Page 57 of I Promise You
It’s a pistol pointed straight at his head. I react. The only thing youhaveto do in these situations. Spend one fraction of a second too long in thought, too long in decision-making, and you’ve sealed your fate. You are hammering the nail in your own coffin.
You hesitate, you die.
You think too hard, you’re dead.
Something I’ve been slowly teaching Ari. I’ve been giving her lessons on self-defense ever since she was attacked, teaching her my ways to defend herself and how to shoot a gun if it ever came to it.
I grab the handle of my knife tucked into my kit. It slips out of its case like it always does. I flick it fast and quickly, aiming for his arm.
The sound of a knife pierces through his bones, puncturing him to the wall.
Target hit.
I’m not surprised. I never miss with my knife.
His gun gets tossed into the air from the forceful impaling, steamrolling the bullet to shoot the ceiling instead of Rooker’s head.
The man completely misses Rooker—a man saved.
Rooker flinches, bewildered, when he realizes what happened. He catches his breath before turning his rifle on the threat.
“You just saved my life for the thousandth time.” He huffs a short, grateful laugh.
But I’m emotionless.
I don’t feel shit.
Rooker puts his finger on the trigger, getting closer to him, ready to eliminate the threat, but I stop him.
I motion for him to stop. He nods in recognition. He’s always been my right-hand man. He knows every single one of my moves.
I stalk toward the man with fast, long strides, my boots hitting the ground hard, making deep thuds.
He’s mine.
He can’t die, though. We need information.
“Fucking shit!” the man yells in pain, panicked, staring at his wounded arm. My knife hit his arm so fast, deep, and forcefully that he’s pinned to the wall. The blade is holding him there like a hostage.
I smirk in satisfaction when I hear him cry out in pain. I love it when they do. He was about to kill one of my brothers.
It’s pitch black. Little light illuminates the room, but I know he can see me. Rooker shines a light on him and he watches me, instantly growing pale. He keeps trying to grab the handle out ofhis arm. His speed at detangling himself from the knife increases the closer I get to him. But he fails and winces every time he pulls, and there’s no outrunning me.
The blade pierces his flesh every time he tries to bolt, attempting to untether.
I’m close now, looking down at him, amused at his pathetic attempts. Even if he frees himself, he will never truly escape.
He shakes when he realizes I’m here with his incoming doom. Sweat has broken out all over his forehead, and little sniffles whimper out of him.
“It’s you.” He inhales sharply, his eyes circling so big I can see every little vein in his eyes.
I scoff.
I get in the man’s face, squatting.
“You’re Death. You’re…you’re the one who killed Omar’s son, you’re—”
He’s quivering, sweating, and trying to swallow his trembling saliva through shaky, fearful breaths. His words barely come out of his mouth as he stutters on each word.
