One-1
2116 Words
I hope it’s just as pretty where you are…
W x
LOOKING OUT THE tinted window of my black SUV, I thumb over the corner of the tattered postcard. “I wish it was…дорогая.”
Speaking that name almost feels blasphemous as I haven’t allowed myself to think of her often. But beneath this expensive suit, this cold-blooded stare, lies a broken man, something I never considered myself capable of.
I’ve endured the consequences of the many choices I’ve made throughout my life. But when she made a choice, when she chose the better man and ripped out my heart, those consequences weren’t so easily accepted.
Someone who was meant to be my prisoner, in turn, made me hers.
As I focus on the postcard’s picturesque landscape, it seems Willow and Saint are lost in paradise. The postmark says it was sent from somewhere off the coast of Italy, but I know Saint—he doesn’t leave tracks.
That bastard was a thorn in my side, but now that he’s gone, I realize what he was, and that was a friend. In light of our circumstances, I understand how ridiculous that sounds, but I respected him, and in his own way, I think he respected me.
But none of that matters because they’re in the past.
Eighteen months have passed, and although it feels like only yesterday when I laid my eyes on a woman who set my entire world on fire, it’s not.
Things have changed.
I have changed.
I carefully fold the postcard in half as the worn crease threatens to tear if I don’t handle it with care. This is the only thing I have left of Willow, and unlike when she was with me, I will keep it safe.
A tap on my window reminds me that I am obsessing over a postcard like a lovestruck дурак. Quickly placing it into my inner jacket pocket, I open the door and greet Pavel. He’s the closest thing I have to a friend even though I know when he looks at me, he’s reminded of everything I’ve done.
“Ready?” Pavel asks, scoping out our surroundings.
This deserted neighborhood is no stranger to illegal dealings, which is why I chose this location. A tortured scream and a gunshot ringing out in the dead of night aren’t uncommon occurrences.
Once upon a time, I ruled this city, but now, I’m forced to hide in the shadows. My past has made me hated by all. The good, the bad, and the in-betweens all want me dead. I’ve been labeled a traitor, and that’s because I am.
I happily sacrificed the lives of my “friends” because their spilled blood granted her freedom. Everyone can hate me, and I don’t care. I only seek forgiveness from one person. But it’ll never come.
Pushing such sentiments aside, I focus on the task at hand and what’s important—violence and vengeance.
My Glocks sit snugly in my shoulder holster as I’m now the one responsible for taking out the trash. But honestly, I like it. It’s the only time I feel like I’m in control once again. Stepping from the SUV, I button my suit jacket and reach into my pocket for a Cuban cigar. This calls for a celebration, after all.
I was knocked from my throne, and I won’t lie, I don’t like sitting at the bottom of the food chain, especially when the new “king” of this town is a worthless son of a b***h.
Cupping my cigar, I light it slowly, savoring the tobacco hit. It’s the simple things in life that give me great pleasure—a neat scotch, a good Cuban, and slitting my half-brother’s throat.
That night, eighteen months ago, we all lost something. Lives were lost as was love. As I can’t do anything to rectify the deaths of Ingrid, Zoey, and Sara, I live with their deaths on my conscience every single day.
But the only way I can ensure their deaths aren’t in vain is to find Serg Ivanov and deliver him the same fate. I killed his father, my stepfather, and I plan on doing the same thing to him. Twirling my pinkie ring, the one which once belonged to Boris Ivanov, gives me great pleasure knowing that tonight brings me one step closer to achieving this.
Pavel and I commence a casual stroll toward the abandoned warehouse. Even if someone is watching, no one will dare get involved. Pavel reaches for his gun the moment we enter through the back door. I, however, continue smoking my cigar. It’s all about the simple pleasures, remember?
It’s a warm night, and the sun has just set. There is an electrical pulse thrumming. It’s an evening when magic can happen, and what I see before me only accentuates the feeling.
A string of incoherent mumbles fills the air, and even though I can’t make out what he’s saying, it’s safe to assume Viktor Belov is one unhappy boy. I mean, he is tied to a chair in the middle of a rat-infested warehouse.
Stopping several feet away, I peer down at him, continuing to puff on my cigar leisurely. The calmer I am, the more irate he becomes. See, I told you I’m a simple man.
As Viktor is Serg’s right-hand man, I plan to take his right hand as punishment. Pavel’s patience is wearing thin, however, and he storms over to Viktor, ripping out his gag.
Viktor moves his jaw from side to side. “скотина!”
I reply by blowing out a ring of smoke high in the air.
“You are nothing.” He spits, wishing me to know what he thinks of me. All this does is cement my decision to cut out his tongue. “I’m not telling you anything. You may as well kill me now.”
As he continues to ramble, I look down at my Rolex. At this rate, I’m going to be late, so I decide to get this show on the road. With my cigar between my lips, I reach into my shoulder holster and am overwhelmed by a shiver when I come into contact with the cool metal.
“Hello, Viktor. How’s your mother?” I ask casually, producing my gun.
Viktor isn’t surprised I’m carrying, but rather, that I’m asking how his dear old mother is. “If you’re trying to blackmail me into talking, then you’ll need to try another tactic, Мудак!”
