perfect disaster, Raya Arona [to read list TXT] 📗

clenched in my hand. a glass pane window gives me a full view of the world outside as I move.

The soft glow of the city lights has only an instant to shine on a glint of metal on the silenced-pistol I'm drawing from my back.

I soften my steps to near-silence as I reach the top floor, a wide and polished foyer leading to a single decorative door with a large man posted outside it, his arms folded as he thumbs through a dirty phone. He has time only to raise his head while I raise my pistol. When he crumples to the ground.

I walk over to the man's body, and the roaring laughter and music coming from inside the door tell me that not a soul heard my approach. I bend pressing an ear to the door.

The voices within are mostly men, some inaudible, some joyous, but all speaking in Russian, my previous tongue. But I hear some women.

"girls understand is a cock, don't you know?"

There's a sound of terrified, quiet voices I can't quite make out, but it's followed by laughter from the men

As they've been speaking, I've been sliding the master key into the lock and turning it quietly, slowly. My muscles tense as I hear heavy footsteps approaching the door, that coming faster than I expected. I throw it open, cracking the corner against the face of whoever was being sent, and he crumples to the ground as I move in and hold up my pistol.

The room is a haze of cigar smoke in the palpably tense instants I enter the penthouse. It's a luxurious suite, with marble floors and furniture giving the place the look of a classy antique.

I came in. There are two women in the room, one of them on a man's lap in an armchair, the

Other holding a tray of cocktails.

"how you get," one of the men hasn't time to finish growl at me before three rounds of my weapon strike true on all other three men at the bar, one of the women screams, and I duck behind the half-wall that leads into the room as things star breaks loose.

The remaining men stand up, some of them reaching for their guns as they dive for cover, and shouts in Russian fill the room. I'm out of sight, and I make a mental note to watch for those who've left the room.

Bullets hit the wall behind me as I duck, but I can tell from the number of shots that not all the men have weapons ready. I have only a matter of moments to end this before this place becomes a full firefight

I feel a sting on my right side I think the glue wound break open

Having been distracted by my wound, one of the armed men starts to turn to me, but I reach him first, grabbing his wrist and shoving his arm up as he fires, blasting a hole in his friend leg before he cries out as I break his wrist and bring my pistol to his heart and pull the trigger

Old reserves of adrenaline that have long lain dormant are extra pumping through my body as I watch the life eek out from the men I've just dropped.

My vision focused expecting to find armed men ready to take me on the moment I stepped through the doors, but there was no such welcoming party.

"That whore must mean a lot to you to show up after what you have done"

I recognize the man, even with his fuck face changed more too matured fuck face, and his steely eyes lock with mine.

"I warned you"

"Drop your gun," he commanded pointing his gun at my head with his dogs around

I let the weapon fall out of my hand. It's out of bullets anyway

I rise to my feet and dive for him, drawing a knife from my side, My body collides with his full-force, but I've caught him off-guard, and the two of us fall to the ground, struggling to grapple with each other.

Sergei is strong, but I am stronger. I may have been out of the killing business these past years, nothing lets a man like me forget his killer instinct.

I feel him wrapping his arm around my neck as he works his way behind me, and instinctively, I raise my knife defensively and slice his arm. I hear a scream of pain from him, and as we thrash, I catch a glimpse of the other mobster in the room, training his gun on us, trying to get in a good shot at me

Sergei grip loosens after I slice him, but I don't let him get away from me. The moment I leave myself exposed is the moment I sign my own death warrant. Instead, I twist with him on the ground, and I feel the cold metal of his gun brush against my arm. It's still in his hand.

In an instant, I move my knife around and draw it across his hand, making him recoil and drop the firearm.

Wrenching my knee free, I kick the pistol across the room and push him off me, using the moment of distraction to charge at the mobster in the doorway. He starts to point his gun at me as I close the distance, but I'm too fast for him. My free hand closes around his wrist with a sickening crunch, and he screams as he drops the gun

Wasting no time, my knife hand plunges the blade into his throat in two quick stabs

"Enough games, Chort"

My jaw clenches briefly. Sergei is indeed sharper than most of the men here.

