✦━━━━⛧━━━━✦
More than anything, he couldn't bring himself to betray the trust she had given him.
She had lowered her guard around him without the slightest hesitation.
If he repaid that by trying to manipulate her, even under the excuse of doing it for her sake, then he would no longer be worthy of that trust.
"Is that the place…?" Seraphine's voice pulled Ashen from his thoughts.
After countless twists and turns, they arrived at a seedy little pocket of the city; the kind of place that smelled like stale beer and singed wood.
It was tucked away at the very edge of the brothel district, just outside the range of respectable human activity.
"Yeah, this is it…"
A smirk sharp enough to cut glass curled Ashen's lips as he shoved the creaky door open. Glee practically vibrated off him, barely restrained vengeance coiled tight beneath the surface.
Trailing behind, Seraphine, glorious blonde hair bouncing, curves swaying, looking more like she was heading to a picnic than walking into a den of filth. Hazel eyes wide with curiosity, entirely too entertained by all this.
Ashen caught her in the corner of his eye and reaffirmed the obvious: she had no business being here.
But she had muscled her way into his plans with all the grace of a retriever crashing a funeral, so really, what could he do?
'Focus, focus…'
Inside, the sight that greeted them was nothing short of revolting.
Chris—Mr. White Knight himself, the academy's resident douchebag with a halo he polished in public and a dick he buried in private, was still mid-thrust.
Humping away at the poor hired girl beneath him, who was probably counting ceiling cracks to stay sane.
No gang in sight. Of course not. Even the most loyal of lapdogs wouldn't follow him into his filthy little secrets.
The prostitute Ashen paid off had done her job well, luring Chris here with a flutter of lashes and a promise of discretion.
'I've been stalking this prick for days, mapping his every move like a goddamn cartographer, and tonight's the payoff…'
Fish on the hook. Time to reel.
Ashen strode forward, grabbed Chris by the scruff of his sweaty neck, and yanked him off mid-pump with a wet schlop.
"F-FUCK!! WHO—?!"
Chris barely had time to register what was happening before Ashen sneered down at him, voice dripping venom.
"Well, well, Sir Galahad," he drawled. "Saving damsels by day, humping 'em by night; multitasking's a bitch, huh?"
"FUC—BASTARD, LET GO!!"
Chris flailed, pants still tangled around his ankles, face contorted in shock and fury. He looked like a startled ferret caught raiding the pantry.
The prostitute scrambled out, clutching her clothes, leaving the three of them in this glorious, unsalvageable clusterfuck.
Ashen pulled out his knife and pressed it to Chris's throat, freezing him in place, his face paling at what was going to happen next.
But then, he hesitated.
While the blade gleamed under the dim light, his hand started shaking, minutely at first… then more, like a leaf caught in a storm.
Chris saw it. The horror on his face faded just enough for his flapping lips to make things worse.
"…What? So you're a pussy after all?" He barked a laugh, breathless. "Haha—never killed before, virgin boy?"
BAM!
His only response was a fist to the cheek, sending him flying into the wall.
Ashen followed, stomping him twice for good measure.
But he didn't come here to beat Chris senseless.
He came to kill him.
The problem?
He had never done it before.
And the thought of Seraphine… sweet, ditzy Seraphine watching him gut this bastard made his stomach twist.
'What if she freaks?'
He flicked a glance at her.
'What if she bolts and I'm left with a corpse and a crying woman?'
Maybe he should just knock Chris out and call it a night. Let the bastard live with the shame of getting caught balls-deep instead.
What Ashen didn't clock, though, was that Seraphine was not some fragile flower about to faint.
Oh, no… this woman was a cupid's grenade wrapped in a cheerleader's smile.
She wasn't scared.
She was pissed.
Chris had tried to kill them. But more importantly, he had tried to kill Ashen—her man.
It didn't matter how he went about it; sneaky, indirect, poison, whatever. At this moment, all Seraphine had on her mind was murder.
