Meeting Her.

Chapter 1.

“Let me go!!!”

The painful cry from the frightened Aaron echoed through the air as two heft men dragged him across the dark room while he struggled to pull away from their firm grip. His face is bloody from the series of beatings.

They threw him to the floor, his painful cries, seeming to Drystan, like a melody against his ear.

When Aaron fell to the floor, a feeling of fear cascaded down his spine leaving his eyes frozen as they met with perfectly polished feet that were claded in a black Louis Vuitton oxford shoe.

His body trembled as he slowly lifted his gaze. The sun hung low in the sky, casting its gentle ray through the slightly closed window, adorning the glow on Italy’s greatest nightmare, Alastor Merikh Drystan. The number one killer machine. He is often referred to as ‘The sovereign.’ For a 30-year-old, he had reached quite a milestone.

At age 12 he had knacks for business and he had found so much passion in business as much as he found passion in killing whoever dared the line.

Drenched in the glory of darkness, Drystan was seated on a chair, with his back resting on it, his right leg crossed over the left. His hand held over to the stick of burning cigarettes while he looked away, puffing the smoke into the air, his eyes burning deeply with all shades of unwavering resolve.

For some minutes and seconds more, Drystan held onto the stick of his cigarette, taking heavy drags from it at intervals till it became perks of aches.

The silence that hunted the air like a palpable presence, was suddenly interrupted by the gentle drag of a drawer, and a faint sound of lighter as one of the men lit on the new stick of Cigarette, handing it over to Drystan with a bow. He didn't need to be told to know that Drystan needed another. He took two to three cigarettes whenever he meditated.

With narrowed eyes, he took a drag on his cigarette, visualizing every cry that the helpless Aaron would make when he would drive a knife through his finger, and chop them off, slow and steadily, registering every pain in his body like they were a core course at the college level.

When Drystan was done taking hot drags from his Cigarette, he dropped the bottom on a stainless plate, then leaned closer to the man who was lying helplessly away from his feet.

A shadow smile etched at the corner of his lips as he watched Aaron tremble from the fear of his closeness.

A chilled feeling of superiority gathered, forming a pit across Drystan’s stomach, how he loved to watch them tremble, pleading and crying for mercy that didn't and would never exist within him.

Aaron who was lying on the floor a while ago, trembling for mercy was suddenly quivering uncontrollably as Drystan leaned closer to him, his darkness descending on the frightened Aaron with a force that left him regretting his actions.

For some minutes, Aaron had thought that the silence from a while ago was deadly, but No. The deadliest is being watched by the haunting eyes of Drystan. Eyes that haunted Aaron and sent anxiety trickling through his muscles like grasping fingers against a wall. His stomach clenched, as he struggled to hold in the fear, that this dreadful eyes of Drystan submitted into him.

“Throw him into the turmoil." The command came out, low yet deadly.

Fear rasped throw the old hag Aaron as he took in the words, alongside the warmth of fear.

Before Aaron could say a word of plea, he had been dragged and he suddenly heard his voice in the turmoil, screaming and pleading to be forgiven.

Drystan leaned into the couch with a stick of cigarette to his mouth as he relished in the screams and pleas of the burning Aaron.

His tensed muscles from a while relaxed into the pleasure that the melodic scream submerged into him.

For 17 good years, he had spent a reasonable amount of his time listening to screams, screams that came from the torture he unleashed on traitors, and those screams purified his body and satisfied the darkest part of his soul that yearned for nothing more than, vengeance, justice, and thirst for human blood.

Growing up, he had rules that governed his life and shaped him into the very beast he was today. Beast that he has grown to love. Those rules were inspirations handed to him.

"Bring him out." His single command sliced through the air, submerging with Aaron’s helpless cry of release.

"Poor man," Drystan chuckled. A soft choke that could be mistaken as a frown. He never laughed. There was never a reason to.

His eyes wandered around Aaron’s burnt body. Just what would it feel like to watch the hungry rats feed off his body?

"Tie him up." Just an order from him and a second would not intervene for it to be carried out.

