CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
bullet wounds and baths

Staring down the barrel of a gun was never good. Staring down the barrel of a gun with a disturbed person on the other end of it? Even worse.

Angeline was frozen. Her heart thudded erratically and it felt like she couldn't breathe at all. Everything she'd ever learnt in her self defence lessons had gone out of the window. For the life of her, she had no idea what to do next.

"Z-Zimmerman?" Angeline tried to remain as calm as possible, holding her hands out a little the best she could with nothing but a towel wrapped around her.

The situation was not ideal to say the least. And she hated the part of her brain that said couldn't he have done this later when I was dressed? Because now was really not the time for her own sarcasm.

"N-No," Zimmerman clenched his eyes shut, his hand on the gun shaking. "No. You're bad, Angeline. Your family are bad people!"

"They are." Angeline nodded quickly, panicked. "But I hate them too, okay? I'm not like them. I don't want to hurt anyone. And I know that you don't want to hurt anyone either, right?"

"I'll save people," Zimmerman took a deep breath, suddenly less shaky like he'd had an epiphany. "Yes. Gonna save everyone."

His grip on the gun tightened, his finger inching closer to the trigger. Angeline felt her own hands shake as she glanced to the door, praying for Mitch to come inside. Although, unless he wanted to get off again, there was no reason for him to.

"Zimmerman, please," Angeline whispered, "Let... Let me help you, okay? You could put the gun down, and then we could talk. About whatever you like -"

"I'm sick of it!" He suddenly boomed, waving the gun. "Sick of being cooped up in here, watching terrorists on the news kill innocent people! I have to do something."

"Killing me won't solve anything, Zimmerman," Angeline attempted to sway him.

She'd read somewhere that saying someone's name made it feel more personal, so they'd feel guiltier about hurting you. However, Angeline wasn't sure if it was as effective when she only knew his last name and he had many psychological issues.

If she ever made it out alive, she was going to kill Mitch. She'd told him that Zimmerman gave her the creeps.

"Yes it will!" Zimmerman cried, "yes it will, yes it will!"

Angeline was studying him like a hawk, waiting for him to slip up - to be distracted for just a second. When he turned to run a hand through his hair, Angeline took it as her way out. She dove for his legs, crashing into him and knocking him to the ground.

Zimmerman was an ex-assassin, so she'd be stupid to think she could run past him or have the upper hand at all. Everything was a risk, but she wasn't going to go down without a fight.

He was collapsed beneath her, his gun still wrapped tight in his hand much to her dismay. Angeline thanked her past-self for wrapping her towel so tightly as she reached out to grab his wrist with both her hands before he could aim the gun at her. She tried to keep his hand pinned to the floor, struggling on top of him.

"Mitch!" Angeline screamed, "Mitch, help!"

Zimmerman's spare hand came up and grabbed her by the neck. She grunted, feeling her airways slowly being crushed, but she didn't weaken her grasp on his hand that had the gun- not even as black spots filtered her vision. She knew if she were to release him, he'd be able to just aim and shoot her off of him.

Angeline used all her energy to drive her knee upwards, right into his crotch. She gasped for air when Zimmerman yelled in agony and released her neck, taking the opportunity to also elbow him hard in the chest and knock the breath out of his lungs.

Zimmerman released a loud grunt but seemed to recover quickly and he suddenly flipped them so she was pinned beneath him. Her grip on his wrist faltered.

He pointed the gun right at her face and pulled the trigger just as Angeline swerved her head out of the way. Her ears popped and she could smell the smoke and dust immediately, extremely aware that the hole in the floor could have been her head.

Where the fuck was Mitch?

Now she really was going to kill him if she ever even saw him again.

Angeline grabbed his shoulders and used all of her might to slam her head against his forehead. She wasn't sure if she'd meant to hurt her own head as much as she did, but the blood flowing from Zimmerman's forehead let her know he had come off worse. Her ears were still ringing from the gunshot.

"Fucking bitch," he groaned, looking slightly dazed.

