The Bodyguard

Confrontation

(I have reopened my Quotev account, not really sure why, but I did, so if you want to take a look on there it is the same extension (@FetchingAilurophile) it has some of my older really shitty books so have fun with that one)

Emilia froze immediately, she wanted to scream that that was not her name, that  it is Emilia Heart, she is not a Delmont and she never will be. But she has the very odd feeling that at this particular moment, it is not nearly as important as doing as told so she doesn't end up dead.

"You don't want to go through with this."

The voice, one that had given her comfort and explained the world away, is now filled with so much rage that it has her trembling where she stands, more than she had been previously. Her eyes are focused on one spot on the wall. It wasn't a particularly interesting spot, a rather cute pattern that goes very well with the cafe's decor. It had very bright colors for being wallpaper and rather busy, but not unpleasing to the eye.

Her entire focus is on that spot, refusing to close her eyes or turn, she did not want to see her own death coming towards her, so she simply will not look. Holding her breath, she slowly drops the sweater in her hand ending in a very soft thud on the carpet, her hands raised on either side of her head slowly, and she knows that her hands are shaking.

"I believe I do want to this my good man, I need a bargaining chip, and here is the perfect one, innocent, cute, and very obedient." The voice taunts dishearteningly. It twinges at her fear, turning the edges alight with rage, but she can't do anything about it, any self-defense she knows is for when she is grabbed, not when the opponent is several feet away with most likely a gun,

Her suspicions are confirmed as there is a soft click, something much too familiar to her ears now. The cocking of a hand gun. Swallowing hard, she finally decides to speak, to ask the much too important question, "What do you want?"

She hated the question, it is so open ended, and implied she would supply the results, but she had to ask it. If he wanted her, if he wanted to use her, then she would have to ask why, but most unfortunately, she had the feeling that she already knew that answer as well. Her der, darling step-father that had ruined everything about her life, stolen her freedom, and now his enemies would steal her life.

What she hates even more is when the man decides to laugh, what in the hell is funny about holding her very life in his hands! What is amusing in the slightest about holding her at gunpoint and condemning her to death or something equally as excruciatingly painful. 

"You see love, we don't actually want anything with you, your new step-father kind of owes us something, and you, are our bargaining chip." He seems to phrase it so politely, so calmly as if it were only a business exchange, one asset for another.

"Y-you have the wrong person sir, my step-father is merely a business man, I'm sure whatever it is you can simply speak to him. ."

Emilia's diplomacy attempt is cut short with a short laugh, bursting forth from the man's chest in such a raucous matter that it disturbs her, almost like an insane man forcing himself to laugh at a joke made but finding it not amusing in the slightest.

"Do not play us for fools Miss Emilia, your father is no business man, he is a fraud, a crook, and a thief. Now, if you would be so kind as to turn and face us, slowly, we can be going on with this." The other one says, ever so graciously, "And you mongrel, stay seated like a good guard dog." He snarls, presumably talking to Mr. Knyte who hadn't dared move an inch.

Emilia turns, slowly, her eyes straight forward and hands raised just above shoulder height. She couldn't help it as her hands tremble slightly with fear, balling them into fists to try and hide the involuntary motion. Very briefly, her eyes make contact with Alexander's form, watching him for the briefest of seconds.