Ch. 2
There was a lot of blood. My hands were covered in it, and it refused to stop. It continued to pour from the hole in his chest, and despite the pressure that I applied, it just wouldn't stop. But despite all that loss, he refused to die. He just stared at me not with hate or with fear. He stared at me as if I were the one about to die.
"They should be here soon," I said as I continued to press my hands against his chest. "Any minute now."
"If you didn't fuck up, we wouldn't be in this situation," he snarled.
"Maverickā¦"
"Don't call me by my name, princess."
"How about calling me by my name? Nobody's said my name in the last few years."
"Few years," he laughed. "He didn't know about you until you were nine, and now you're twelve and a half pounds of useless waste."
"I'm thirteen," and I stormed away from him.
"So, what? You're going to leave me here to die," he yelled after me.
The meet had gone wrong. They were planning a double cross. I had made my way as a smooth talker, but they knew that I would be unarmed. And they weren't. If it wasn't for Maverick, I would be dead. Instead, we were hunkered down in some broken, metallic shed, and it was scorching outside. If Maverick had the strength, he would hurl me outside to roast, which would be a nice change to sleeping in the rain.
"I asked you a question, princess," he said as he pressed his own hands over his wound. He was leaned up against the wall, and his black uniform was soaked in red. "How about you just kill me? Oh, wait. You don't like guns," and now he aimed his gun at me. "Give me a reason," he said.
"If you hate me so much, then why go with me? Why save my life?"
"Because he asked me to," and the gun never wavered in his hand. "I warned him about you, even with the medical tests proving that you were his, and your mother keeping you a secret for nine years. I told him not to trust you. You don't fear him. Do you?"
"No," I said.
"You hate him," Maverick said, and it wasn't a question.
"It goes beyond hate," but then I regretted saying that.
"You're just like your mother," Maverick snapped.
"My mother was no saint, but she was good to me. At the end of the night, I had a bed, clothes and food. My fatherā¦"
"Don't call him that," Maverick ordered, and the gun still remained in his hand.
"He treats me like a dog."
"And there will come a day, where you will need to be put down."
"Is today that day," and I stepped closer to him.
"It should've been," he responded.
"So, go ahead. Do it."
"Don't test me. If I don't make it, then you need to."
"Why," I asked him.
"So that he can take his men and slaughter those that betrayed us."
"You would think that he would tire of all his bloodshed."
"He's no saint," Maverick said, and then he paused for a long moment. "Neither are you."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning that if you don't die, he will, and I'm his right-hand man. And if I survive this, I will kill you. Maybe, not today or tomorrow, but I will kill you."
"You stupid shit. I was the one that dragged you out of there. I was the one that got you here, and I was the one trying to save you. I should have left you to die," and I heard the click. But his gun was empty. "I thought that today wasn't that day."
"I changed my mind," and he threw his gun to the side. "Talk to me like that again, and I will kill you with my bare hands."
"Go ahead and try, sweetie. I'm right here," and I laughed as he struggled to stand. But for a moment there, it looked like he had found the strength to crawl back to his feet, but then he fell back down onto the ground. "Didn't think so."
"If you weren't such a princess, you would kill me," Maverick said.
"You know, I really hate that all of you call me that," I said.
"Then, be a man, and kill me."
"You would like that. Wouldn't you," and I inched closer. I looked over at the empty gun. Then, my eyes moved over to the toolbox nearby. It would be easy. I knew that, but I couldn't do it. "No. Pass," and I moved over to a broken window, feeling the heat on my face.
"You won't do it not because you can't, but because of him. What will you say to him? How will you explain my death? What punishment will await you for fucking up at the meet and with me? Maybe, just maybe, he will finally kill you," and I looked at him when he said that. "Do you think that he loves you," and he started to laugh.
"I know that he doesn't," and in the distance, I could see smoke rising. They were coming, and when they got here, they would save him. But what about me?
A moment passed. I realized that it was quiet. A cold chill settled upon my neck and slipped down my spine. Was he standing behind me? Was this it, the moment, where I died? Instead, I turned toward Maverick, who remained on the floor, looking up at me with a smile on his face. He thought he got the last laugh in, but he was wrong. In the end, I would be the one laughing.
