A Russian Storm on a London Night

Chapter 1

Snow swirled down from the London night as Sir Jacob Frye hurried down the street. He only had one thing on his mind, and he was damned if anything got in his way. He knew deep in his heart that he would not hesitate to stoop to killing if it meant that the mission would be over and done with faster.

Within minutes, the Black Thorn came into view, and if anything, the sight of the brothel only made the man speed up until he was almost at a sprint. He reached the front doors and entered, his eyes alive with fury.

"Where is the madame?" he demanded to know in a furious voice. All activity inside the brothel came to a halt at the angry man glared into nothingness.

"Ah, welcome back-" cooed the woman, scuttling out from her office, wearing too much makeup and a twitching smile. She ignored the death stared the man was giving her as she turned and waved over a prostitute. "Lily dear, can you go get a room-"

"I'm not here for pleasure," growled Jacob, taking out a letter from the pocket of his coat and shoving it into the woman's hands. "Where is she?"

The madame's face turned ugly at the words on the letter and barked out a cruel laugh.

"You fancy a go with her? Be my-" she started to scoff before being slammed into the wall, Jacob's hands wrapped around her throat. The letter in her hands fluttered down to the floor.

"You offer her body out?" Jacob's fingers began to squeeze the air from her throat as anger clouded his vision. "I'll ask once more- where is she?"

"Madame keeps her in the attic," Lily offered, her tired eyes strong and determined. "Follow me."

She limped her way towards the stairs and Jacob all but threw the madame from his sight before hurrying after the young woman. They passed by many bedrooms, where loud sounds of women pleasuring their customers reached Jacob's ears. He gritted his teeth and focused on reaching the attic with Lily.

Lily found a candle and lit it, holding the source of light close to her as she ventured deeper into the hallway, stopping below a trapdoor and pointing to it.

"She's up there," she explained. "Anna?"

Jacob's heart clenched in his chest as he waited for some sign. Slowly, the trapdoor loudly creaked open and a dirty face peered out at the assassin. Jacob had to steady himself at the sight of the four year old girl. Right off the bat, he knew that she was the spitting image of her mother, with her flaming red hair and delicate bone structure. But the eyes that were staring down at him were a dark hazel green.

"Anna," Jacob smiled at her, removing his hat. "I'm here to take you to a better life- a life that you deserve."

A small smile crept onto her face and she disappeared from the trapdoor, leaving it open. She appeared a moment later, draped in a thin shawl and carrying an old doll. She sat on the edge of the trapdoor, her skinny legs and dirty, bare feet dangling.

"You'll catch me?" she whispered in a hungry voice.

"I promise," he smiled, holding his arms open to show her that he would indeed keep his promise. She hesitated before taking a leap of faith with her eyes squeezed shut. Jacob caught her, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from swearing- Anna weighed barely anything at all.

"Are you ready to leave here and start a new life?" he asked her softly, tucking her into his jacket, hoping to banish the frigid early December chill from snuffing out her already dim flame of life. Slowly, she nodded, resting her head against his collarbone. Jacob wasted no time at all, whisking the little girl from the brothel and into a carriage, giving the driver stern directions to make all haste to his home.