It Can’t Get Any Worse

WHAM!

Zara felt something metal collide with her body with so much force that she was flung across the road. 

Her head hit the edge of the sidewalk and she could see her blood oozing into the drain. 

The bright headlights of a car screeched to halt just in front of her. 

Zara stood up. 

"Are you crazy?", she yelled. 

A man in a black suit stepped out of the driver's seat. One would have expected him to be scared, but Zara couldn't read any emotion from his blank face. 

"Sorry about that. Let's get you to a hospital. That looks bad."

"No, I'm fine. Leave me alone." 

Zara took a step forward, and her knees buckled. Her head began to feel woozy, and the sight of blood on her white dress made her feel sick. Before she knew what was going on, she collapsed. But the man caught her. 

"Don't worry. You'll be fine.", he said as lifted her nimble form into the vehicle. 

Zara had not noticed earlier, but there was a convoy of black Rolls Royces surrounding them. 

The man who carried her signalled one of his men at a paparazzo perched atop the roof of a building. 

Swiftly, he brought out a gun, a fat silencer covering its nozzle, and fired. The paparazzo dropped dead before he even figured out what was happening. 

The man who seemed to be their leader signalled to another man. 

"Stick around and clean up this area. Ensure no one hangs around enough to begin to ask questions. And leave that body there. I want to set that as an example."

The next day, the police would of course, discover the body, and assume the poor guy went snooping where he shouldn't have been. 

Of course, they would have their suspicions, but not one of them would dare to investigate the most powerful gang in the underworld, or it's ruthless leader, Kai Frost. 

Bertha Drew was very worried. 

It was bad enough that she came horribly late for her best friend's wedding. Now, she had no idea where Zara even was. 

She had arrived at Blake manor. Usually, the guards recognised her as Zara's friend, and would let her in. But now, they claimed to not know who Zara was. 

"Ah, Not available again. Where are you Zara?" Bertha said in frustration at her 50th attempt at calling Zara. It was even worse that not a single person in that disgusting family of hers answered their calls too. 

It was like the girl had suddenly been wiped from the face of the earth. 

"I've told you. We don't know who she is. Now get going or I'll call the police."

The chief security guard told her for the fifteenth time. Bertha remembered how he would catcall and whistle at her whenever she passed, flashing a toothy smile. They weren't even in the same class of society. Bertha couldn't believe the audacity of some men. 

At least then, she was recognised, but now it seemed everyone decided to play a cruel prank on her, including Zara. 

"Maybe Zara's the one punishing me for coming late. Sooner or later, she's going to come out with Collins in a limousine and everything's going to be fine." Bertha said to herself. 

The first thing that got her alarm bells ringing was the blood. 

Bertha's car was parked at the side of the road opposite the manor, a bit further down so there was a walking distance. 

Walking back, she spotted a smear of red next to the drainage. Even though the rain had stopped, it was obvious that most of the blood had been washed away. 

Bertha began to panic. Had someone gotten injured outside the manor? The next thing she saw was even more shocking. 

The manor gates opened to a luxury limousine. Bertha saw Collins through the tinted glass, but the girl at his side was not who she expected to see. 

It looked like Collins had married Ariana instead.

And they drove away like a happy couple running off to their "happily ever after". 

But wasn't it supposed to be Zara that was married to Collins. Just what the f*** was going on?

Bertha sat in her car observing the spectacle, and trying to make sense of it, unbeknownst to the fact that someone was watching her. 

The man Kai had left to cover the area initially wanted to dispose of the girl when he saw her. 

She was poking around too much, and when she eventually stumbled on the blood stain, his fingers were already closed tight on the trigger. 

But his master had taught him that it was better to observe a situation before going in for a kill. 

And that was what he did. From what he could tell, Bertha was just one of Zara's friends, not some reporter snooping around. 

He walked up to her car and tapped on the window glass.