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Chapter 4 - Bullets in Her Name

BGM Recommendation: "River" – Bishop Briggs

"Lilith didn't shout. She didn't need to. One look from her, and men twice her age stopped breathing right. They talked tough, slammed fists, insulted her crew— until she smiled.

And when she smiled? Somebody always died before sunset."

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The land that once burned? Now covered in weeds. But Lilith never forgot.

She remembered trimming the last banana tree with Jasmine. The scissors still hung in the kitchen. She remembered waking in rubble, blood on her arm. And Lucian—clutching her sleeve in silence.

From then on, the gun was hers. Not a toy. A weapon.

Her hands were small. Didn't matter. She could break down a pistol in seconds, reassemble it blindfolded.

Jaguar taught her basics. She went farther. Faster. Meaner.

Jaguar's old squad stuck around. They trained her in silence.

"You're not like him," one said once.

She stared at him. Said nothing.

Because she was. And she wasn't.

Not as calm. Not as careful.

But deadlier.

She liked one-shot kills.

Her gun? A custom silver short-barrel, etched with jasmine vines and half a jaguar.

Her inner forearm? Inked with a matching design, wrist to elbow.

Only when she raised the gun did the ink kiss the metal. Skin, steel, and memory. One perfect line.

No one knew when she got it. Not even Lucian.

"That tattoo… matches your gun," he once said.

She didn't answer. Just buttoned her sleeve.

She didn't like being asked.

That year, Lilith became queen of the zone.

Still a teen. Shorter than Lucian. Baby face. Chewing candy.

But her blonde hair flared in the sun like warning light. And her pistol? Always loaded.

Anyone came for her turf? They didn't leave.

Lucian once followed her through a broken street, dressed like evacuees.

She told the boys: "Lure him out."

The target stepped outside.

Pop. One silenced shot. One clean kill.

Lucian blinked. She turned to him.

"First time killing with me. How's it feel?"

"...not too bad."

She smiled.

She knew he was like her. In chaos, you kill to live.

"And if it were you?" she asked.

He frowned. "Not too good."

"Exactly. Kill them before they even think of killing you. Animals act on instinct. We think. So don't let them read your mind."

Behind her? Boys with fire in their eyes.

Some were fourteen. Some were eighteen.

But every pair of eyes burned with fire.

Not wild heat. Loyalty—lit in dirt, not born in peace.

Lilith learned fast under Double J. She was smart.

Knew the world was shifting.

Soon, guns wouldn't be enough.

So she sent them out.

Top schools, fake IDs. real degrees.

Doctors.

Lawyers.

Even one working under a judge.

She gave them something rare— A shot at a normal life.

And while the world slept, her army took shape.

They didn't worship her. Didn't owe her.

They believed in her.

Lilith wasn't their savior. She was their weapon.

——————————————————————————————————

Years later, she grew sharper with age. Her face matured, but that baby face stayed.

Too many underestimated her.

"Her? That little thing?" "Probably slept her way up."

She smiled. Then pulled the gun.

Silver barrel. Wrist flash. Tattoo like a warning sign.

Next week? That loud man in the meeting? Gone.

Car crash. Stray bullet. Vanished.

Everyone knew who. No one asked twice.

Even Lucian couldn't always read her.

"Be ruthless. Or be stupid. But don't let them read you."

So he learned to listen. To her breathing. Her blinking. Her silence.

Before every big meeting? Someone always asked him:

"How's her mood today?"

Most days, he knew.

But sometimes? She was smiling.

And the next hour—someone disappeared.

"Why do you always smile?" he once asked.

Lilith's reply was soft: "Smile when you pull the trigger," she said.

"That way, they never see death coming."

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