Hazina's Revenge

Chapter 1 - The Storm Rages On

“How many times are you going to ask me the same damn questions? This is nothing but a big waste of time! My fiance is missing, and my parents’ killer is still out there! I need to find Tristen now!” I roared, unable to contain my frustration any longer.

It had been hours since we arrived at the station. During that time, all I did was answer one stupid question after another, and I was beyond fed up. All I wanted was to feel safe in Tristen’s arms.

“Apologies, Miss Cleaver, but I must ask again… Is there anybody else who might know where we can find your fiance? I’ve tried everybody else on this list, but nobody has seen or heard from him,” Sheriff Carlisle explained with an apologetic expression on his face.

I slammed my palms down on the top of his desk and angrily growled, “No! That is everybody! I’m done with this s**t!”

Before he had a chance to say anything else, I jumped to my feet, knocking the chair backward and headed for the door. I was about to reach for the doorknob when the door flung open.

“Sir, reports are coming in about a shooting on the northeast side of town,” a black-haired officer informed Sheriff Carlisle.

“Do we have any more information about the incident yet?” the sheriff questioned.

“No, sir,” he answered.

“Get units there now!” Sheriff Carlisle ordered, then he focused his attention on me and insisted, “Miss Cleaver, I can’t in good conscience let you leave. Not until we determine whether or not you are a target.”

“You can’t force me to stay! If you aren’t going to look for Tristen, I will!” I sassily retorted before walking out of his office.

However, I didn’t get very far before two well-dressed men approached me. They were both wearing black suits, and they looked like they could be spies or something.

The one with dark brown hair and light green eyes flashed a badge at me and professionally stated, “Hazina Cleaver, I am special agent Dante Wilson. This is special agent Bruce Jacobs. We are with the CIA and need to ask you a few questions.”

Agent Jacobs looked even less friendly than Dante. He had jet-black hair; beady, dark blue eyes; and a scowl that could intimidate anybody.

“I don’t have time for this s**t. I need to find my fiance,” I grumbled in total frustration.

“We have reason to believe you are in grave danger. This conversation cannot wait,” agent Wilson insisted, but my focus was no longer on him.

Halfway through his sentence, I thought I heard my best friend’s name mentioned by one of the nearby police officers, drawing my attention to him. I watched the officer walk to Sheriff Carlisle’s office and immediately followed him, making the CIA agents have to follow me.

When the blonde officer with dark blue eyes stopped in front of the Sheriff’s desk, he rushed to say, “According to the first officers on scene, there are two victims. Preliminary reports suggest the female victim’s name is Estella Buford. We are still waiting for the name of the male victim.”

I felt my heart flutter and grasped hold of my chest, as my best friend’s name echoed in my head. First my parents. Now my best friend. Both were murdered on the same day, and Tristen was still out there somewhere. Missing.

After dropping to my knees, I hysterically wailed, “Please, tell me this is not really happening! It can’t be true! It just can’t! Estella has to be alive! I can’t do this without her! Tell me she’s still alive! Tell me!”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Sheriff Carlisle muttered, walking toward me.

Loud, anguished sobs made my shoulders heave up and down. Deep down in my gut, I just knew the next bad news would inevitably be the murder of my fiance. It was news I couldn’t just wait around to hear.

A few minutes passed by with Sheriff Carlisle squeezing my shoulder for support. During that time, I shed a lot of tears while coming to the conclusion that I couldn’t stay there any longer and simply wait for that bad news.

Once I got my emotions somewhat under control, I jumped to my feet, then I sprinted out of Sheriff Carlisle’s office, pushing the CIA agents out of my way. As I sprinted toward the exit, I could hear my name being shouted, but I ignored everybody’s protests and ran out of the building anyway.

My hair whipped around in the wind, as rain and hail pelted me in the face, but my adrenaline was running high enough to keep it from bothering me or deterring me from what I set out to do. Luckily, I was in great shape, having kept up with a regular exercise routine.

I sprinted in the direction of Estella’s house, holding my hands just above my eyes to shield them from the hail. Lightning flashed all around me, as thunder rumbled nonstop, but I was too amped up to let it scare me.

After fifteen minutes of running without a break, red and blue flashing lights appeared in the distance. My heart began racing faster, as I closed the distance between me and those lights, knowing damn well what I was in for.

Officers surrounded what I assumed to be Estella’s body, so I pushed my way through them, then I stopped dead in my tracks, taking in the scene in front of me. “Tristen!” I shrieked before taking a few steps to get to him and dropping to my knees.

I rubbed my hand over his cold, wet cheek and cried, “Don’t leave me, Tristen! Please!”

It was pointless to think he would just come back to life, but it was the only thing I could do at that moment. I couldn’t accept the fact that I had lost him, too, despite the lifelessness in his light brown eyes.

All of the people I was closest to had been taken from me way too soon, and I wasn’t able to cope with so much tragedy. I threw my body over Tristen’s lifeless body and cried for the love that had been stolen from me.