He never forgives
1110 Words
Dressed in an impeccably tailored tuxedo, a man strode into the grand main hall of the hotel with an air of authority. His confident and dignified manner caught the attention of everyone present. Heads turned one after another, drawn to the spectacle he created, until finally, all eyes were focused on him, unable to look away.
There was something about him that commanded attention, an aura of power and authority that emanated from his presence. With each step, the ticking of his black shoe resounded through the hall, a constant reminder of his domination. He made his way towards a table and took a seat, crossing his legs in a relaxed manner. Four guards, all with guns, stood behind him.
“Abraham … why did your father kill our pack member?” The man was impatient, his tone filled with accusation and urgency. Abraham raised his eyebrows at him.
"Who gave you permission to question me?" he demanded, his words laced with authority. The question hung in the air, causing a visible unease to ripple across the foreheads of those who dared question him.
"You hold control over the entire dark world, Abraham. Your influence extends to every city, including Ottawa. We have gathered here today to determine whether we should yield Ottawa to you or fight to retain the rest of the country." He dared to speak again. The room fell silent, waiting for his response.
"Yes, that is what he is saying, Abraham, you cannot kill anyone like that."
At the voice of the third man, John stared and saw this man with pity while Abraham was still busy with his hobby, he was swinging his feet badly and a black stick was still ticking on the cold floor!
With a composed demeanor, he picked up that stick, raised his eyes and saw those three men. His ocean blue eyes held an enigmatic blend of calmness and coldness, a mysterious combination that struck those who observed him as peculiar.
A chilling smile spread across his lips as he raised his stick, directing its deadly intent towards one of the numerous people surrounding him. Fear and terror emanated from the unsuspecting victim. In a swift and merciless instant, the individual collapsed to the ground, his white shirt now saturated with blood. The sight of the pooling blood elicits anguish from the witnessing girls, their tears welling up in response to the heart-wrenching scene. Meanwhile, the smile etched on Abraham's lips only deepens, casting a sinister shadow upon his countenance.
How did that bullet come out of his black stick? Maybe no one there had the answer and that was the special thing in that dawn of the dark world.
There was fear in the magnificent hall of the hotel, so that the faces of the people standing there were white with fear. That hall was drowned in laughter before Abraham's arrival, and now there was fear.
Fear!! That was a characteristic of Abraham's personality!!
Fear!! that Abraham liked!!
The same fear that he used to fill in with others because of his presence!!
He got up from the chair. The empty hall echoed with a sense of foreboding, as if it knew what was about to transpire. Abraham stood alone, surrounded by an invisible wall of hostility. The hundreds of faces glaring at him were filled with venomous intent, their eyes burning with a desire for his demise. They wanted to kill him, but despite all this, not a trace of fear could be seen on his face. The reason was not because of his brutality, but because he had an eye on his activities while living in Ottawa. He was so intelligent.
He liked to see others in fear. There was no one born who could frighten him.
"Do you still want Ottawa?” He walked away and sat back on the chair.
"Ah. Forgive us. Abraham." The three men staggered forward with fear and were about to run when Abraham stuck his black stick at their feet, and all three of them fell at their feet.
Grinding his teeth, his face was as hard as rocks, looking at the three of them with fiery eyes, he said in a horrified tone.
"Listen carefully, no one can take even a small piece of the land of Ottawa from Abraham. Ottawa is mine and what is mine may be destroyed, but it will remain mine." He spoke in a sarcastic tone. He had one foot on the man's shoulder. The ocean blue eyes shining through the glasses were strangely cold.
"Ottawa belongs to me. There is only one Lord, Abraham." He tripped the person and knocked him backwards, about which the two people sitting on the ground were scared.
"From today, rather than from now, everything will be under my control." He stood up and spoke in a loud voice, in which people standing there looked at him in surprise. They all wanted to deny his words, but none of them had the courage.
"Anyone who wants to show hospitality should be cut up and thrown on the streets of Ottawa so that the whole of Ottawa will know how good Abraham is at hospitality." His tone was full of cold ferocity and John was shaken.
"You have all grown old, pay attention to your wives and children, earn rewards, get all out here, otherwise my hospitality is very famous." Putting his hand in his coat pocket, he took out his gun and, without giving anyone a chance to understand, he killed those three men, who spread fear everywhere. He smiled slowly, now there was a glow in that smile, a bewitching glow.
"Abraham knows how to cut those who don't bow." He spoke in a dangerous tone.
He was Abraham, undoubtedly, an attractive person that if one saw him once, he would probably think about him hundreds of times!! But he was so dangerous and cruel that no one dared to speak in front of him.
"Abraham, we have to leave. Your father is waiting for us. He said it’s urgent." John bowed his head and spoke in a polite tone. When he did not get an answer, he looked up and saw his stick; he was about to bend down to pick it up. That was when Abraham's black stick quickly stopped his hands from doing so!!
"Don't touch my things or you'll have to spend the rest of your life without hands." He spoke in a cold tone. John’s breath stuck for a moment, but he knew that everything he owned was dear to him. He was a crazy person, at least that's what he thought.
- Writer
