𝚮𝐢𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫 | 18+

10 || SIGMA

𝕥𝕖𝕝𝕝 𝕞𝕖 – 𝕤𝕒𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕒 𝕔𝕝𝕒𝕦𝕕𝕚𝕠
CHAPTER TEN | SIGMA
𓆩❤︎𓆪𓆩❤︎𓆪𓆩❤︎𓆪

It was another hour before Storm found out why Sophia was so angry. She had seen his brand on her thigh and she wasn't happy. Unlike Storm, she thought the brand was insulting. To her, it was the stupid sigma brand he wore on his neck that he'd branded her with as though she was his.

Sophia didn't say that, however. Instead, she said something about it being crooked. Storm disagreed, however. He'd done a great job holding her down and situating it. And even if it was crooked it was her fault and not his. He made no mistakes.

Sophia, however, disagreed and said that he made mistakes, saying that killing her family had been a mistake, leading to another bickering session and Sophia grabbing a knife and chasing him around in her wheelchair with it. It was a sight that Storm never thought he'd see. He didn't know whether to laugh or roll his eyes.

It was, however, safe to say that he was highly amused by her craziness. He couldn't take her dainty self seriously, after all. Despite his amusement, he masked it with annoyance and anger.

"I will break all your fingers," he warned, glaring at the little girl as she swung the knife back and forth. He had perhaps pushed her too far when he told her how much he'd enjoyed killing her brother. He'd hit a sore spot, it'd seem.

Storm wasn't exactly lying, however. He really did hate children. And he'd especially disliked her brother despite him being three years his senior. He had a lengthy history with her family. It was mandatory due to the influence they held over the Bratva and his father's high opinion of the Kuznetsov name—especially of Artyom.

Sophia's eyes filled with fury, so bright and dangerous she could barely contain the burning infernos in her eyes. It was only inevitable that she'd snap at him as she did. "You don't think you've done enough!"

"No." And that was the truth. He still wanted her pretty eyes in a pickle jar. That way he could always have a part of the blue-blooded princess with him everywhere. And he'd always preferred black over any other colour. Imagine him having a blonde wallet. He couldn't help but curl his upper lip in disgust at that notion.

He'd never truly liked blondes despite what the evidence showed. Storm had spent his early days with a string of blonde models. But they were all too vanilla for him, however, he quickly realised. So he moved on to Andrej's blonde bunnies or as he called them whores. Storm cared less about a woman's appearance and more about what she brought to the table and how tight she felt around him.

But alas the two were increasingly difficult to find, and he wasn't trying to find someone either. Storm wasn't built for a life of simple marital pleasures. He was born a made man and made into a ruthless killer. That was all he knew. Sex, money and murder. That was all he wanted.

Sophia rolled her wheelchair back with a frown, her grip on the knife tightening as the hairs on the back of her neck stood at the unwanted attention of Storm's eyes. She recognised the look all too well and knew the immoral thoughts that were running through his mind. She refused to be made into a creepy object to the collection he kept in his lair. "Don't look at me like that!"

He'd had it with her. Glaring at her, he took her wrist, wrung it till she cried out and dropped the knife, making it clatter on the floor. "I warned you," Storm sighed and picked up the knife with a raised brow, snapping it in half like it was as fragile as a spaghetti strand and not steel.

Sophia flinched before lowering her gaze, making herself small in an attempt to shield herself from him. He'd proved his point. He'd been as clear as a crystal can be. He could kill her and he would if she did not behave.