Tsking him, I take a draw of my cigar with my left hand. My right is busy with my gun trained on him. “You kiss your mother with that mouth? I must pay her a visit and inform her of your insolence. I fear she’d be most disappointed.”
He scoffs, incredulous, but when I rattle off her address, he realizes I’m not playing.
“So this will go one of two ways. You tell me where that piece of s**t is, and I kill you. Or you tell me where that piece of s**t is, and I kill you. The choice is yours,” I offer with a smirk because there isn’t a choice.
His fate is decided. And I’m fine with that.
He struggles against his restraints, grunting in anger. “Your brother—”
“Half-brother,” I correct, curling my lip in disgust.
“He is the new king of this town. You are a joke.”
Oh, this waste of space is really testing my time and now, my patience. “We’re going to have to agree to disagree because he wishes he were a king. He’s merely a scared little boy, hiding behind his mother’s skirt.”
His mother, Zoya—who is sadly also mine—is the reason he was able to infiltrate my empire and ensure it came crashing to the ground. So it goes without saying that she must also pay for her crimes. She made her choice—we all did—and now, it’s time we deal with the aftermath.
Viktor isn’t going to talk, but that’s okay. We all have our weaknesses. And I plan to exploit his. “Your loyalty to a bottom-feeder will get you and your family killed.”
He bursts into laughter. “Please, you’d be doing me a favor. I’d pay you to kill my свинья of a wife. And I doubt those kids are even mine. So if this is your grand plan, you lose—again. The feared Aleksei Popov is nothing but yesterday’s news.”
Pavel yawns beside me.
Tsking Viktor, I decide to put an end to his theatrics because I have someplace to be. “You know what separates me from Serg? I earned my place by adapting to my environment. That’s what a victorious leader does.
“I ensured I knew every single thing about my enemies because when the time came, I would use this for my gain. Like right now.”
Walking toward Viktor, I smoke my cigar casually. “It appears you’ve been a very busy boy, going back and forth between your wife and mistress. I don’t know how you can keep up.”
I take great pleasure in seeing him pale.
“Why don’t you just divorce her?” I ask. Even though I know the answer, I just want to see him squirm.
Before he has a chance to reply, I tap my forehead as if I’m struck with an epiphany. “Maybe it’s because your beloved is married herself? What do you think would happen if her husband knew the son he loves so much is actually yours?”
Viktor stops struggling. We all have a price. And I’ve just found his.
“You bastard,” he snarls while I shrug offhandedly.
“Just like your son.”
“You wouldn’t hurt them,” he says, but the small quiver to his tone reveals his doubt.
“You’re right, I wouldn’t,” I reply with a nod. “All you need to do is tell me what I want.”
“I tell you that, and you kill me anyway!” he yells, spittle coating his chin. “I’m f****d either way.”
Desperation reveals a man’s true colors. If he cowers in the face of fear, then you know if you prod hard enough, he’ll eventually budge. Viktor is the perfect example of this.
“Yes, your fate is already decided. But for once in your miserable existence, you can do something right and save someone’s life; not take it away.”
I know Viktor’s secrets. He wasn’t selected by Serg for his physical prowess. He’s a cold-blooded killer, and no one is off-limits. This isn’t an excuse as to why I will feel nothing for ending him. He’s a bad man. But I suppose, so am I.
When Viktor shakes his head firmly, sealing his lips shut, I decide he needs a little encouragement. Taking one last pull of my cigar, I savor the hit as I hate to waste it, but…
Without hesitation, I press the scalding end into Viktor’s cheek, appreciating his cries for mercy and the smell of burning flesh. He seems to forget he’s tied to a chair as he desperately struggles to pull away.
“Where is Serg?” I ask calmly, forcing the cigar deeper into his cheek. His flesh bubbles under the heat, and a small part of me yells that he’s had enough. I realize that part only exists because of Willow. What would she say if she were here?
But she’s not. She made her choice. And I’ve made mine.
Being vulnerable is for the weak; something I will never be again. I am where I am because I tried this humanity suit on for size, but guess what? It doesn’t fit. I’d much rather this suit of armor because its impenetrable walls protect me from this disgusting thing they call love.
“Okay! He, he…” Viktor’s spluttering reminds me of the task at hand as I’d forgotten I currently had a burning ember pressed to his cheek. “He moves around a lot. He knows being at one location will get him killed.”
I decide to remove the cigar before there isn’t any flesh left to burn.
Viktor whimpers in relief when I toss it to the ground, but that is short-lived when I press the muzzle of my gun to his temple. “He has to have a base. I want to know where that is. I also want to know where Raul is.”
Raul is Chow’s son—the double-crossing asshole I killed because he was selling his product to both Serg and me. Since I’m out of the game, there is no competition, so people have no choice but to do business with a bottom-feeder like Serg. But that’s about to change. Just as he did to me, I’m going to bring down his empire and claim back what is rightfully mine.
If this were most, they’d be thankful they were still alive. But not me. All I feel is this burning desire to make those who took from me pay. Me being alive highlights the error of my ways. I was too soft, too blinded by something that will never be mine—and that’s a happily ever after.
I hate to disappoint you, but if you’re looking for a story with a hero, then you best turn back now. This is the point of no return.
- Writer