Angeline's hand swiped for the gun in his hand and she yanked it- hard. She nearly dropped it from the shock of finally being able to get it out of his grasp, but with a shaky hand, she quickly had the barrel pressed to Zimmerman's chest.

"Get the fuck off of me," Angeline warned, her voice trembling worse than she'd ever heard it before. "Get the fuck off of me right now!"

Zimmerman released a whimper that managed to tug at Angeline's heart. She was scared she was going to have to hurt him- terrified even. He wasn't in the right state of mind; he didn't understand what he was really doing.

He shakily scrambled off of her, backing away. Angeline kept the gun pointed at him as she readjusted her towel that was starting to slip.

"Please," she begged him, "Just- Just stay there. I don't wanna hurt you, okay?"

Zimmerman nodded frantically. Angeline could have sighed in relief, but she knew it wasn't completely over yet.

"Mitch!" Amora yelled again, her heart sinking when she realised that he must be in the gym— the only place in the house you couldn't hear anything from. "Mitch!"

She craned her head to the side for a moment, just to listen for a call back or footsteps or anything, but she heard nothing.

Only Zimmerman rushing back towards her.

He jumped on top of her, his hands back around her throat and he squeezed so hard that Angeline could feel the pressure behind her eyes. They felt like they were going to pop out and she could hear the blood rushing in her ears, her lungs screaming.

"P- p -" She wasn't going to last another minute, her knees thrashing beneath her but to no avail.

Angeline pointed the gun in her hand to his chest and she pulled the trigger. The relief was almost immediate as Zimmerman's hands slid off of her bruised neck, but she had no chance to relax.

Sobs and quick breaths left her lips, her legs working quickly to kick his heavy body off of her. The towel clung to the floor below as she slid out from underneath him, but it was the least of her worries as she watched Zimmerman hunch over, his hand holding where the bullet had entered his body.

"I - I'm sorry." Angeline was hysterical, especially at the dumbfounded look on his face as he drew his hand back, finding it covered in blood.

And then he dove forward again, wrestling for the gun with all of the final bits of adrenaline and life he had left in his system. Angeline cried out, feeling his bloody hand slip from her neck down her arm. Quicker than last time, she shot him again. Anything to get him off of her. Blood sprayed over her body.

He went limp on her this time. Angeline lay in shock, her eyes only blinking back to life when she felt a warm liquid across her stomach. He was bleeding out on top of her.

Crying again, she managed to wiggle him off of her, her entire body shaking worse than it ever had before. Angeline felt like she couldn't breathe, the bile rising in her throat as she looked down at the body of the man that she had just killed. Panic seized her not only from the fact that she'd just murdered somebody, but because she felt like she was going to be sick.

Thoughts raced through her mind at such a rapid and intense speed that it hurt, her skull feeling as though it was being crushed as her eyes leaked with tears nonstop. The gun was still in her grip as she stuck to the wall, not taking her eyes off of Zimmerman's lifeless form until she was out of the room. There was blood on the carpet. So much blood.

Mitch. She had to find Mitch.

The adrenaline had clearly worn off of her and lifting her legs felt like a chore. Each step was like trying to force yourself to enter a classroom when you were late to school or something, her stomach in knots as she headed for the basement. It took her double the time it normally would to get down there.

Mitch had his back to her, not hearing her come down as he threw punches at the punching bag hanging from the ceiling. She opened her mouth to call his name, but all that came out was a pathetic whimper. Yet he seemed to sense her behind him, and with a quick glance over his shoulder, his movements stopped.

The last thing Mitch had expected to see was Angeline standing at the bottom of the stairs, her hair wet from her shower, her body stark naked and covered in blood as she shook like a leaf, a gun in her right hand.

His hazel eyes widened and he tore off the protective gloves he was wearing, tossing them to the ground and rushing towards her, his hands moving to her shoulders where he took the gun from her.

"What happened?" He demanded, "Whose blood is this? Are you hurt?"

