From The Dark | Peter Parker x OC ✔️

Chapter Forty-Eight

A/N: I started to read This Lullaby again and I almost forgot how amazing of a writer Sarah Dessen is. I really love her books.

Also, HAVE YOU GUYS SEEN ALL THE BEW MOVIES MARVELS GONNA RELEASE. THOR 4 AND A WHOLE FREAKING SHOW WITH VIZ AND WANDA AHHHHHHHH. IM GONNA BE SO BROKE NEXT YEAR TRYING TO WATCH ALL THESE MOVIES ARSFJGRSDL

No time for reviews c uzmy l aptopdo esnthave wifi and my phone is glitching as ypu can see. :/

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"Run faster, Penis!"
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MOSCOW, RUSSIA
11:45 PM

It was raining in the capital of Russia.

Stubborn people were still cruising the streets despite the downpour. The homeless were scurrying for shelter. The streets were in gridlock as everyone rushed home all at once. Police sirens could be heard nearby and in the distance.

A peculiar man with an even more peculiar eye patch found himself standing in front of a small church in the big city. With a thin sweater and a cap over his head, he didn't turn many heads. Perhaps it was the rain that prevented people from stopping and studying the stranger standing stationary in front of the church, undisturbed by the rain.

Another man, much more hooded, approached the stranger to stand beside him. Clothed in black slacks and a sweater vest and accompanied with a cane, he didn't demand much attention either. Except, of course, now there were two peculiar men idly standing in front of a church in the pouring rain.

The older of the men, having seemed to realize this, took the first step forward towards the aging church door and his companion followed suit. Upon entering the church, they were greeted with silence and shelter from the rain.

They took a seat in the last row, the one closest to the door and they sat on either side of the aisle, keeping a distance between them. For a while, they enjoyed the silence which inevitably wouldn't last long as they knew. Unmoving in their seats, they simply stared ahead.

"You failed," the older man finally said.

"Failed wouldn't be the word I'd use," the other man replied with the corner of his lips tugging into a wicked smile of some kind.

"You had one job and you failed."

"Moscow," Graves noted with a smile, "Not the place I'd choose to be hiding from the world."

"Well I'm lucky you aren't choosing for me then," he remarked humorlessly, "The girl, Graves."

"She's fine," Graves replied, rolling his eyes. He pulled the soaking cap off of his head, holding it in his hands. Water from his short hair trailed down his neck.

"You scared her," he accused, "Trapped her in a fire."

"I rattled her cage and I knew she would find a way out," Graves shrugged, unaffected by the old man's cold demeanor, "You've done much worse."

Lukov ignored his comment.

"Your job was to keep an eye on her," Lukov said, finally turning to face him, "not get involved."

He hadn't aged significantly in the time since Graves had seen him last. Rather, the retired minister looked better than before. As anyone would suspect he would — he was so close to his triumph. Beady black eyes and jet black hair starkly contrasted his paper white skin. He looked sick and Graves knew better than anyone that Lukov was a sick and twisted man.