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"DO YOU KNOW WHO THE FUCK I AM?!"
"Enlighten me."
"Fuck you!"
My legs were free. Mustering the remaining strength I had left, I used all brute force to kick him in the face.
He skillfully swerved me, his hands finding their way to my neck. F...
"The start of chaos has the end of silence" ~Amour-seraph
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I fell face forward onto the white sheets of my bed, suffocating into the darkness as the coldness enveloped my face.
The stinging on my cheek slowly subsiding as the warmth disperses in the covers, I allowed my mind to run wild.
Fucking Italians.
Who were they? And what did they want? Why attack the most powerful Mob in New York? They got some balls. Making the Russians an enemy is a war they cannot win and that's a fact.
And more importantly.. What's going to happen to me?
Turned into a stripper overnight.
What sort of Cinderella bullshit is this?
Dammit. I need to kill someone.
Ranking me below my capabilities is an insult that not even the Devil can put past me. Not that there's anything wrong with stripping, just the fact that I go from being the Reaper at day to a stripper at night, whilst being the Pakhan's unwanted daughter throughout.
The repeated knocking on the door breaks me away from my fevered thoughts. I lifted my head to see a greeting maid with a steaming mug intertwined between her hands.
"Miss, your coffee." She nodded.
"Leave it on the desk besides you. You may leave." I grunted, planting my face back into the comforts of my sheets.
An exhausted, muffled groan escaped from my lips as my head rolls onto the silky sheets so that I was now facing towards the ceiling. Softened by the pliant material, my eyes momentarily shut for a second of quietness.
I need an action plan.
The choice between stripping and leaving the mob was unquestionable. I will not, never, ever, for the life of me and on my soul leave the Mob.
Why?
It's plain and simple. I was born into the world. So I will die in this world. My loyalty is as solid as a rock and cannot be wavered, despite the hardship and mistreatment I may consider, the Mob is all I grew up to know.
I was shielded from the world growing up. Heck, I don't even know if I even got a birth certificate or a passport. But the point being, the name Sabina Pavlova does not exist. I'm practically a ghost.
Being the Reaper is easy. I don't see it being just killing people that causes the wrongdoings in this world. It's more like me playing the Devil's advocate and allowing these damned people to beg for forgiveness and mercy. Like a form of repentance.
Finally deciding to lift myself off the bed, I began to shift to sit on the edge.
Well, there's no point in prolonging the inevitable.