Mitch had left hickies across her neck and collarbones, but he knew that those handprints wrapped around her neck had not been left by him - they were big, violent bruises that had been intended to hurt - or kill, even. Her brown eyes were wide from a mixture of shock and fear as she began to stammer again, trying to speak.

"I didn't want to," Angeline sobbed finally, one trembling hand reaching up to skim across her own neck. "He was g-gonna kill me, Mitch."

"Zimmerman?" Mitch realised, watching her flinch and nod at the name. "So nobody else is in the house?"

"No," Angeline breathed, "I - Fuck! I didn't know what to do -"

She collapsed into him. Mitch hadn't been expecting it, the way her hands grabbed onto his shoulders as if to stop her from slipping to the floor. Angeline's sobs were violent and loud - he'd never heard her like it before, even as she pressed her face to his chest, muffling her sounds slightly. He placed his arms around her, trying not to touch her disrespectfully considering the fact that she was still naked.

"I know," Mitch said, attempting to console her. "Angeline, sometimes you have to get your hands dirty to save yourself. You're only human - you did what you had to do. You're not a bad person."

Mentally, Mitch was cursing himself. He thought he could trust Zimmerman - Stan sure did. He never thought that he'd try and hurt Angeline, let alone try to kill her. Even then, he should have been there to save her. Instead, Angeline had to save herself and now she was clearly traumatised.

Angeline continued to cry into him for a couple more minutes before she was reduced to sniffles and tiny whimpers. The sound tugged at his heart considering he'd never seen her so... 'Weak' felt like the wrong word to use considering the circumstances, but Angeline was never like this.

He gently pulled her off of him and reached for his gym towel. He had yet to use it so it was clean as he wrapped it around her shoulders. It did nothing to really cover her, but he supposed it might make her feel a little less exposed. Angeline was still shaking as she grasped onto the towel, her teeth chattering as she looked up at him.

"Am I in trouble?" Angeline whispered fearfully, "Am I going to go to p-prison or something?"

"No," Mitch replied, unsure whether to reach out and comfort her again. "No, nothing's going to happen to you, okay? We have cameras that can be checked - my superior will see that it was self defence. Now, are you sure he's dead, Angeline?"

Angeline choked at the word. "I - I - I tried to say his name lots because it's supposed to make people feel more aware or responsible or whatever, but - but it didn't work -"

"Angeline," Mitch repeated sternly. "Would you like to wait here whilst I go up to... see him?"

No, she wanted to reply. Please stay with me. Don't leave me. I can't be alone right now.

Instead, she nodded. He said something about being right back before he tightened his grip on the gun and began to jog up the stairs, leaving Angeline alone in the gym. She immediately collapsed onto the bottom step, wishing her hands would stop shaking as she brushed her wet hair out of her face. It was knotty from not being brushed and she was cold.

When she peeled away her hands and found Zimmerman's blood there, Angeline began to breathe heavier. It felt like she could still feel his body on top of hers, his hands wrapped around her throat. She could hear his whimper and then remember exactly what she was thinking as he began to tackle her to the ground. How she was so sure that she was going to die.

The pressure behind her eyelids was no longer from being suffocated, but due to the tears that just wouldn't stop falling. She felt so weak and sick and twisted - like she would never be clean from the blood that was on her body. Angeline grabbed the towel Mitch had given her and began to try and get it off of her skin.

She cried out when the blood stained her, not budging off of her body. It stained the towel now too, smearing across her skin and drying there. Angeline was going to be sick, she was sure of it. Her chest heaved as she rubbed and rubbed at her skin, feeling like it was tearing beneath her hands.

"Angeline, stop!" Mitch's voice boomed in her ears and his much larger hands clamped down around hers.

Her breath was caught in her throat as she looked up and saw him, her lashes heavy with tear drops. He looked a mixture of horrified and sympathetic as he pulled the towel out of her hands, one of his own hands clamping down on her shoulder.

"It's going to come off in the shower, okay?" Mitch reassured her, though his tone never shifted from being stern and warning-like, just like how it usually was. "You're hurting yourself doing that."

