It's time for Athena Russo to get her revenge on the ones that have wronged her. People will try to stop her, but she's blinded by hatred. She's waited for this moment for the past five years, and we all know nothing is better than revenge. Nothing...
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ATHENA RUSSO:
It was a masterpiece.
The way I pulled the trigger. The way the bullet pierced into Levi's chest. The way I moved like a ghost. The way that I made sure no one knew, saw, or heard me. The way I caused death in the darkness was pulchritudinous.
I fucking loved it.
My heels click against the marble floor as I walk down the empty hallway. I pull my hood down and run a hand through my hair.
I may have not been able to cut off Levi's dick but I don't care. It was supposed to be quick and careful. And it was.
I open the double doors and step outside,
I immediately halt when I see him standing in front of me.
Hades.
I don't move a single muscle as I stare up at him.
Why is he even here? He should be inside with the others. And is this going to be an occurrence? It better not. I don't need him showing up when I get my revenge.
He stares down at me with his green eyes, a small smirk growing on his face.
"You're a liar," he states, moving closer to me.
Ah. He's calling me a liar because I lied about my name. Oh, wait. No. That wasn't it. He's calling me a liar because I told him I had nothing to do with the last death. Yes. Now that makes sense.
"I am. A very good liar," I say, smiling at him.
He looks down at my attire and raises an eyebrow. "I've been waiting all night for you—"
"I'm sorry I'm not taking autographs tonight. Now if you don't mind, move out of my way so I can leave."
A cruel wicked smile falls onto his features. He stays in his spot, with no intention of moving.
I scoff and push him away but he doesn't budge. What the hell? What is he made of? Bricks?
He grabs my wrists, not once breaking eye contact as he says, "I detest you. I despise you. I loathe you. How can I feel such hate when I've only spoken to you once?"
He narrows his eyes at me, waiting for a response.
So I give him one.
I shrug, "I'm not quite sure Mr. Volkov. I just seem to have that effect on people."
"And I don't doubt it gets you in trouble everywhere you go."
"That's where you're wrong. I'm here with you and I'm not in trouble."
"Yet."
Noticing the blood on his neck, I examine the cause of it. A small cut. It seems like Mr. Volkov has been walking around in the gardens.
