Empress Of Wrath, Blood And Desire

Chapter 2: The Empress

Hours have passed since leaving the apartment I have murdered that man after sleeping with him.

God, the sex was horrendous.

However, I recognized him as a soldier from one of the twelve mafia clans under the empire I was meant to rule when I noticed the crest on his thumb. I'm certain he was sent to bring me back home, and he chose to do it in a way he thought I wouldn't notice.

No matter where I go, or how far I run they will always come after me.

I am the true empress of the Velasco Empire and I do not want it, not now nor ever, and if it means killing every single person that comes after me, so be it.

My eyes scan the computer screen for what feels like the hundredth time, watching as the polished car speeds away, leaving the small body behind on the cold pavement.

I can't make out their face, or anything that might lead me to them, just that the person is tall and muscular, clearly a man.

I traced the license plate number, but it doesn't exist. I hacked into every security camera along the route he would have taken, hoping for a clear image, but every single one was out.

A heavy sigh escapes my lips as I watch the video again before slamming the computer shut, frustration and a deep, aching pain gnawing at me.

Damn it.

I excel at everything, hacking, tracking, decoding, coding, but I still can't find this one son of a bitch.

My gaze shifts to the wall, plastered with hundreds of images, different angles of the same video, and snapshots of the car he drove.

For four years, I've been hunting this bastard, but there's still nothing.

When I found the body, after breaking down, I tried to collect any lead I could, fingerprints, DNA, anything, but came up empty.

Whoever did this knew what they were doing.

Hissing with fury and frustration, I hop from the bed, popping my neck side to side and soughing at the palliative sensation that washes over my being.

I'm so damn tired. I haven't slept in days, maybe even months, which isn't good for anyone.

Walking over to the mirror, I pull my light brown hair out of its high ponytail, sighing as it falls in waves over my shoulders.

My light brown eyes trace the dark bags under my eyes and the lifelessness in my skin.

Without sleep, my body is slowly shutting down, and there's nothing I can do about it.

As much as I'd love to collapse into bed and sleep until my body is satisfied, I can't. Not when people are after me, not when I can't afford to let my guard down like I did before.

I won't make that mistake again.

I walk into the tiny bathroom of my even tinier apartment, sitting on the toilet as I rub my temples in exhaustion.

A few seconds later, I find myself under a cold shower, the water crashing down over my hair and body, my eyes shut tight as memories slam into me, vivid and unrelenting.

Damn it. I can't stop these memories, no matter how much I want to.

They're constant.

They torment me in ways I can't control, and I'm someone who knows how to control everything- everything except this.

After thirty minutes under the water, I step out, pulling on one of my dad's oversized T-shirts I stole years ago.

I reload my pistol, switch the safety on, and tuck it under the pillow next to where I'm supposed to lay my head.