She stepped forward, all sugar and venom, tilting her head playfully.
"Ohmygosh, Ashy, you're so slow! Can I twist his nuts counterclockwise first? Pretty please?"
Her voice was sweet as honey, but her eyes gleamed like she was about to carve a Thanksgiving turkey.
Ashen froze. Knife still hovering.
Brain short-circuiting.
"…Wait, what the fuck did you just say?"
Chris was whimpering now, dick flapping in the breeze, as he begged for mercy like the spineless toad he was.
"Please, man, I didn't mean it—don't let her near me!"
Too late, buddy.
Ashen didn't even have time to process before Seraphine was already rummaging through her purse, humming a little tune.
Humhum~♪
A second later, she pulled out a pair of scissors.
"…Sera," Ashen asked, despite already knowing the answer, "why the fuck do you have those?"
She giggled, twirling a blonde lock around her finger. "For crafts, silly! And, y'know… snipping bad guys!"
"…"
Fuck it.
*
"ARGHHHHH—!!"
"N-NO PLEASEE!!! I'M SORRY—!!"
"AHHH—!!"
"FUCK YOU BOTH, PSYCHOS—!!"
Slickkkt.
"UGHHHH—"
The room turned into a tableau of chaos.
Chris, half-naked and sobbing, screamed every time the sharp edge of scissors or the cold bite of a knife found his flesh.
Meanwhile, Ashen was caught between holy shit, I'm a killer and holy shit, Seraphine's a psycho.
At least one of them was having a good time.
Seraphine beamed like she was about to win a bake-off, with Chris's balls as the prize.
Outside, the city buzzed on… oblivious to the carnage unfolding behind these rotten walls.
Ashen finally lowered the knife just as Chris's screams petered out, exhaling through his nose. "Screw it. I'm not cleaning this up."
Maybe having a partner in crime left him less shaken. At least enough to still be cussing and joking through it.
He grabbed Seraphine, who looked down at her broken scissors like a child whose toy had snapped, and pulled her toward the door.
One last glance at the wreckage—
The room looked like a discount horror flick.
Solution?
Burn the whole place down.
As for whoever dealt with the aftermath?
Not his fucking problem.
"This night just went full Tarantino," Ashen muttered under his breath.
Seraphine, now clinging to him, sniffed into his shirt like a proper damsel; perhaps only now realizing she had just carved someone up.
"…What?" she murmured.
Ashen glanced at her, then shook his head. "Nothing. Just wondering how you stole the whole show, you bubbly butcher."
A sharp pinch to his ribs made him grunt.
"Ash…" she pouted, batting her lashes. "Can't you see how impacted I am? You insensitive prick…" She burrowed deeper into his side, playing up the frail maiden act.
Ashen gave her a long look.
'No. No, I cannot see it. Sorry.'
His mind replayed the way she had gutted Chris like a prize turkey.
But saying that aloud? Probably not wise.
"Well…" He sighed, rolling his shoulders. "Just think of what happened as a bad movie script."
Seraphine peeked up at him, lips curling. "Oh? You'd be the brooding antihero protagonist, then?"
'Whatever floats your boat…'
Ashen rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure. And Chris? He's the dipshit who'd die in the first act if the budget wasn't so low."
Seraphine giggled. "Mmm, what do you think the movie title would be?"
Now that the bloodbath and burning building were behind them, she was chatting like she hadn't just gone full psycho five minutes ago.
Ashen stretched his neck. "Academy kids playing murder in the brothel district while the city sleeps! What a fucking circus."
"Pfft—" Seraphine snorted, giving him an incredulous look. "That's way too long!"
"Well, I've been told naming things isn't my forte."
…
The two of them walked under the night sky, slow and unhurried, clinging to each other like a devoted couple.
Not like two murderers who had just torched a brothel.
And really…
One could only wonder who'd be next on the chopping block when these two lovebirds realized they were both nuts.