Classified || 2 || ✔️ mature

07 | Lilac

The one pristine white gown that adorns my body is now stained with blotches of red wine.

Oh, and a lot of blood.

The graze on my stomach screams as if it knows it's been thought of.

One of the bullets the men had fired at me had hit the mark, barely.

But it still hurt like a bitch.

The bullet went clean through, yet there was still a small noticeable chunk out of my waist. The asshole.

Glass crunches under my pointed stilettos. The shattered mirror carpeting the floor and coating the bar I'm currently taking cover behind. I rip my mask off and throw it over the counter, happy to be rid of the feathered monstrosity.

Another bullet hits the wall in front of me, plaster dusting the ground softly.

Taking a deep breath in, I slowly release it and stand from my spot behind the bar, firing off two rounds into the mostly empty room.

The only people remaining are those cowering under the tables as I scan the area.

The floor is littered with glass.

And a dead body or two.

Possibly three.

Okay there's nine.

I smile as I catch sight of one of my pursuers dead body close to the entrance, bullet between the eyes.

I check the surroundings but there's no sign of my father's body.

Pity.

I swing myself over the counter and land swiftly on the other side. I quickly scan for my target but there is no sign of him either.

I dart to the side and creep along the wall before pushing open the first door and throw myself through it.

I rush down the staircase in front of me, round, and round until I hit the bottom.

Crashing through the ground floor door noisily, I hope it leads to an exit onto the street.

An alarm blares as the door slams behind me, rows and rows of cars fill my vision.

I run between them, trying to find an unlocked one that I can hotwire or find the exit to the street so I can run.

The sound of a door crashing open echoes in the silent parking garage save for the sounds of my steps. I'm far enough away so I can't see who it is that follows me but that also means they can't see where I am.

I bend and remove the heels from my feet, throwing them under the closest car and bolting between two more. The dress snags along the ground and I crouch between two other cars, slowing my breaths so I can hear my pursuer.

Silence.

I take the opportunity and retrieve the knife from my inner thigh, cutting the once gorgeous dress until it's short enough to run and move around in. I might have cut it a bit too short. But whose complaining?