~Julie~
I take my shoes off and tiptoe down the hall, past the cadets rooms to my room.
I quietly open the door and slide inside, shutting it so the latch doesn't make a sound. I loose a breath and turn around.
"Where've you been?" I nearly jump out of my skin when my mother speaks.
"Just out. I was just about to wake everyone up. Is there anything to do today?" I ask, steering the conversation away from my whereabouts. It doesn't work.
"That..boy is bad news, Julie. He's weak minded. Weak minded men are dangerous." She says. I want to ask why she cares. Why she feels that she has any right to an opinion over my life when she hasn't seemed to care for years.
But staying on brand, I bend to my cowardice. "Yes, mother." Is all I say.
She sighs, stands and grabs my shoulders. "I expected so much more from you. Where's that fire in your belly all of your sisters have? Did it skip right over you?"
Her words stab into me, but I force my face not to crumple, not to sob and rage at her words.
She drops her hands. "You have a mission with Igor Belov's step son in an hour. Do not embarrass me."
With that, she leaves without another word. I stare at the door she left ajar. There was a time when my mother actually lived up to her name. A time when she would sing to me. However, the bulk of her affection was always aimed at my father.
Then, he left. One night he just up and left and took my mothers affection right along with him.
That is when the Leader Supreme was born. A figure stands in the doorway.
"Ana?" I say in way of a hello.
"You okay? I saw mo-Leader Supreme leave." She says, automatically correcting herself.
"I'm fine. Listen, I have to go so you're in charge until I'm back. Whenever that will be." I say. I use my Commander's voice so that she understands this is not a familial request. She nods once before turning to leave.
"Ana." I say. She turns. "I'm glad you made it back." I love you seems too foreign. So foreign, in fact, that I've never actually uttered the words. Not to Danil not to anyone.
She smiles and leaves the room. I slip into my uniform, placing the blades in the slots like I've done a thousand times now. I braid back my hair in two small braids on each side, leaving some hanging near my face and some down in the back. The only form of self expression I have is my hair, so I do what I want with it. I pull my boots on, tucking the knives away in them and stand.
Rare, resilient, ruthless.
I roll my shoulders.
Rare, resilient.
I close my eyes and breathe in as deeply as I can.
Ruthless.
I shift into the personality that lets me be what I am. Let's me be the best at what I do.
I walk down the steps and out the door. The large man from the night before leans against the brick wall, arms crossed over his chest.
I roll my eyes. "You sure you're up for this?" I ask.
"Get on the bike." He snaps. The motorcycle sits behind him.
"Not a chance. We'll take my car." I turn to walk away when he grabs my wrist. I try to pull it back, but for the first time I'm sorely out muscled. He seems to understand this, a slow smile spreading over his face.
"What's wrong?" He asks, his dark brows knitting together. His eyes spark with cruel amusement.
"Don't touch me." I say, glaring at him. He drops my wrist and scoffs at me.
"Aren't you supposed to be the best at what you do?" He sneers.
I sigh, snatching a helmet off the back of his motorcycle. It seems as though there's one way out of this and that's through.
"Good girl." He says, his voice taunting. I clench and unclench my fists by my side, trying not to punch this man.
"You look like you want to punch me." He says, lifting my chin with his hand. I try to turn away, but his his vice grip won't let me move. His cold fingers dig into my cheeks, making my jaw ache.
"Do it." He purrs, his voice stern and dominating, dark as a moonless night. His pale eyes bore into mine, commanding me to look at him. His presence is suffocating, his scent closing in on me, boxing me in. I start to panic, shoving him back. He doesn't move. So I decide to use my words.
I conscientiously drag my eyes over his bruises on his face. He seems to realize what I'm doing and squeezes my jaw harder. "Looks like someone already did it for me. You and your step daddy close?" I let my words hit their mark. I'm rewarded when his eyes go so dark they seem to match mine.
But the next thing comes so fast I can't sense it or seem to stop it. His hand snaps out faster than a viper strikes, slamming into my nose and sending my head craning back. Blunt pain lances through me as I stumble back and grab my nose. My blood drops onto the snow, eerily similar to Polina's.
"Please tell me your faster than that. I don't want my life in the hands of an imbecile." He says, wiping the blood off his knuckles. My blood.
The familiar wrath grips my throat and spurs me into action as I kick my foot out, sweeping his legs. He's too fast though, and stomps down on my foot. I hiss and bring my knee up to his groin trying to bait him, ignoring my throbbing foot. He takes it. While his massive hands wrap around my leg, I hop up and sweep his foot with my free one, sending us toppling into the snow.
I hurry trying not to lose my advantage, to no avail. He moves swiftly, grabbing my thigh and pulling me directly under him. I go on the defensive, blocking my face with my arms.
"What a tragedy it would be if you were killed on the mission today." He snarls, wrapping a too large hand around my throat. Instinctively, my hands fly to his, scratching and clawing at them as I try every maneuver I've been taught to dislodge him. He doesn't budge. My breath turns raspy.
He's actually going to kill me. I should've let him die in the snow. My mother is right, I'm too soft.
"Better be on your game, Makovich." He sneers before letting me go. He grabs me by my uniform and hauls me to my feet, shoving the forgotten helmet back into my hands.
"Maybe I'll make a mistake, something I'm prone to do, and you'll be killed accidentally." I say, shrugging the helmet on.
"Do that and I'll take you down with me." He swings his leg over the bike. I do the same, using the handle bars on the back. "Suit yourself." He says.
I grab a knife out of my boot and keep it in my hand.
Just in case.
YOU ARE READING
Hell's Angel (18+)
Romance"She was the lightening and he was the fire that followed. Her anger was clear and precise, his would burn everything to the ground in one foul swoop." ... Mikhail Ivonav is the heir to the Russian Bratva. His father was killed in a suspicious manne...
