He smiles.
I scream.
"You son of a b***h!"
There's no bullets in it.
The f*****g gun has no bullets.
Fucking asshole!
He had me fooled the whole time.
His hand grips tighter in my hair and he stands up, covering me with his full imposing height.
I stare at him, my head tilted back, his fist forcing me to look at him.
"I'm not your pawn, not your lackey either," he whispers.
"No, not mine, but Demyan Ivanov's."
"You know nothing."
He grips more of my hair, gathering an abundant amount in his fist, making me pull my head back painfully.
"What is it I don't know, Killian, how do you shelter under the tree that shades you the most?"
He doesn't respond to that, just brings his free hand back and grabs his second gun, then points it gently at my head.
"No bullets either" I gu
