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BANG
The man in the chair shook at the gunshot, staring in fear at the revolver. Cellinia kept watching from the sofa, barely flinching.
“Feel like talking now?” the Sankta glared at the man, stepping over the blood seeping onto the floor. “Or do you wanna end up like your little compatriot there?”
“I-I promise, I don't know where the shipment went! I just do the leg work, I’ve got no idea what anyone else does!”
“You’ve got ears, don't you? People give you orders, and they have names. Or are you all just thing one and thing two?”
“J-John Johnson. Some Victorian guy, I don’t know!”
“John-” the sankta grabbed the man by the neck, putting the revolver against his head. “You feel how cold that metal is!? Do you think this is a joke?”
“No, I- he gave us money! For the job! Under the, the floorboards, under that sofa. It’s in there, take it!”
“Do you have any idea how much, we lost, that doesn’t mean shit! I want-”
“Enough.”
The Sankta backed off, letting Cellinia walk past. She crouched down, watching the man for a second. “John Johnson, huh?”
“Y-yes! That’s right! Feline, dark brown hair and some shitty stash! Wore sunglasses!”
…
“Undo the rope,” Cellinia stood back up, straightening her jacket.
“Celli, he might-”
“He’s telling the truth, Dania,” Cellinia watched the man stand coldly. “He knows nothing.”
“Oh, oh thank you, ma’am!” The man grasped Cellinia’s hands, shaking them furiously. “Thank you, I won’t forget this.”
Cellinia smiled, walking with him to the door. “I’m sure you won’t.”
He continued to thank her as they walked to the door, and he took hold of the handle. “Thank-”
…
Thud.
…
“He might have known something, Cellinia.”
“Nothing of worth,” Cellinia sheathed her sword, poking at the head on the floor with her boot. “Other than our faces.”
“Right.”
Cellinia looked down at her wrist for a moment. Blood on her cuff. “Check the floorboards for the money. See if there’s anything we can track in there, notes, the case itself, I don’t care. I need to clean this off.”
“You heard the boss!” Cellinia stepped over the body, walking down the corridor to the bathroom. Tapping her wrist constantly as she went, trying not to look at the shadows. Struggling to open the door, she closed it quickly, gripping the handle shakily as she locked it behind her. Once she was sure it was locked, she went over to the sink, gripping the porcelain edge. She could feel the man’s eyes staring at her coldly, accusing her. But she had to, she had to show she was a Texan, that she wasn't weak. She had to make a point. But he kept staring at her and staring and staring and staring.
Frantically, she pulled the pouch out of her pocket, unwrapping one of the sticks with shaking fingers, and sticking it in her mouth. As she chewed, the sweet taste touched her tongue, and soon the shaking subsided. As soon as the chocolate touched her tongue, she couldn’t feel his stare anymore.
The shipment of the stuff has lost them thousands. This was the 5th time now in the area, and whoever this Victorian was, he was a threat. Whether he was muscling in on their territory with all the Victorian refugees settling in the area, or just trying to start up his own empire in what was left of his home with their goods, he was a threat.
But that didn’t matter right now.
As long as she kept chewing, nothing mattered.