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...
I'm taking a break for a few weeks, everything in my life is honestly so stressful and draining, and even when I lay in bed all day writing isn't something I do to pass the time. During this break, I'll be trying my best to write and try to get better at handling my grief and my life and then come back with loads of new chapters for you guys. I understand you may be upset with my decision but I need time to fix myself and get better.
I'll be back soon, hopefully, Speak now (Taylor's Version), and somehow getting tickets to the Eras tour will make me feel better! :)
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ATHENA RUSSO:
As I walk into the room, the men bow their heads at me in respect. I keep my head held up high, Ivan walking behind me.
I promised my revenge and I'll get it.
The sounds of the doors shutting and locking, make me excited.
Now that I control the Russian mafia I can kill whoever I want. Every single one of my men who deserves to be dead is in this room.
I stand in front of all of them on the stage and Ivan brings one of them up onto the stage.
"Everyone of you who is sitting down in this room will die today," I announce, walking to the man who's been forced onto a chair. "You will sit and watch the others die until it is your turn," I explain, taking my gun out and turning the safety off.
They all stay silent, shocked.
The man on the chair shakes his head at me, "Please—"
Without hesitation, I point the gun at the man's head and pull the trigger.
"Next."
They take the dead man off the chair and replace him with another man.
I walk behind him and force him to look up at me, I give him a smile, "I'll make it quick," I whisper.
He closes his eyes as I pull my knife out. I slit his throat and let go of him, "Next."
This goes on for ten minutes and so far half the room is empty, the walls and floors and my clothes are stained red.
I shoot the man and blood splatters onto my cheek. I wipe the blood off of my face with my finger, and slowly I bring my finger up to my lips and suck it off.
"Next," I demand.
These men have accepted their fates, there is no escape. They all watch the others die, wishing it will be the next so they don't have life in fear anymore.
They want to die.
They bring another man onto the blood-stained chair, "Make it quick," he begs.
