Phoenix's Revenge

22.

Phoenix POV

I walk into Tommy's room.

He sits on his bed as I gather my things. I stuff the knives and hun in a bag as quickly as I can, if I'm doing this, it has to be alone. I don't want anyone else hurt.

"What are you doing?" He asks.

I ignore him and zip it up.

"Phoenix?" He tries again.

"Leaving." I turn around, but Calen stands in the doorway.

"What do you mean?" He asks.

"I can't do this. I don't want this." The words taste cowardly as I let them spill from my mouth.

He looks at me with a confused face.

"You're just going to leave him?" Tommy asks from the other side of the room. I look back at him and force my face to remain neutral.

"You can't. He needs you. Whatever happened, I'll fix it." Tommy pleads.

Tears prick the corners of my eyes. I clear my throat and start back, unrelenting.

Tommy's eyes take an air of coolness that I haven't seen from him. They're Nikolai's eyes when he goes dark. My heart snaps in two at his next words.

"Let her go." He all but growls out.

Calen looks at me with uncertainty until I bring my eyes to his silently begging him to trust me. He nods, barely noticeable, and steps to the side, allowing me through.

I take one last look at Tommy. His jaw is clenched as he looks at the ground.

If only he knew.

I set my own jaw and walk out. As I do, Mr. Petrov stands there with a triumphant smirk while I feign sadness.

He will get his.

I leave the manor.

...

Weeks later.

I sit anxiously at a table for two.

My leg bounces restlessly. My mind races back to Nikolai and the way he'd rest his tattooed hand on my thigh, instantly calming me. I push the thoughts aside as I focus on the task at hand.

I'm meeting someone that has an in with the Italians and he's late. I scan through the restaurant until I see a tall gentleman in an all black suit. He walks towards me and I get up to greet him.

"Hello." I say curt and to the point. He sits across from me.

"I assume you'd like to skip the formalities." He says and I nod.

"Do you have it?"

I found out, through...questioning, that all Italian conversations are recorded and entered into a massive database. That meant that if Mr. Petrov was in on this, he'd be recorded. This man can, and has, hack it. Supposedly, Mr. Petrov is all over the tapes.

"I do. Payment?" He asks, his thick Italian accent coming through.

"How much?"

He shakes his head and leans in closer.

"I don't want your money." I look at him with furrowed brows.

"Kill him." I blink at him in confusion. Did he mean Gonzo? Or Mr. Petrov.

"Which one?" I ask.

"Both. Gonzo did things to my daughter. Mr. Petrov helped him. She was a great assassin. She realized what Gonzo was doing to women and told Mr. Petrov in hopes of gaining an ally. That didn't happen. They're in on everything together and neither of them can afford to lose their power. She was a threat."

My saliva turns to acid in my throat as his word slam into my skull.

They're a team.

They've been a team.

They hurt him together.

"I promise."

We whip our heads to the door as men in black rush through it. I hurriedly grab the tape and shove it in my bra, bracing myself for impact.

...

Tommy's POV

He woke up last week and she wasn't here.

He was and still is in agony and she's not here. Some fucking wife. I watch him as he downs his 4th glass of whiskey like it's water. He slams the cup down on the table as rage swims in his eyes. I stand in front of him begging him to eat like I have been for the last few days.

She should be here.

"Eat. Please." I grit out for the umpteenth time.

"Tommy." He says, warning me to stop, but I don't.

"You need to eat!" I scream.

He throws the glass across the room shattering it against the wall. He stands to his full height and glides towards me.

"I don't want to fucking eat. I don't want to fucking sleep or dream or breathe! But I promised you a long time ago that you'd never live without me and I'm trying really hard to keep that, so back off." He growls.

He's so tense that I can see his veins poke out.

Fucking hothead.

"Fine. Let's go punch some of that anger out?" I offer.

He nods.

We grab our coats and guns and head towards the door. I reach for the handle but it swings open for me.

A very bloody, very beaten Phoenix crashes through the door, barely conscious.

"I got it. I have it." She says, clutching a tape in her hands as she falls to the floor, out cold.