"Need it off," Angeline pleaded with him.

"Okay, let's go get it off, yeah?" He was a bit softer this time. Well, as soft as Mitch Rapp could be.

Angeline nodded, feeling his hand slide around to her back, just over her shoulder blade, and he guided her to her feet. She was shaking still, making her feel slightly stupid, but Mitch didn't acknowledge it. He began to help her up the stairs of the basement and then up the other flight of stairs onto the upper floor where all the bedrooms were. He led her into his bedroom, pulling open the door to the ensuite.

"Okay, you shower, take all the time you need and -"

"No." Angeline didn't think before she grabbed his arm, transferring some blood over accidentally. "Please don't leave me again," she said weakly.

Mitch understood how down she must be to ask for help from him. She was usually so headstrong and she hated to admit defeat, especially to him. Although, he wouldn't say it was a defeat necessarily. After all, he'd pushed her away after he'd had his nightmare last night - she was braver than he was for asking for some help.

"Okay," Mitch said slowly, unsurely even. "You want a bath?"

Angeline nodded, shrinking back as if she regretted opening her mouth. She retracted her hand as Mitch moved over to the bathtub and began to fill it up with hot water. He poured in lots of soap too, making it bubbly. Angeline was glad since, although he'd seen her body before and she had just gone to find him stark naked, she was starting to regain consciousness over the parts of her brain that had shut off upon seeing a dead body.

Angeline stepped into the bathtub when it was done, immediately sinking into it. She released a long breath, gripping the sides of the tub. Mitch went through the cabinet beneath the sink until he found a brand new loofah for her, passing it to her as he sat down on top of the closed toilet lid, holding a towel. He stared at the door ahead of him, listening out as she began to lather her loofah up with soap.

It wasn't necessarily awkward for him, rather he felt angry with himself for letting it happen in the first place. However, Mitch was quite used to this angry feeling. He felt it so often that it almost made him feel numb sometimes, until spikes like this happened. He thought when he joined the CIA to take down the terrorists that killed his family that he'd feel better afterwards, but he didn't. It only fuelled his urge to protect more innocent lives; to rid the world of people who thought it was acceptable to commit such disgusting acts.

When he'd very first met Angeline, he wasn't sure whether she was involved with the family business or not. He quickly realised that she wasn't and he began to feel sorry for her - because she didn't know the true vileness of her family, because they mistreated and even abused her, because everything that could go wrong seemed to do exactly that for her...

Angeline had always been too curious for her own good. Always asking him questions, trying to listen through his door that one time, trying to break into his room... The last straw was when she snuck into her father's office and got caught by Renolds and also managed to find out the very code her father's opposition and the CIA were after. That's when he began to get irritated with her.

Not just because she'd managed to fuck up an entire mission, but because she'd put herself in so much danger. He'd never admit it out loud, but Mitch genuinely cared about whatever happened to her. He didn't want her to get hurt - he needed to get her to the safe house so the CIA could get the codes from her and protect her properly. However, she made it so hard for him to do. It was frustrating beyond belief.

Mitch's thoughts were cut off by small whimpers coming from beside him. He glanced over to Angeline, finding her scrubbing at her arm roughly again. It was going bright red, but she looked desperate to clean it, her brows furrowed in pain and concentration.

"Hey," Mitch called again, softly.

He didn't know what he was doing when he moved to kneel outside the bath, his hand gently taking the loofah from her. Angeline was starting to breathe heavily again, looking at him worriedly. She couldn't maintain eye contact, her gaze tearing back down to her hands where there was no more blood - but it was as if she could still feel its sticky texture there.

"It's okay," Mitch promised her and Angeline was sure that this was the softest she'd ever heard him. "Angeline. It's okay. Look at me."

She didn't look at him, and Mitch was unsure what else to say. He needed to get through to her - he didn't want her to be emotionally scarred. Not like he was.

"I - I - I tried to say his name lots because it's supposed to make people feel more aware or responsible or whatever, but - but it didn't work -"

"Angel, look at me."

