Ace
I looked at the safe box as if it would talk to me, it had four numbers of code. I wondered if my father was dumb to put his birthday for the code-I tried it and to my misfortune, it didn't open. I tried it but switching its numbers-it didn't fucking open.
the day the outfit was created?
it didn't work either.
I tried all the numbers he could use, but no single one worked could open it with just one shot of my gun but I didn't want to break it.
Something inside of me was telling me that I was approaching the start of a battle. Be on the right side of the line, because if I dig in on the wrong side even God won't help me. I just hope to find the answers I seek.
I grabbed the fine dagger I had and started to put the head between the two layers on the iron of the safe box, I could feel that the dagger wanted to break in two.
the day my mother died?
The thought roamed my mind like a clap of thunder in the middle of the night, it couldn't be.
Stopping what I was doing with the knife I tried the numbers of the date my mother died- as far as I know from my father it was the 20th of December.
It worked, it fucking worked, "fuck."
I cursed under my breath, I didn't understand why my mother's death was the code- was he that twisted? opening the box with shaking hands, I let my hands roam on the paper that in before I let my eyes roam on the faces sprawled on the paper more like a picture, an old one. two toddlers were lying on each arm of a man- a woman who was wearing a white dress with my black hair following down the dress.
A cold sweat formed on my head- the blurry picture of the woman that was in front of me was my mother- why the hell I was seeing it now, If he had this picture for this long age why didn't show it to my- the two toddlers on the picture were in the man's arm was certainly me and Inna and the man on the picture was not my father, he was not Dimitri. Turning the picture sideways with shaking hands, I could feel my rage and fear building up in my throat, making me want to lay on the ground a calm myself or just go for a hit to get my thirst for blood gone. Ivan's beautiful girls.
Those were the words written with a hand on the back of the picture.
Ivan's.
Ivan was supposed to be my dead uncle.
Rage builds like deep water currents. I did everything right - everything -and still this place is a God damn mess. If this was named Ivan's who the hell was the monster I lived with for ages?
Drowned in my thoughts, a gunshot was rand in my ears, making me stumble backward just before the invader voiced out, that he had just shot my left arm. I didn't feel anything until I saw blood dripping from my arm. "I taught you better than sneaking," Before I could realize what was happening, the hands of the guards made their way to my body cuffing me between their ropes.
"Put her in her own basement and wait for me"
Those were the last words before they made me out of my consciousness.
Great now I will be fucking stuck in my basement, in my own house, and in my own territory.
As I sat bound to the chair in the dimly lit cellar, my mind gradually regained consciousness, stirring awake before my body. I resisted the urge to rub my throbbing temple, knowing it would only intensify the pain.
My wrists stung from the tight restraints, leaving rope burns etched into my skin. But it didn't burn, my blood burned.
Keeping my eyes closed, I listened intently to the muffled voices echoing in the distance, straining to decipher their words amidst the echoing ambiance. The screeching sound of metal pierced my ears, causing me to cringe, a sound I despised. it feels so fucking good to be trapped in my basement.
Approaching footsteps, stern and heavy, grew louder, indicating someone's imminent arrival. I refrained from opening my eyes, knowing it would be unwise to do so until I assessed the situation. I turned my head slightly in the chair, scanning my surroundings in the small cellar. The chair where I torture my enemies.
Positioned in the center, I noticed the cold and grim bullet hole in the wall, its rough edges, and scorched remnants revealing a violent past. I did that.
Footsteps, crunching against the floor, grew closer, setting my heart racing. I remained still, my body motionless as I listened attentively. The door creaked open, and two distinct sets of footsteps entered before closing the door behind them. Squinting my eyes, I locked gazes with my father, accompanied by one of his guards, while another stood watch outside the cell.
A smirk formed on his face as he advanced toward me, his steps deliberate. "I should have burned that picture years ago..."
I clenched my fists tightly, reminding myself to buy more time, to extract something from him. I decided to play the part of the captive for a little longer.
"What brings you here?" I seethed; my voice laced with anger.
"To eradicate the last remnant of our family," he replied, amusement dancing in his eyes.
"Not the last, Father" I retorted, my defiance evident.
He chuckled, finding humor in my response.
"Father?" He shook his head, disbelief etched on his face. "Do I look like a father to you?"
My eyes burned with intensity. "Though, I must admit," he said, a half-crooked smile playing on his lips as his hands disappeared into the pockets of his black jeans. "It has been my exhilarating raising a killer in this household."
I refused to let his words unsettle me. "Can't say you didn't do your best," I replied, my voice laced with defiance, meeting his stern gaze, the same one he had given me throughout my life. "So, how did you like my little surprise? I trust you grasped its significance."
"Wonderful, I suppose," I responded a note of sarcasm in his voice. "Should I thank you?" His amusement was evident as he chuckled.
"No need for gratitude," I shot back, my desire to confront him growing stronger by the second. I could feel the icy coldness of my blood pumping through my veins, ready to exact vengeance.
He smirked and taunted me further. "No, I will thank myself by witnessing your slow demise, every second of the remainder of your pitiful life. Do you see that chair you're bound to?" His laughter filled the air as he continued, "Beneath it lies your grave. You will rot here, and I will ensure your death is slower than that of your father's, Ace."
"We shall see," I wanted to say, but instead, I asked, my voice tinged with curiosity, "Who are you?"
"Your uncle, your bloodline," he revealed before departing, leaving me alone in the desolate cellar. "Fuck me."
