KISS ME KILL ME;HIS ENEMY HIS OBSESSION

Elira's POV

"No... No," he whimpered. He was on his knees, hands shaking in front of him like he was saying a prayer. Tears and snot poured down his blotchy face, the sharp smell of piss already staining the air around him. His suit, once pressed and smugly tailored, was now wrinkled and soaked.

Pathetic.

I stepped closer, the soles of my boots clicking coldly against the stained warehouse floor. He flinched at the sound.

"Please—"

Wrong move.

I raised the gun.

The barrel met his forehead. I saw my reflection in his teary eyes and watched his face drain of all colour as I smirked. I pulled the trigger. The first bullet cracked his skull, filling the silent room with sound. Blood painted the wall behind him in red splatters. His body jolted, and he fell to the ground with his eyes open.

Then I emptied the rest.

Chest. Shoulder. Gut. Neck.

By the time I was done, there was nothing recognisable left above the collarbone. Just a lump of torn meat and shattered bone.

"Clean it up," I yelled at my subordinates.

"Yes, ma'am!" Three of my men rushed forward, slipping a body bag off their shoulders. They didn’t flinch. They’d seen worse. I made sure of that.

I turned away, already done with the mess. The stench of blood clung to the air. I hated that smell. Always had.

I walked out of the room, throwing the empty gun in one of the bins that sat by the way and took off my gloves, throwing them alongside the gun.

As much as I knew the blood I had on my hands, I felt freer after disposing of any evidence that I had killed someone. Hypocritical, I know but it helped me feel better about myself.

Out in the hallway, the lights flickered. My heels echoed as I made my way through the compound, passing steel doors, armoury rooms, and offices guarded by my best men. Every person I passed nodded, greeted, and stood a little straighter. Not out of respect. Out of fear.

Good.

I was not here to be liked.

My empire stretched from smuggled weapons in the Balkans to insider trading in the heart of Manhattan. Every deal, every body, every coin flowed through me. After my father was taken out, I rebuilt it from the ashes. Bigger. Stronger. Colder.

And unlike the old bastards who thought a preppy, good girl like me couldn't run this whole show, who'd run this place to the ground, I didn't make room for sentiment.

Except for Lucifer.

I pushed open my office door and was immediately greeted with a soft meow. The black cat sat on my desk, licking his paw, tail flicking. His emerald eyes locked onto mine.

"You’re the only man who gets away with attitude around here," I muttered, stroking his back. He purred, head-butting my hand. My expression softened for a breath.

Only he got to see that part of me.

My gaze shifted