Donna

12

f*****g b***h. SHE STOLE HALF A MILLIONS WORTH of coke. I'm gonna f*****g kill her.

“When are you going f*****g kill her?” Yuri complains.

I swish my whiskey, looking at him distastefully.

“When I f*****g kill her.”

Blondie sits up straight in his bar stool, glaring at me.

“And when will that be? After she's killed everyone we've ever met, and stolen every dime we've ever owned?”

I cut my eyes at him, throwing back the whiskey, feeling it burn through me.

“When I kill her Yuri.”

I track her down to an Italian restaurant, cue eye roll, and wait for her to leave.

She knows I'm here. I corner her in an alley she doesn't need to be in to get home, and shove her up the building.

“Really?” I sneer at her.

She grins. “Really.”

I'm going f*****g kill her.

“You think this s**t is funny?”

With a shrug, she incites my temper, moves my hand, flips out my blade, point it to her chest, inhaling her.

Why the f**k does she smell so good? Everyone knows it's hard to kill people who smell good.

Then I run with that bullshit logic, and I hate her a little more.

“I'm going f*****g kill you,” I murmured, more petulant than anything.

“I know, Vitya.”

I take the blade down the middle of her body, cutting her dress open for me.

“You think I won't but I will.” I say to her t**s as I suck them into my mouth.

“I know, Vitya.”

I glare at her and bite her n****e.

“Shut the f**k up.”

We both know what's going to happen. I'm going f**k her in this alley, we'll go out separate ways, and the next time one of us attacks the other, we'll meet again, and f**k again.

I'll hate her a little more.

She'll resent me a little more.

Because we both like control, and honestly, neither of us have it.

DECEMBER 25TH IS THE DAY s**t WENT DOWNHILL. Downhill, underground, down to hell, and anything deeper than that. We generally kept a low profile, only attacking Estates, warehouses, things like that.

But that s**t was damaging to both of us, and neither really knew what we were fighting for.

None of us did.

The f*****g Italians they just went where she told them, and all other Families, just hated Russians.

It's like we're engrained to hate each other. Since way back, the Cosa Nostra, and the Bratva beef because we're the only major crime syndicates, and you can't be friends with the competition.

It's deep seeded, it doesn't have to have a why.

I'm Russian. They're Italian. That's it.

But underlying that is Roksana and I. Since the beginning, we have always known that we were going to have to fight.

But I didn't anticipate, she didn't anticipate that extra s**t. f*****g, wasn't the main issue.

It was everything else. I studied her, she studied me. I know some of her deepest secrets and she knows some of mine. I know her body like my own, so did she.

I knew what she hated, I knew why. I know when her period is, exactly what brand of pads she uses.

I know she's hates tampons, because she gave me a lengthy and disgusting  explanation, that I half understood, because half of it was in Italian.

We've had arguments—not shoot outs, not about war or the Mob— no, she gets pissed when I leave the toilet seat up, and she blows it out of proportion.

She also insists I get the wrong toothpaste on purpose. The f**k?

Shit, I was rarely at my own house, I spent of time there. Do you see how s**t gets tangled?

She's broken as f**k, I knew it, and I played on it, and she knew it, but went along for the ride.

Now we're at dead end and someone has to die.

Some one.

THERE'S A FRESH BLANKET OF SNOW on the ground, still pristine and white. Pure. Blood will be spilled unfortunately, and that  perfection will be marred. This is the end. It's sound dramatic as hell, I know, but honestly, it is.

One of us isn't going to leave here and there are no other options. Here why: if we walk away, or come to peace, everybody's uprising.

They're going want blood. They've lost loved ones, friends, family, children. Somebody's gotta lose.

So here we are, in a valley, on middle ground. It's nobody's territory. The soldiers are already there on both sides, but no one does anything, not until we get there.

When I get there, I feel her presence, but I don't see her. I scoff. Games, games, games, and more games.

Alright then. I'll play.

“Where is she?”

The soldiers don't say anything, they're basically mindless, pawns. They don't move until she moves them.

“I'm here, Vitya.”

Instantly I hate her all over again, as she walks toward me, her dark hair floating in the wind, her body bundled up in sweaters and coats.

You'd think it's more of a bullet prevention thing, she just hates the cold. f**k anything below 70 degrees is cold to her, I always told her to get that s**t checked.

I know she's thinking the same thing.

Atelophobia: it's a fear of never being good enough.

Atychiphobia: the fear of never being good enough.

The difference.

Atelophobia is the fear of imperfection.

Atychiphobia is the fear of failure.

Same result.

She's afraid to be flawed because she's never been good enough to her mother and she never felt good enough for her father.

I'm afraid to fail because my father is proud of me, and he was an excellent leader. My mother loves me, she wants me to be someone others can look up to.

See how life works?

She lacked love, I got it, and yet, we have the same issues.

Her eyes are on me, my eyes are on her, we're thinking the same thing. This is a to the death fight, nothing is off limits. Emotional, mental, physical as long as someone wins and blood is spilled they don't care.

She initiates, because it's the perfect thing to do. She snaps, one of my guys go down. I nod, three of hers go down. But they're pawns, so I'm still in the game.

She snaps again, bullets rain down. Sharp shooters, I knew she'd do it, so they're prepared for it.

They split, aim and take them out.

She glares at me, and I give a smile. That? That was a mistake. That wasn't perfect.

She snaps again, five of my guys go down, I give them free reign to fire at will.

Except her. My orders are that no one shoots her. No one but me.

I will kill her, or no one will.

It didn't have to end this way. But it will.