Submissive Assassin Book 2 (BxB)

Author's Note:

I tried to let these characters go, I really did. But I love them so damn much that I decided to keep writing about them and add a couple new ones. You're welcome!! Also, I know the character Charles was not introduced in book 1 but let's just assume that he existed back then. Anyway, enjoy!

Prologue

The blood smeared across the floor was a habitual sight for all of his men standing within the room. His black boots had crushed the skulls of many, almost to the point that the thrill was no longer enough. A devilish grin widened on his face, and he placed his cigar at the corner of his mouth. Leaning his head backwards, he exhaled the smoke and watched as it clouded near the ceiling until it disappeared.

The lights were dimmed, shadows hiding his face. The tiny light from the end of the cigar was not enough to show true deep scar across his blinded left eye, one that ached whenever it was touched. Regardless, even with only one eye, he was known to be one of most dangerous men in the entire country.

The Black Jack.

His name brought terror across cities, even overseas was enough to cause shudders. Whenever it was mentioned, people made certain to withhold their disdainful tongues, and quietly lowered their heads. The Black Jack was not one to even dare meet gaze, and even the men guarding him, although felt blessed working under him, knew not to make a single mistake around him.

Unfortunately, one of them made a mistake.

"Ah!" Raucous was heard at the corner of the room, and all their heads turned. One of the men was holding his hand to his side, wincing. All of them saw the blood trickling along down to the tip of his fingers. "This bitch just bit me! You little shit!"

The girl in shackles glared at him, spitting the chunk of skin to the side. Her clothes had been ripped, but that did not suppress her grit.

"Fuck you," she spat in his face, his own blood landing on his nose. "You're messing with the wr—" before she could finish her sentence, her face was slammed onto the concrete floor. The sole of his shoe squeezed tightly against her cheek, hearing her shriek in pain the harder he pressed.

The Black Jack did not even glance towards her, rather cocked his head and the men rearranged in a different formation.

"Bonn," such coldness within his tone, enough to cause shivers down one's spine. It was filled with murderous hunger, breathy almost as if it its vibrations dried the skin. "She mustn't be hurt."

She felt the weight on her face fall, and the trooper Bonn rapidly stepped away, bowing forward in respect. "My apologies, Sir Jack."

"Shut up!"

When her scream echoed across the room, all of the men's eyes widened. None of them had ever witnessed anyone yell directly at Black Jack; that was suicide.

"You've had me bruised up already, jackass!" Her shackles cranked against the wall, "Don't you worry, when I'm out of these cuffs, I will knock you out!"

Surprisingly, Black Jack simply chuckled, and motioned towards one of his men. "Tape her mouth; I'm not of a fan of squealing mouses."

"Son of a b—" her lips were sealed, and only her muffled sounds were heard.

After a few minutes, they heard knocks on the door. A voice on the other side said, "Sir Jack, we're ready."

"Bring him in," he grinned, "I'm ready."

One of the men approached the door and pulled it open.

It had been a difficult battle to cease him, but Sir Jack was unable to contain his burst of excitement the moment he saw his men holding another culprit by his arms, dragging him inside the room and throwing him to Black Jack's feet before slamming the door shut behind him.

The culprit wriggled in the shackles before glancing upwards and furrowing his brows when he met the nasty gaze of Black Jack.

"You messed up; getting caught by my men means you're dead meat." His chuckles caused a few men to nod their heads.

The culprit's muffled sounds against the tape over his mouth, and Black Jack ordered for the tape to be removed. When it was, he had not expected for the culprit to burst into hysterical laughter, barely able to breath as he said, "Bwahaha! It's One-Eyed Freak!"

All the men within their room could feel their insides squeeze. A few of them were forcing their own chuckles to remain hidden within their throats, glancing anywhere but the culprit who was squirming on the floor. "You weirdo! When are you going to retire?!"

"Haha!" From the other side of the room, the girl burst into laughter. "You old freak! Go to a retirement home!"

"How the hell did you remove the tape?" Glen cursed under his breath before retrieving the tape and tightly binding it around her mouth.

Black Jack's gaze had darkened. Veins stiffened across his forehead, all of them threatening to explode as he brushed his fingers past his pistol in its holster. He was not a man to be mocked, and the disrespectful from the two brats was going to be an exemplar to his men. Standing to his feet, his lifted his foot in the air and slammed the sole onto the culprit's chest, hearing him gasp for air as he bundled into a ball.

He coughed a few times, feeling burning through his throat but had not enough time to regain his breath since he received another hit. It was the side of his face this time, and it felt as if his entire jaw had been broken, the taste of blood inside his mouth already.

"You think you can disrespect me?" Black Jack ground his teeth together, squeezing his palms into fists. "You think I'll settle for—"

"Just you wait until I'm out of these cuffs, since I will knock you out!" The culprit had shouted terribly loud that a few men covered their ears.

"Hey," the girl smiled, "I said the same thing."

"Great minds think alike," the culprit winked.

Glen threw his hands the air; he was not even going to bother taping her mouth because she kept removing it on her own when no one looked.

They were surprised to find Black Jack being hesitant afterwards, but he soon slammed his foot against the culprit's ribs, which made him grunt as he coughed hysterically.

Then, he reached for the culprit's collar and pulled him upwards.

"After all you've stolen from me, you really think you'll make out of here alive?" There was no fear in the culprit's blue eyes, and he squeezed his collar even tighter. "I've lost too much profit to let you roam these streets; you're dying today. The only time you'll be out of these shackles is when you'll be dead already—"

"Who is going to be dead?"

Black Jack felt his blood run cold. Instantly, there was sweat forming at the corner of his forehead and his fingers began shaking as they loosened around the culprit's collar. Before he could even turn his head, he felt the muzzle of a shotgun brush past his cheek.

"Put him down, Jack."

A shaky chuckle escaped his lips, "Lucius, you know the rules of the underground."

"I abide by my own rules," Lucius snorted, pushing the side of his cloak backwards. "This base is surrounded. Look at your men," he pointed to all of the guards having their pistols pointing towards the ground, "they know not to take me on. Look at the way their guns are shaking — they're scared."

Black Jack did not even have to glance around the room, he knew he was right. "Either you let them both go, or I will blast your head into bits."

"Fine," he dropped the culprit onto the floor, "fine. They're all yours, but don't think this is the end of this. They can't be stealing from us and expect no retaliation—"

"I'll take care of them, I'm out of here," Lucius turned around, grabbed both Natalia Hercules and Charles Kennedy by the back of his shirt and dragged them towards the door.

They could practically feel the heat wave of rage radiating from Lucius' body as he pulled them out of there, which made Charles mumble, "I think I want to stay here with one-eyed freak."

Natalia nodded her head vigorously as she whispered back, "Me too."