Chapter 11 Eleven
Mira’s body reacted before her mind could catch up.
She screamed.
It tore out of her throat, raw and sudden, echoing through the empty hall.
Her chest heaved as she stumbled back, her eyes locked on him.
Salvatore didn’t flinch.
Didn’t react.
He just looked at her like she was mad.
For a second.
Then he walked past her like she wasn’t even there.
Like she didn’t just see him with an axe and all bloody.
Mira stood frozen, her breath uneven, her heart still racing hard against her ribs.
She turned and looked at his back as he kept walking then her eyes caught the trace of blood dripping on the ground then she her gaze dropped to his hand then she saw it.
A goat. Dead.
Its body hung limp, blood dripping slowly from its neck, leaving a trail behind it across the polished floor.
Mira felt her stomach turn.
Her throat tightened.
What the hell…
She looked back at him, her mind trying to catch up with what she was seeing.
“Does he go around killing animals too.. what the hell?” She thought
Her thoughts suddenly get cut off.
As Salvatore stopped.
Then he turned back. His eyes found hers again… cold holding no emotion.
“Come with me.”
Just that. No explanation. Nothing.
Mira didn’t move.
For a second, her body refused.
Her eyes dropped again to the floor… to the blood trailing behind him… to the goat in his hand.
Her throat went dry.
Every instinct in her told her not to follow.
But a stubborn voice told her to suck it up and follow.
She swallowed hard.
Then slowly… she stepped forward.
Following him.
Watching the blood drip with every step he took.
Mira followed him down the hall, keeping her distance as much as she could in case she needed to bolt out when the need came.
Her heart is still beating fast.
Salvatore didn’t look back at first.
He just walked.
Bare feet silent. Blood still marked the floor behind him in faint streaks that disappeared into the marble shine.
The smell hit her next… she nearly threw up.
Her stomach tightened again.
They reached the kitchen.
A large, almost clinical in its perfection. Stainless steel counters. Dark cabinets. Everything is too clean and perfect, just like any killer.
Salvatore stepped inside setting the goat on the white kitchen counter..
Mira stopped at the doorway.. she didn’t dare set foot inside.
She held her breath… breathing here felt like he could hear it and probably chop her head off.
He finally glanced at her. Just once.
His eyes were steady, unreadable.
“Give me some minutes while I clean up,” he said flatly. “Don’t leave.”
Then he walked past her.
Mira reacted instantly, stepping back so fast her heel almost caught the edge of the floor. She nearly fell. He didn’t give her a glance he just walked down the hall leading to his bedroom.
“Don’t leave.”
That was not a request … but a command.
She stood there for a second, staring after him like her brain was trying to reboot.
Then her thoughts started running wild with crazy thoughts.
Why did he tell me not to leave?
Is this a trap?
Isn't this how people in murder stories disappear? Politely told to “wait” before they die?
Her fingers tightened at her sides.
She glanced down the hallway once.
Then back the other way.
“Nope,” she muttered under her breath. “I am not built for mysterious mansion deaths. I'm way too young to die.”
Another pause.
Her eyes popped out of her hand in her hair.
“What if I leave and he comes back like—‘Where did she go?’ and I become a missing PR assistant headline?”
She swallowed.
“…I don’t even think like my job that much to die for it.”
Then.. Salvatore reappeared.. now in a clean black polo. No blood on his face. He just walked past her again without glancing at her. Then something intoxicating hit her… his cologne.
A citrus smell with a woody and slightly smoky, smell. It hit her in waves, subtle but impossible to ignore.
Mira sniffed him without realizing. Then she straightened immediately.
The black polo that fit him tightly, like it was made for his body alone. It pulled across his shoulders and chest, showing those perfect abs lines.. without him even trying. He looked too hot… that any girl would want to rip off his shirt.
Mira shook her head.
“Delete that thought girl.” She muttered to herself “Except you want to end up dead like the rest.”
Mira, however, didn’t move from the doorway.
She stayed exactly where she was.
Like if she stepped in, her chances for an escape if everything went south would be slim..
Thankfully she did a little kickboxing and Taekwondo if he tried anything stupid she wasn’t going to go down without a fight
Inside, Salvatore picked up a knife. And slice the goat open.. like a pro
Mira’s eyes slowly dropped…. To the goat
He was dissecting the meat.
In a calm, steady slicing like he had done it a thousand times before.
Mira stood very still at the door.
“…his,” she whispered to herself. “Really good at this..”
She pause.
“…too good .”
She didn’t leave. Didn’t move closer either.
Just stayed there.
Watching him like she was trying to decide which was more terrifying..
the blood outside…
Or the man calmly cutting off meat like a professional butcher
“Are you going to keep standing there?” Salvatore said without looking at her. His voice was deep, and calm.
“Come inside, Miss Zoss,” he added, finally glancing at her. The knife in his hand lifted slightly, pointing in her direction. “I won’t hurt you.”
Mira swallowed hard.
“Very reassuring,” she said, forcing a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I take it you’re a man of your word.”
He didn’t respond.
Just turned back to the counter and kept cutting.
Mira hesitated at the door for another second… then slowly stepped inside.
Not very close.
Just inside enough that she could still see the exit if she needed it.
She sat down on one of the chairs, keeping her body stiff, eyes fixed on him.
Salvatore worked in silence.
His hands were steady.. he was impressively good. The knife moved like it was part of him, cutting through the meat without hesitation.
Mira watched, unable to look away.
It wasn’t just what he was doing.
It was how calm he was doing it. Deboning like he had been doing it all his life.
Very experienced.
“You must really love to…” she started, then stopped herself.
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she searched for the right words.
“Love what?” he asked without looking up.
Mira leaned back a little in her chair, still watching his hands.
“To do this,” she said, nodding toward the meat on the counter. “At… 2 a.m. It’s quite a sight.”