Woke Up This Morning And Got Myself A Gun 소설 & 이야기

I said, and almost tripped as my feets kicked against a dark object on the floor. Glancing down at the object brought a smile to my face. "What do we have here? If it isn't the prodigal son" I grinned, bending to pick up my gun that I'd lost the night before. I checked the cartridge and my smile got wider when I took in the bullets still left it. "You should have been with me last night, a lot of bullshit would have been avoided," I told the gun, then reattach it.

Goose bumps raised on my skin for the second time that day, and this time that voice in my head was telling me it was time to grab that gun, just in case. Walking quickly back to my tent, I zipped up the door flap and grabbed the firearm from the bag beside my sleeping bag. Scooting my sleeping bag to the middle of the tent, I sat in the middle of it, the gun in my lap, praying that I did not end up someone’s dinner before dawn broke.

The walls felt like they were closing in. Eventually, I stood up. I walked to the mirror and stared at myself. My eyes were red and puffy. My hair was a mess. I looked like someone who had been crying for days. Someone who had lost everything. I straightened my spine. No. I hadn’t lost everything yet. I went to the duffel bag by the bed and unzipped it. I pulled out the handgun Adam had given me. My fingers trembled as I checked the magazine. Full.

A gun. My blood went cold.

Cas’ pov I woke up groggy as hell. This isn’t my first surgery, but it’s the worst time I’ve been hurt and the first time I’ve been shot. I’ve been shot at before, though, but that’s a story for another time. I’m not sure if I should thank God, if it’s luck, or if the gunman just has a shitty aim, but things could have been so much fucking worse. Not that I could think of any of that in the moment, because I felt drunk and loopy.

I barged into my dad's study and took out a gun that was fully loaded. Tonight was the night I was to become a widower.

I couldn't resist the smile that broke out on my lips. Before I went to him for help, I never thought I'd ever hold a gun. Such a pity I didn't learn this when that damned motherfucker George took my bar… if I did, I would have shot out his intestines and watched him bleed.

In my last life, I single-handedly wiped out a rival gang, winning great honor for the Family. My mother handed me control of her private arsenal, worth hundreds of millions. Before I could even take inventory, the convent orphan my family had adopted quietly changed the codes, and handed the entire shipment to homeless men in slums controlled by our enemies. Staring down my gun, she crossed herself, her face full of pity. "God tells us to love the world, Alessia. Sitting on all those instruments of murder is a sin. I am only atoning for you." I scoffed, but one second before I pulled the trigger, my childhood friend, the Family's top killer, shot the gun from my hand and denounced me as blo

I woke abruptly from a deep slumber as the sound of gunshots pierced through the peaceful night air. Disoriented and filled with equal parts fear and adrenaline, I quickly nudged my husband Theron awake. The urgency in my voice was palpable as I whispered, "Theron, do you hear that? Gunshots!"

Inside the box lay thick stacks of hundred-dollar bills, a gold watch, and a heavy, matte-black semi-automatic pistol. It was a Glock, compact but deadly, the metal cold and heavy against my fingers as I lifted it out of the box. I had never held a gun in my life. The sheer weight of it made my wrists wobble, but the moment my fingers wrapped around the textured grip, a sudden, cold sense of clarity settled over my mind. This wasn't just a weapon; it was my ticket out of the cage.