5-Holding His Big Gun

Lavender:

Shaking and panting, I forced my body up and stepped out from behind the couch. There was no point in hiding and provoking him.

Now that I could see the whole scene before my eyes, I wanted to gag and run out of the room. But I couldn't—he wouldn’t let me.

He was sitting on the couch, one arm stretched over the backrest while the other—his bloodied hand—held a cigar.

A man was dying before him, yet it didn’t seem to affect him.

Nothing did.

Not even the fact that his once-white shirt had turned red from the man’s blood.

It was clear—he was the reason behind the man's condition.

"Sit." He moved his outstretched arm to pat the seat beside him.

I hesitated before sitting down, keeping a safe distance from him. But the smell of blood mixed with the smoke from his cigar made me nauseous.

I was already weak from the blood transfusion, and this sight was only adding to my anxiety.

"This man tried to run away from me," Nikon said in the calmest, most chilling tone. "See what happened to him." He set his cigar aside and slid closer.

I sat up straight—almost too straight—my hands stretched out on my knees. I was shaking like never before.

If words could describe how terrified I was, there would be an entire book filled with them.

"Just like you were trying to. But that’s the difference between family and someone like him. Now, I wouldn’t beat you up like that, would I?" He leaned into my ear, making my soul leave my body as his sharp accent and deep voice sent shivers through me. "I wouldn’t. But only if you agree to be part of the family. Such privileges are only for family, Lavender."

"You said the choice is mine," I whispered, not even turning to look at him. My eyes remained fixated on the dying man before me.

"But every choice has consequences," he muttered.

My gaze drifted to his hands. One rested on his knee, his black ring glinting with blood smeared across his fingers. He tapped them casually while speaking.

"Family, sister, is the only thing that stands between power and ruin. A strong family makes you untouchable. A weak one? It crumbles, leaving its pieces for the world to devour.” He spoke like a criminal, that’s what he was. 

"You think you can run? That you can pretend none of this concerns you? Let me tell you what happens if you do." He took a deep breath and exhaled before continuing.

"Your mother—sweet, naive woman—will be the first to fall. Without my protection, she’ll be swallowed whole, left begging for my mercy when you know I have none. And your sisters?" He paused before finishing. "I will make sure you never get to see their bodies."

I jumped to my feet and turned to him, watching as his eyes bore dead into mine.

"Now, what is your decision?" he asked again, sliding a hand behind his back and pulling out a gun, checking it nonchalantly.

"I will—stay," I uttered through a dry mouth.

"Good! I expected a wise decision. Good. Now! Why don’t you have mercy on him for me?"

He slid closer, wrapping his arm around me like a massive storm cloud swallowing me whole. It was a sudden move that left me paralyzed.

Then, he placed the gun in my hands, shaking me back to reality.

"Sister, this man is dying, but it's a slow and painful death. Don’t you want to give him mercy?" He lifted my hands, his voice low and deliberate from behind me.

Tears blurred my vision as he aimed my hands at the man and adjusted my finger on the trigger.

"Don’t worry, you’re only helping him."

He knew exactly what he was doing.

The moment he pulled the trigger, I broke down, sobbing.

He pulled away and sat down on the couch before he leaned back against the couch like there wasn’t a lifeless body before us.

I had never held a gun before. Never hurt anyone.

This moment would haunt me forever.

"Parker! Take my little sister to her new room," he ordered.

"Don’t disobey me. Save yourself from situations like these," he stated coldly before his man walked up to me and snatched my bag from my grip.

I wanted to get away from him as fast as possible, so I hurried behind Parker, keeping my eyes down to avoid meeting the gaze of his intimidating men.

"That’s your room."

Parker stopped in front of a staircase leading to the attic and shoved the bag back into my hands.

I didn’t ask any questions. I didn’t complain, even though I hated attics. Instead, I ran straight up.

Before heading to bed, I pulled out my diary from my bag and charged my old phone on the broken table next to my bed.

Having a roof over my head was a blessing—I didn’t deny that.

But I hated that I had to share this roof with a murderer.

Then my mind drifted to my hands.

They trembled miserably, disgust creeping through my veins as I realized—I was one of them now.

I had killed someone.

I reached for my anxiety medicine, and shoved it down my throat with water. 

While sitting in my bed, I noticed a notification pop up on my screen. My hands trembled at the caller ID.

Creepy Stalker: You think you can change homes and I wouldn't find you. I will find you and very soon, you will be in my arms.

My body shuddered in disgust. The creepy man had been stalking me for months now. He would send his weird messages and dirty things to my workplace or home.

I looked around at the walls and sighed, “Maybe Nikon is right. There is no place else for me. I do deserve a family who can protect me.”

One single text from this creepy man made me realize how important it was for me to have a safe place. Maybe it wouldn't be that hard to be part of the mafia family. As long as I mind my own business, I can live here. I will just hope my obedience will make my brother Nikon not involve me in his dirty business again.

Nobody will dare mess with the mafia’s stepsister.