid, gritted teeth and flex my jaw upright.

My father appears petrified by this accusation whereas my mother scoffs and laughs to herself. "Sure son,” she says.

“Z-Zayn. I’m your father. I would never-“ I cut him off and stand up.

I shut them up by firing a shot into the air as smoke emanates from the chamber.

I make direct eye contact with both of them and narrow my gaze peculiarly.

“I don’t care if your fucking Cruella De Vil. This is the mafia and I don’t trust anyone. Not even my parents-"

“Boss!" One of my employees exclaims and interrupts me mid-sentence.

I rush to the electrical room to find forensics analyzing blood on a piece of broken glass.

“We found this. I’m sending it over to the testing lab immediately,” the woman explains and I nod in return, then I turn around in search of Spencer.

As I do this, I hear loud, bulky footsteps behind me creeping up.

“Son. I’m only trying to help-”

I cut my father off once I recognize the male voice and grip his arm, then twist the limb behind his back and he winces.

After, I secure a firm fist around his neck and inhale sharply. “S-s-s-son…” he stammers and trembles below me as our faces are only inches away.

“I don’t give a fuck about you or what the fuck you have to say. You never cared about me then, so why do you care so much now? Is it because I have a woman by my side that you think you can manipulate into believing you are nothing more than a good-for-nothing piece of shit who cared more about wealth and alcohol than his son? Well, I’ll have you know that she is far smarter than you believe and she’s a survivor. So whatever fucking game your playing it won’t work,” I tell him.

I snap my jaw shut as my mother’s sharp voice whines in the distance. “PUT YOUR FATHER DOWN NOW!” She shrieks with a pair of horrified eyes, except her attempt at being authoritative is a fallacy considering the fear evident in her shaky voice.

“Number one...” I begin and pause.

In a swift motion, my father falls and I snap in my mother’s direction.

She hurriedly backs against the wall just as I come face to face with her.

“Number one: stop trying to be the mother you never were. Number two: I’m the boss around here, and thirdly, stop trying to act like some saint that you never have been and never will be,” I say to her directly.

“Boss we’ve located the car Ms. Taylor was taken in!” My employee interrupts us and I shift my attention to him.

I rush over to the computer station and glance at the computer screen.

I frantically search for a red dot on the screen and he clicks away.

“There sir,” he says and points to a blinking dot between two highways.

"GEAR UP!” I exclaim, then snatch Spencer’s gun from its holster and penetrate both of my mother's kneecaps.


She shrieks and falls immediately, yelling too as she clutches her wounded knees.

“This way I’ll know if you had anything to do with Anastasia’s kidnapping,” I say to her and kneel to grip her jaw.

Mascara stains her cheeks as tears streak down her face, which is petrified.

“Throw her in the basement,” I say and instruct my men as I turn my head over my shoulder to give my father a different command. “You’ll stay here in case anyone comes. Got it,” I tell him.

He frantically nods his head and I shift my attention to Spencer.

"Spencer. Let's get my angel back,” I declare and grab my firearm.

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