HIS RUTHLESSNESS

He returned his attention to his phone, his expression grave. One might think he was hacking into a secure system, but in reality, he was lost in a game.

Amy was still on the floor, her eyes locked onto him, trying to process the cold wickedness she saw. “How can someone be so cruel and nonchalant?” she thought, her gaze drawn to the piercing glint of metal in his brows.

Her eyes flicked to her uncle, who lay on the ground, weeping and begging for mercy. Then her attention turned to Rita, groaning in agony, pale and drenched in blood.

Tears flowed from Amy’s eyes again as memories of laughter and shared moments with Rita flashed through her mind. “Is this how I lose her?” she thought, despair tightening around her heart.

Suddenly, she dropped to her knees, allowing her fear to dissolve. “Pl…please let th…em go,” she stammered, rubbing her hands together in desperation.

His gaze shifted from the screen to her, eyes piercing and filled with cold detachment. The silence stretched, an electric tension hanging thick in the air. After what felt like an eternity, he smirked—a devilish grin that sent chills down her spine. It was clear he thrived on fear.

“Game over,” he declared, his smirk fading. He raised his phone, turning the screen towards her. “I lost. I never lose, but you just had to open your darn mouth!” His voice dripped with anger and annoyance.

In an instant, he rose from his seat, and Amy’s eyes widened as she watched the embodiment of evil stand.

“I was going to play a game with them, but now you’ll be playing too,” he said, his expression shifting to something more articulate and menacing.

He turned to one of the other figures cloaked in black, surprisingly a woman, who approached with a purposeful stride. “Get the rope and tie them up separately,” he ordered, and without hesitation, they began their grim task. The ropes tightened around Rita, eliciting a scream of agony as the coarse fibers dug into her wounds.

“Arghhh! Please, stop! It’s painful!” she cried, her voice raw with anguish. Amy could hardly bear to look; she buried her face in her hands, weeping uncontrollably, feeling utterly powerless. Her uncle groaned in pain as he, too, was bound tightly.

Once they finished, they dragged the two of them to the center of the club. Rita’s cries reverberated within the walls as they secured her in a grotesque display, ropes tying her up like an unwanted gift. The pitiful scene struck hard.

Turning back to Amy, he said, “You’ll stay locked up in here with them. In your next life, pray to be born without a voice.” Each word pounded in her chest, heavy with the weight of his authority.

Amy felt like she was drifting in a different realm, consumed by a maelstrom of emotions. Her heart ached watching the two people she loved suffer, tears streaming down her cheeks as despair wrapped around her like a vice.

“Finish up,” he commanded and exited the club, his minions trailing behind. The sound of a lock echoed ominously as they shut her in with Rita and her uncle.

Outside, one of his men approached him, hesitating. “Boss, should we finish up now?.”

In a flash, he pulled out his gun, pointing it directly at the man’s face. “You want me to repeat myself?!” he thundered.

Realizing the gravity of his mistake, the man dropped to his knees, his forehead kissing the ground. “Please forgive me, boss!” he stammered, panic lacing his words.

“Leave now,” He said curtly, and the man scrambled away, desperate to distance himself from impending doom.

They began wetting the building in gasoline—walls, windows, doors, even the ground. He settled into his car, lit a cigarette, and started smoking while watching like a predator. When they finished, they ignited firebombs from all angles, and flames erupted, devouring the structure.

Inside, Amy fought against the bindings around Rita, desperation coursing through her veins, but the ropes were unforgiving. She switched to her uncle’s restraints, but they too refused to budge. “Hurry up! This place is burning down and we are all gonna die in here!” her uncle shouted.

She was confused. Panic surged as she noticed smoke curling in around them, the air thickening with suffocating heat, and her uncle started coughing.

She dashed to her room, returning with clothes to use as makeshift masks. Tying them around her face, she hurried to her uncle, covering his mouth and nose, then did the same for Rita, whose consciousness was slipping away.

The fire spread quickly, cracking the ceiling overhead. As beams began to fall, one struck her uncle, igniting a blinding agony. “No! Get it off! Noooo!” he screamed, his voice a heart-wrenching cry.

“No!” Amy’s eyes widened, fear seizing her. The fire started spreading to her uncle's body and his cries increased. “No, no”. She rushed to Rita, desperately trying to free her once more. And then an idea struck her. She grabbed a piece of burning wood, she carefully maneuvered it to cut the ropes binding Rita.

After about a minute, the fibers sizzled and snapped under the heat and hope ignited within her as she fought against the raging flames surrounding them.

Amy’s heart raced as she scanned the room, desperately searching for an escape route, but it felt like a cruel joke, there was none. “Arghhh!” she cried out, clutching her head in panic.