Rose Thorns & Love Letters

9 ➪ Love, Isaac

•Phoenix•

7/7/1869
Dear Eleanor,
My sweet, sweet Eleanor. I can no longer reserve a place in your heart. We must terminate the love we have for one another. I realised that your deep affection and tenderness is a privilege. A privilege I do not deserve to have. You deserve a man who can fulfil every desire your heart longs for. I am not that man. I apologise.
Love, Isaac

__________________

"I'm not quite sure how big this hit'll be, but I think sending at least 15 of your men and 15 of mine to the Subterranean should work." Sullivan advises. I nod my head in response despite the meeting being held on a phone call.

"How long will it take?" I inquire. I respect Sullivan, however my men cannot spend hours on a mission because of a mistake one of his men made.

Sullivan, better known as Karma in the Underground world is a close ally of mine. When my Father was killed and I had to find and replace all of my Father's men with my own, he sent his men on missions alongside the very few men I did have.

Although his only intention was to build a good reputation and make an ally out of anyone, it worked out very well in my favour.

I promised I would make it up to him somehow and it just so happens that one of his rookie soldiers had a good time with the Subterranean Chief's daughter. He now craves the blood of Karma's whole organisation.

The Subterranean is an underground operation. All things secret, all things illegal. What happens in the Subterranean stays in the Subterranean.

Karma's organisation happens to be affiliated with the Subterranean. Mafias and branches of Mafias tend to stay away from it. They call it safe, I call it pussy.

The Chief paints himself out to be a powerful, influential, and dominating man. He is not. The opposite if anything. His wife left him 3 and a half years ago and due to his insecurity and vulnerability, he has kept all of the other women in his life within arm's reach.

"An hour, max." Karma states.

"Consider it taken care of."

The phone falls silent and I shift my attention to my computer. I try to focus on the bright screen and the words that appear on it. Focus. Focus. Focus.

Fuck, I'm losing focus.

I can't stop my mind from drifting back to our last interaction. Camilla and I's interaction. I scold myself for telling her about my past, telling her about my Mother, and definitely telling her about my Father.

This is nothing more than a mission. The first mistake I made was allowing her words affect me in the way in which I felt obliged to let her in.

The whole point of my meets with her is to find out more about her and her Father. As of current, it feels like she knows more about me and my Father.

I quickly shut off my computer, disturbed by the blaring light it creates. My brain feels as though it is swelling and the room's temperature is rising by the second.

I unhook the first three buttons of the black button down shirt I have chosen to wear today. I roll up my sleeves before opening my desk drawer and retrieving an unopened cigarette pack.