He was surprised when it worked, her teary brown eyes glancing up to lock with his. She also looked quite shocked, like she wasn't expecting him to use her preferred name on her.

"You're going to be okay," Mitch reminded her, "This comes off easy. See?"

Mitch reached for the arm she'd been harshly scrubbing at, holding it delicately and then raising the loofah to it. He grazed over her clean skin, hoping something would flicker in her brain when he did it and she'd think that it was working. He knew that worked with people who were scared of germs sometimes.

Angeline released a shaky breath as Mitch removed the loofah. "How did you do that?" She asked.

"Easy," Mitch chided, loosening up a little as he moved to her shoulder. "You just have to be really gentle with it. You got to be careful with yourself."

Maybe he should have given the loofah back to her, but Angeline had finally seemed to stop shaking as she watched him clean the blood off of her. He made sure to look at her face rather than her body, not wanting her to feel violated, although there was nothing sexual about the situation whatsoever.

"How do you do it?" Angeline sniffled, her eyes leaving her leg that he was cleaning to look up at him. "How do you do that for work?"

"Kill people?" Mitch asked, earning a flinch that he took as a yes. "It's never easy at first, even when they deserve it. But that's why, with jobs like mine, you can't get attached. I'm doing the world a favour removing the scum from it."

Angeline swallowed, thinking about his words. "Like my father and Elliot?"

"Unfortunately."

"No, I hate them," Angeline said as she shifted to hug her knees to her chest, feeling Mitch began to gently wash her back, avoiding her hair. "I don't... I don't care what happens to them at this point."

Mitch didn't say anything. He wasn't sure what to say.

"'Wish I'd stayed in London with my mum," Angeline murmured into her knees.

"You sure?" Mitch attempted to make her smile a little. "Then you wouldn't have met me."

It worked - there was a tiny tug at the corner of her lips. "I don't hate you, Mitch," Angeline admitted, "I know I said I did this morning, but I don't really."

"You don't hate me?" Mitch raised his brows. "Had me fooled."

"Well, I hate you because you're a man and you're annoying, but I don't hate you," the dark-haired girl said softly, "And if you dare tell me I shouldn't hate all men, I'll punch you. Every man in my life has sucked. Except Dan."

Mitch's face screwed up for a second. "Who the fuck is Dan?"

"You don't remember?" Angeline chuckled, although it was so weak it sounded painful. "Dan the barista at the Starbucks by my dad's house. He made legendary caramel frappes. Never had to ask for extra caramel - just always knew."

"Ah," Mitch said, "And what if the guy's a real jerkoff behind the scenes?"

"When you make coffee as good as him, it doesn't matter," Angeline replied, her face drooping a little as Mitch stopped cleaning her back and the silence filled the room again. "Thanks, Mitch."

Slightly startled, the dark-haired man just nodded a little. "It's all part of -"

"Don't finish that," Angeline sighed, sending him a small, pointed look as Mitch reached for the plug and began to drain the soapy water. "It's annoying when you say that. Just say 'you're welcome' for once, please."

Mitch was silent for a few moments. "You're welcome, Angel."

..

hi guys!! long time no see... i'm sorry!! many who asked will know that i have just had no motivation with this book in the past few months. i cannot 100% say im going to start posting consistently again, however i am feeling more motivated due to a tiktok that was made recommending this book!! that's not to say that i don't appreciate comments (they motivate me too!!) but it felt so cool seeing a real life person telling me that they liked my stuff. after being on wattpad for the past eight years, it was just so nice to physically hear it! i don't know if that makes sense, but shout out to @/tiaralee on tiktok (or @dumbslut24 over here!) for just being so cool and sparking some motivation inside me!! <33 and hi to all of the new readers who came from her video!! you guys were so interactive and i was SO confused bc the book had been dead for a while haha

anyways, i really hope you enjoyed this chapter! i really liked writing some softer!mitch. i think angeline deserves a friend rn <333

word count: 4k

dyiansobrien.