Adrik
When I claimed her, that was it. I made her mine and betrayed her. She longed for a story that wasn't mine to narrate, so I did the only thing a man like me would-I sent her back. Little did I know the secret she was keeping. The worst of all...
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I rushed through the chilled night of New York City with the rage that blinded the red traffic lights. My grip on the steering wheel turned my knuckles white as it was my only option other than snapping Marco's fucking neck.
He sat quietly with a shirt open, tie loose, unphased by the harsh winter wind. It's nothing compared to Russia's winter, and we were too heated with the fucking knowledge that Clara is an assassin.
"You can stop fucking looking at me like that!" Marco hissed. "You may want to kill me now, but I'm telling you, I'm as angry as you are."
"You crossed the fucking line by not listening to me. Wasn't Clara the one who warned Giulia about the Russians in Chicago? Or how she pointed a fucking gun in my face that afternoon." I hissed.
He ignored me and pulled his laptop from the back seat. "I'm the one going to punish Clara." He still spoke with that possessiveness like I gave a fuck.
"Don't fucking forget who's your boss, Marco. I trust my instincts, and they told me Fyodor's time wasn't up yet." I swerved the corner, almost colliding into a fucking lamp. "And if you fucking think she won't come for me, too, you're as fucking dumb as I claim you to be."
"You speak as if you're the only fucking one she betrayed—"
"I didn't fuck her," I growled. "You let her into my fucking mother's house and no doubt she sneaked out into the middle of the night to get her fucking entry routes. She used you to get revenge!" Marco ran his hand through his hair, then typed furiously at his laptop keys.
"Ublyudok." I cursed when the red and fucking blue lights of a cop car shone in the distance. I'm not dealing with Americans today because I'd empty the clip of my gun into the cop's head, and it'll be me with the fucking bounty on his head.
"Where the fuck is she?" We were getting closer to the airport, and that fucking cop car was on my tail with its fucking blaring sirens. I needed to lose it.
"Her phone is still in Switzerland." He continued typing as I swerved corners left and right, trying to balance my attention to the rearview mirror and the road. "Der'mo!" Marco yelled.
"Put her skills to use, huh?" I snarled, entering a dark alley between cafes. We didn't have time to waste. I wanted Clara alive and well, hoping she could take my wrath.
Marco turned the laptop, and I glared at Clara behind her desktop, with the image of Marco and I in this fucking car. "Ya ub'yu etu suku!" I roared, waiting for the fucking cop car to drive past. Marco continuously hit the car's roof, vomiting a list of Russian profanities.
Translation: I'll kill this bitch!
"You figured it out, Mikhailov." Clara grinned, bringing back her fucking Mexican accent. That sneaky bitch! "I had to live fifteen years with the image of my parents' dead bodies haunting me. The worst was seeing my mother's head gone into bits and pieces." She snarled, her lips curling with disgust as she revisited the memory. "They shot both whilst I hid. An eight-year-old had to suffer because your fucking father couldn't wait for his change. It's a fucking pity I couldn't deliver that same fate to the hijo de puta, but Tetrodotoxin did its job. And so is mine done." She smirked, pulling out a gun, and the screen went blank.
