Owned By a Greek god

**** JASON P. O. V ****

When the car suddenly stopped, I hit my head on the seat in front of me. I went to check on mom and saw that she had also hit her head and that it was bleeding.

“Mother,” I said with fear, and I saw that she had already become unconscious.

I was so mad that I yelled, “What the f-k just happened!”

“Boss, we’re so sorry. A cat tried to catch a pigeon, and the pigeon flew into the front of the car. I had to hit the brakes as fast as I could so I wouldn’t hit her,” the driver said through the window, and I was so angry.

I yelled, “So you hurt my mom for a few road b*tches!” and he went down on his knees right away. In anger, I pulled out my gun and shot him right in the head.

I could hear the girls screaming as they ran into their shops. I got out of the car, and then I saw that my cars were already a mess.

“B**ch,” I muttered in a very angry tone.

“Get mom to the sanatorium now! I will meet you there after killing that b**ch.” I stared at one of my drivers and they moved her to the closing vehicle at the line.

They zoomed off with the exceptional pace I became expected. I looked at the other guys because they seemed so scared.

“Where is the woman?” I asked, and they began to walk toward the front. I looked at my cars as I walked, and when I saw the scratches and other damage, my anger grew.

We were put in the car’s front seat, and I didn’t see any younger women.

“Where the hell is she?” I asked, looking at my friends, and they turned around.

One person said, “She was right here trying to keep a pigeon,” and I saw a pigeon shop. Then I saw a woman there who was looking at us.

I thought she might know the younger woman, so I rushed into the shop. I grabbed her by the hair and pulled her out of the room.

My friends didn’t help me because they knew that I liked taking care of everything myself when it came to my mom.

I forced her to kneel, and I heard the other girls scream. When my guys fired a few shots into the sky, everyone stopped what they were doing.

“I know you’re here somewhere, young woman, and I know you probably don’t want me to blow this woman’s head off in front of these kids,” I said as I pointed the gun at her head.

“I’ll rely on a few, and if you don’t give up, I’ll kill her and the kids, then look for you and kill you later.”

“One!” I’d heard that before and looked around, but I didn’t see anyone.

“Two!” I knew that meant to “cork my gun.”

When I heard someone yell “three,” I knew what it meant and was almost ready to pull the trigger.

I heard the man or woman say, “Don’t! Please don’t!” Her voice sounded sweet, but it was full of fear. I wanted that to happen.

I yelled, “Come to the front!” and waited for the b**ch to show up. Then she walked past me while keeping her head down. It was clear that she started shaking.

“So you’re the Pigeon Saviour, right?” I asked her to go for a walk.

She said, “I’m sorry” through tears.

“Raise your head now,” I told her or him, and when she or he did, she or he showed me her…

I asked the guys, “WTF? Is she the one?” and they said yes.

They said, “Yes, boss,” and I looked at her again.

“How could she be so pretty?” I thought as I lifted her head up with my gun, and she or he started to shiver.

“Can you at least let her go? Then you can kill me if you want to,” she said, bringing me back to reality.

I walked in front of her and said, “So you really do need to die.”

“I don’t think I really have a choice here, so just do what you need to do,” she said, and I looked at her.

“Wow, that took a lot of guts,” I thought. Then I went looking for her.

“Get her inside the car,” I told her, and I was surprised to see her go looking for her.

“Why are you putting me in the car? Why don’t you just kill me here?” she asked because the men were carrying her.

“Maybe I changed my mind about killing you. I have better ways to punish you.” I started looking for the woman on her knees and shooting her in the head before walking to the car.

Someone should be killed for what happened to my mom.

She cried out as they threw her into the car, “Why did you kill her? She didn’t do anything to hurt you!”

I said, “Take her home while I go to the hospital,” and they nodded. I got in the car, and we left the market.

Because we were going so fast to the sanatorium, the guys opened the door for me, and I ran into the building while thinking about my mom.

As soon as they saw me, the nurses led me straight to the ward without asking me any questions.

They can’t, of course. I could blow their heads right off.

We were shown to the ward, and the doctor left just in time to throw away his gloves.

“Mr Jason.” Everyone knows him for his smile.

“How is she doing, doctor?” I asked, ignoring his greetings and looking into the ward through the glass door.

“It was just a small scratch on her forehead. She passed out because she was surprised, and you know she’s old now. Her health is fragile, and she shouldn’t be surprised from now on, or it will hurt her heart,” he said, and I just stood there and looked at my mom through the glass.

I asked, “Can I see her?” and he said yes.

He said, “Sure. I might be in my office,” and then he left. I walked into the ward after the guys opened the door.

When the nurses saw me, they left the room, leaving only my mother and me in the ward.

I said, “Mother,” and she or he opened her eyes and looked at me. Her head was wrapped up.

She smiled and said, “Hey, son.” I sat next to her and held her hand.

“How are you feeling right now?” I asked as I tried not to cry.

She said, “I’m fine Jason, it was just a scratch,” and I agreed.

“She will pay for what she did,” I said, and my mom tightened her grip on my hand.

“Please don’t kill her, okay? She was trying to save the pigeon. She must have a good heart. We were moving too quickly,” she said, and I shook my head.

“Nothing makes sense. She sent you to the psychiatric hospital, so she needs to pay,” I said in anger.

She said, “Please don’t kill her,” and I sighed.

“Fine,” I said. “I might not kill her, but she might be able to get through it.” She or he turned around.

She asked, “Where is she?”

“I asked my guys to take her home,” I told her, and she looked at me with a sigh.

“I’m an extreme mom. I might not kill her, but I can’t promise you that she won’t suffer for it,” I said. She shook her head.

She said, “You are so annoying,” and I turned away.

“You have to be able to get home because it’s a scratch,” I said while standing up.

“The doctor told me I can go home whenever I want,” she said, and I smiled.

I told her, “That’s good news. We could go home right away,” and she agreed. As she did it, she or he probably got a headache and winced.

“Are you all right?” I asked in fear.

“Yes, I am. It’s just mild pain,” she said, making me even angrier. This woman is going to have to pay. She will be sorry.

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