Chapter 14: Wolf In A Sheep’s clothing
The warehouse was a slaughterhouse, its air thick with the reek of blood and scorched metal, the floor a grisly screen of crimson pools and mangled flesh.
The leader’s corpse lay at the center, his head a pulpy ruin fused with another’s, bone and brain matter splattered across the concrete in a grotesque fusion.
No one was left alive and even the most seasoned killer, hardened by years of blood and betrayal, would have shown some flicker of emotion after such a massacre: a tremor of guilt, a spark of rage, or the thrill of dominance...But Mika?
He stood amidst the carnage, the bone, gripped dagger in one hand, and cast a glance at his blood, soaked clothes with a scowl of pure annoyance, like he’d stepped in mud.
"Ugh, what a pain." He muttered, his voice laced with exasperation, as if the slaughter was a chore gone wrong. "I’m drenched in this crap. Blood’s all over my face, my jacket, hell, I reek."
He swiped a hand across his cheek, smearing the crimson, and grimaced at the sticky residue on his fingers.
"Charlotte wouldn’t come within ten feet of me smelling like this. She’s probably think I rolled in a butcher shop." He shook his head, flicking blood from his hand with a disgusted snort. "Next time, I’m bringing a damn raincoat. No way I’m getting soaked like this every time some morons need dealing with."
He then surveyed the carnage, his shoes squelching in the blood as he stepped over a severed limb.
"Look at this mess." He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Do I just leave it for the rats, or clean it up myself? Probably easier to—"
His words cut off abruptly as all of a sudden, out of nowhere, a searing heat erupted before him, two massive fireballs roaring through the air, aimed straight for his face.
They moved too fast to dodge, too fierce to brace against, and before he could utter a sound, they slammed into him with a thunderous boom.
"Boom!~"