Chapter 4 Saved By Devil

Steven 

“This is all I got about her, sir,” Ray, my second-hand man, says, handing me the documents.

“Good,” I reply, taking them. Ray leaves.

I flip through the pages quickly.

“She’s twenty, lives with her adopted father after she accidentally separated from her real parents at the amusement park. she's studying at St. John’s College. No boyfriend.”

I chuckle slowly.

“Kyra, you’re living such a boring life,” I mutter, placing the documents on my car seat. I’m about to start driving when Nancy, my maid, calls.

“Your new girl got kidnapped,” she pants.

These motherfuckers. Did they think they could threaten me with that?

“They shouldn’t have done that,” I say, lighting a cigarette and hanging up.

I know exactly where to find these idiots. Thinking they can fool me? They’re dead wrong. I drive like a madman to the CAH Broken Store. At the entrance, a lot of men with guns wait. I smile mischievously.

“Hands up!” one of them shouts, shaking in fear.

“Why would I?” I reply, stepping closer.

“One step closer and I’ll shoot you!” he warns, but I’m faster. I attack him backwards, snatch his gun, and fire. One by one, I shoot them down. When I’m sure they won’t be getting back up, I stride inside.

Mr. Morgan is sitting in a dark armchair, like some movie villain. His men point their guns at me. When I look ahead, I see Kyra tied up to a chair, her mouth taped. She looks at me like I’m her savior angel. 

“You’re here earlier than I thought. She must be special to you,” Morgan laughs maniacally.

“You shouldn’t have done that, Mr. Morgan,” I say, smiling dangerously while lighting his cigarette.

“Ah, you almost scared me, Steven,” he says, still laughing.

“That’s too far, you know,” I exhale smoke.

“You should accomplish that mission, Steven. No one else can do it, only you,” he repeats for the fifth damn time.

“I refuse,” I say coldly, and Morgan’s men raise their guns at me again.

“I’m paying you a lot, you know. Why are you refusing? Besides, your girl here might die if you don’t decide soon,” he threatens, and one of his men presses a gun to Kyra’s head. She looks terrified.

“You’re a bigger fool than I thought. Do you really think you can use the girl to threaten me?” I shake my head.

“I think so. Why else would you be here if you hate wasting your time?” Morgan smirks, confident.

“Exactly. I hate wasting my time.”

Before he expects it, I move. I attack him and press a gun to his head.

“Hands down, or I end the game,” I order his men.

“Ah, just lower your guns, motherfuckers!” Morgan says, shaking. His men obey. Without hesitation, I shoot their legs. Morgan’s mouth falls open in shock. Even Kyra is horrified.

Wasting no more time, I tie Morgan to the chair while he begs for mercy.

I rush to Kyra, who looks like she’s about to pass out.

“Kyra, stay with me,” I say, scooping her up in my arms.

“Untie me, please!” Morgan cries.

I kick the chair and he crashes to the floor pathetically. With Kyra in my arms, I step out to my car.

She opens her eyes and stares at me, shocked.

“Steve…”

“Shh. No talking,” I hush her, covering her legs with my coat as she watches me drive.

When we arrive at my mansion, I carry her straight from the car to my bedroom. I set her gently on the couch and grab the first aid kit. Her legs and hands are injured.

“Give me your hand,” I say. She obeys, still staring at me.

“Only I’m supposed to hurt you,” I add, applying the treatment to her wounds.

“Ah, that hurts,” she winces. I smirk and blow softly on the wound, watching her shiver.

“You’re a stubborn little kitten,” I murmur, staring at her.

“Why did you save me?” she asks uncertainly.

“Because you’re mine,” I say, playfully touching her nose.

“Are you a murderer?” she asks, her eyes wide, like she’s staring at a villain.

“Yes. Why?” I ask flatly.

She shakes her head nervously, pulling away from my hand.

“I don’t kill women, don’t worry. In fact, I don’t kill innocents,” I whisper, her shock still painted on her face.

“When will you return me to Mr. Robert?” she asks nervously.

“Are you afraid of me now?” I ask, smiling mischievously.

She doesn’t answer. She only stares. I chuckle and pull her waist toward me.

“You’re not scared of me. I can tell by the way you look at me,” I say.

“No… I’m scared of you,” she whispers.

“Well, good girl. That’s what I want. I want to give you nothing but nervousness and butterflies,” I whisper, leaning closer.