"Move, and she dies," he says, calm and collected. The woman in his grip looks at me with wide, petrified eyes, and I know the one question on her mind is whether I value her life or not.

We stare each other in the eyes for several seconds. There's so much I want to snap back at him, so much I want to tell him of how much hatred I have for him.

But I will not play his games

"Nothing would happen if you accepted the mission and do that job I gave you, but you are so stubborn, why? because your dorogoy, suddenly the dead man cares so much"

He talks so much and I have no words to waste my breath on

I watch Sergei's attention snap back up to me for half an instant before my knife strikes true, sinking deep into his eye socket. Finally, Sergei slumps to the ground on his back, a trail of blood and fluid streaming down.

Well, I guess because I'm her mama now, and I will do anything to protect her from people like you and me

The woman recoils from the sight, some of the blood in her hair as she screams, my eyes moving to her momentarily before I walk over to look at the man's lifeless body before turning to her. She quiets, looking up at me in terror

"Go," I say simply, and it's a moment before she nods hastily and darts out of the room. I give her a few minutes head start to move around the house and ensure that everyone was dead

I think my job here is done

 

chapter 26 ... Kissing The Hot Bull

Fox

 

"No man, I'm sure I got you three"

I sighed shaking my head agreeing with whatever this shit was, but Rider seems like he won't drop it. 

"Fine, maybe Ashton was in need so he took it, just gives me a damn one while I finish gluing and we good"

Lifting my arm in the air giving up,  seriously, I feel zero energy, and it's damn late just a few hours to see the sun and we leaving again, as we speaking, I know she not doing good dealing with this whole shit, but I rather her tight sealed shut lips

I thought that would need a miracle to shut her, she is the biggest mouth I've ever see, She has a wisecrack for everything and she wouldn't hastate to spill it out moreover sometimes I find her do that creepy talk

She talks to herself and starts waiving negotiating herself even sometimes with no warning she burst laughing at god knows what. and it's really creepy, and she says I'm creepy, for me I gave up on my idea of discovering that girl and see her inside, hell the outside is scary enough

But as I look at her sleeping form every day, tense and protective when most people are completely lax, I realize what a dumbass idea that was.

It's going to take more than sitting on the porch or running for a few weeks to recover, Even trained soldiers need time to recover, and Anastasia didn't have any training. When I was part of Special Ops we all went through training on surviving capture and torture, which basically meant being captured and tortured.

A group of older soldiers would kidnap you and take you to a solitary cell. They'd place a wet towel on your face and leave you there. At first, you feel like the towel is nothing. You can survive a towel. But an hour or so of being immobilized, sucking in the wet fabric with every breath and then having more water poured over your mouth and nose and into your ears while you vomit into your mouth and then swallow it back—all the while choking on the fabric, puke, and water—is hell. Then when you are about to pass out or you think you'll die

the towel is ripped away and you're stuck in a room where lights flicker off and on while random noises are piped in, sometimes for what seems for hours at a time and others randomly. After that, you listen to your friends call out from the next room while they seem to be tortured or raped and they are calling out your name, begging you to help them, save them 

But you can't do anything.

Oftentimes the soldiers trying to get into the Special Forces fail these mental tests, not the physical ones. Lots of people can swim, run, and carry a rucksack weighing a hundred and fifty pounds for twenty-six miles. Not many can survive mental torture and not come out of it a deadweight victim.

 So what if she broke down? That shit's normal. I could barely say more than two words when I finished my psychological training.

"Here", I snapped off my thoughts at Rider's voice butting the bottles on the sink, I look at his reflection  and nod thanks

"You okay?" he asked, but I know he means everything but my health state 

"yeah never been better", and finish rolling myself with the gauze

"You know what I mean," he said resting on the sink, god he won't drop it, he got a rock head

"You think this game of yours will go unnoticed?" he snarls. "You think the Bratva will just roll over and play along with your wishes, you just upstart?"

"He deserved it, and honestly, that's what I had to do a long time ago, you know he was a pain in the ass just because we were less than him just because he is fucken Bratva and we are nobody"

"Fine, you are right" he shakes his head in understanding, he knows I'm right and I know deeply