Everlastingly Loving You - Chapter 51

Nicholas’ jaw dropped.

Bartholomew had his weapon down, astonished at the sight.

He turned to face her, confused and wonder-stricken. He was relieved, obviously, although he wondered if Sophia was even human. It was as though she’d never been pierced by a bullet at all, which was true, in some parts.

“I considered studying ballistics,” Sophia answered matter-of-factly, as though that answer would suffice for all the questions Nicholas had in mind.

Was she even human?

He pondered over the possibility itself.

“How are you… awake?” Nicholas asked in astonishment. He’d sworn he heard the bullet pierce Sophia and saw her falling to the ground.

Sophia waved her hand dismissively, “Later,” she promised him.

She then turned to Bartholomew, who hadn’t spoken a word ever since she’d… revived, so to speak.

She placed a hand on her hip, glaring daggers at him.

She seemed fearless, as if she thought she’d survive a second bullet since the first did little to no damage.

She subconsciously glanced at a part of her dress that’d been tainted with blood, she felt fortunate to have chosen a dress that matched the colour of the red fluid she’d lost.

“Well, well,” she said to Batholomew, her tone full of resentment and pure hatred.

Bartholomew replied by aiming the gun at her.

He said with a stutter, “D-don’t try doing anything f-foolish, I have a gun and as I’ve already demonstrated, I’m not afraid to use it.”

Sophia rolled her eyes.

“If we’re on the topic of doing anything foolish.”

Not comprehending what Sophia was going on about, Sophia shot him an ingenuine smile, before telling him, “If your brain hasn’t figured it out yet, you’ve run out of bullets. Although, if you don’t believe there’s truth to what I’m saying, go ahead and shoot me.”

The king, a twit, aimed at her and pulled the trigger. No bullet fired. He didn’t seem too fazed.

He shook the gun, as if it were going to do anything or bullets were to magically refill. He aimed it at her once she attempted to bound forwards.

“STAY BACK!” He exclaimed.

“Says the guy who tried to shoot me multiple times,” Sophia retorted, harrumphing.

“And yet, he couldn’t manage to properly calculate how many bullets were needed to kill me? Please,” Sophia waved her hand dismissively, before she snorted.

“That’s on you, you meat headed sh*t sack,” she sneered.

Nicholas’ respect he held for Sophia went from none to shooting sky high. The girl had some gall to go insulting her shooter that way. It also wasn’t to be forgotten that that shooter was also a king that held more power than her, not that she seemingly cared.

The king responded, “AND YOU THINK YOU’RE INNOCENT? YOU MADE ME LAUGHINGSTOCK OF THE WORLD!”

Sophia narrowed her eyes.

“I MADE YOU A LAUGHINGSTOCK,” Sophia confirmed, “BUT YOU, YOU SHOT ME.”

“So, I should return the favor,” she said, an illustrious glint in her eyes.

“What?” Barry blurted, he subconsciously wondered

She drew something out from her dress, Bartholomew made it out as a compact hand knife. He backed away, terrified of what she’d do to him. He shouldn’t have shot her, he’d come to inevitably regret. He also shouldn’t have messed with someone so comfortable with torture.

“How did you manage to smuggle that in?!” The king demanded, taking a few more steps back as he saw her glance at him then back at her knife.

Sophia raised a brow.

“You could smuggle in a gun, bold of you to assume I couldn’t smuggle in a mere hand knife, Barry.”

The king was glued to his spot, fear ran through his veins.

“I said, stop calling me Barry!” He bellowed.

“THE NAME’S BARTHOLOMEW!” He nearly yelled.

Sophia didn’t seem to care. She twirled the knife in her hand, walking calmly towards the king.

“Whatever you say, Barry.”

“I SAID, STAY BACK!” He exclaimed, pointing the gun at her as if it were to do anything or scare her away. He took something out of his pocket, relieved he’d decided to bring more bullets, now refilling his gun. Sophia had survived one bullet, he’d like to see her survive a second one.

Relieved, he aimed it at her, although to his surprise, she merely grinned at his adorable and pathetic attempt of scaring her.

“You think that’s going to scare me?” Sophia asked, blinking.

“You shot me once, but here I am, just fine,” Sophia said, a glint of malice in her eyes.

“Shoot me again if you dare.”

“You’re merely postponing your inevitable demise,” Sophia said.

Bartholomew placed his gun down, giving Sophia just enough time to swoop in and have her knife on his neck.

“Just one precise flick of the wrist,” Sophia said as she moved her hand horizontally across her neck, before continuing, “…and I’ll be the last thing you see.”

“You wouldn’t,” Bartholomew said, goggling at her with total disbelief.

“And why would I not?” Sophia asked, looking back from her knife to Bartholomew.

Bartholomew had a couple of ideas.

“What would your kingdom think of you?” He reasoned.

Sophia laughed sardonically. As if she cared about what others thought, moreso her people, correction, Emilia’s people.

Sophia’s gaze softened for a second, and at that moment Bartholomew took his shot. He freed himself from Sophia’s grasp before he struck, making his move. placing his gun next to her head.

“Think again, darling,” Bartholomew said smugly. He’d finally be able to get back at her and make sure she died this time ’round.

Sophia muttered incomprehensibly, “Curse vulnerability.”

Frankly, Sophia thought she was toast, and to be left for dead. Bartholomew had the best shot to kill her, that was, until… out of the corner of her eye, she managed to see Nicholas, walking up to Bartholomew – or Barry – as Sophia called him.

She glanced at him, and he glanced back at her.

He gave her a curt nod, which she reciprocated with an impressed look.