Finally. Drystan stood up, walking towards Aaron who was now tied to a wooden chair. He was barely close to Aaron, yet his height intimidated Aaron as much as his cologne intimidated Aaron.

"Forgive me." The regret could be heard in his voice clearer than the apologies that slipped out of his mouth.

No one messes with Alastor Merikh and goes unpunished, but Aaron still desires to live and tell that tail. Tails of how brutal his encounter with the mafia king was.

With Drystan hunting eyes glaring at the trembling Aaron. He stretched his hand and one of his men dropped a knife on it, bowed, then stepped back.

Aaron froze at the sight of the knife, he swallowed in, trying to moisten up his already dried throat, as he looked from the knife to Drystan’s face, clearly frightened. But the look on Drystan's face remained unfazed as he relished on Aaron’s trembling shoulder.

"Please... Please, don't kill me."Aaron’s voice came out shaky and his lips trembled with obvious fright.

Drystan stared at Aaron for a fleeting second then scoffed.

He leaned in, and gripped the arm of the chair, towering over Aaron’s trembling body, while his blazing eyes flickered with darkness that haunted Aaron.

A shadow smile that adorned the room with extra darkness secured the bream of Drystan’s lips.

"Kill?"The smile on his face vanished, within microseconds.

"Killing you would be too easy. I would rather chop every bit of your finger and listen to your excruciating screams. Then leave you to the hungry rats to merry on.”

Aaron’s eyes widened as he took in Drystan's words, but before he could say a word, he felt the piercing of a knife against his opened palm.

Numbness washed through him, as the arrival of sharp pain rippled through his body, followed by a loud wail and bulging eyes.

He watched Drystan's with tears-filled eyes. There was not a smile on Drystan’s but his eyes held satisfaction. The satisfaction that Aaron’s wail brought to him.

"No one! Absolutely no one steals from me."

With every word that left Drystan's lips, he stabbed the knife back into Aaron’s hand.

Rage filled him, as he desired to do more, to chop his balls and feed them to him, to dip this knife into Aaron’s eyes and leave him with just one eye, but he vented the rage into chopping Aaron’s fingers off his hand, bit by bit, loving the scream that emerged from the depth of Aaron’s throat. The wail, the struggle, the sight of Aaron’s veins as they stretched out in agony. He loved it, Drystan loved every bit of it but he didn't stop till he was done chopping Aaron’s hands off his wrist. He looked back at his body, he was covered in blood, Aaron’s blood.

An exhale escaped his lips as he stared at the almost lifeless Aaron.

"I have not permitted you to die yet, Aaron. I still desire a taste of your blood and the blood of your existing relatives."

“Release the rats and let them merry till they are satisfied.”

With that being said, he dropped the bloody knife on the floor, took a handkerchief, and cleaned his blood-stained body before walking away, with a few of his men trailing behind his back, the same way Aaron’s painful scream followed him till he was away from the building. Building that provided him peace.

*****

For the 4 times today, Alactor’s phone rang and the caller had not changed.

He looked away from his phone, taking a glimpse of what the road looked like. His jaws tightened as he sat impatiently in the car, waiting for one of his errand men to return with the order he had placed. He was just some ride away from the airport.

Unpopular occurrence, but his eyes caught the sight of a lonely lady. No. A stranded one. Blonde hair, average height, slim thick, with a combination of sky blue and ocean green, Doe eyes that sank him in. She stood at the front of her car. An old vintage Fiat, constantly glaring around the sides of her car.

Drystan looked away only for some seconds before he returned his gaze to her direction, again. She looked drop-dead gorgeous than any other human was permitted to look in a jean and satin milk-colored top that had a circular design revealing a glimpse of her cleavage.

His muscle, clenched, subconsciously. He reached a hand for his button and let loose of it, revealing a clearer view is his Jaw.

Drystan swallowed in as the rain began to pour heavily, wetting her satin top and revealing an unhinged sight of her braless nipples, as she hugged onto her arms, trying to find herself a shielding spot. Strands of her ponytail hair, scattered across her face, seething through him, the desire to grip her lengthy blonde hair and have her from behind.