J͟͟͟͞͞͞e͟͟͟͞͞͞n͟͟͟͞͞͞n͟͟͟͞͞͞i͟͟͟͞͞͞e͟͟͟͞͞͞.
To many, I am a myth.
The 'Kiss of Death', a hired killer, revered by some of the greatest criminal organisations in the world. Trained by the bratva themselves, without conscience, without mercy.
The per...
It's been ten days since Jennie left and ten days of mercilessly killing Russian women and children. I'd say that the blood weighs heavy on me, but it doesn't.
Jicheol has begged me to stop. He doesn't have the stomach to make the hard decisions. He believes that this can be solved with words and tact. The simple fact is, battle lines must be drawn in blood.
With Rafael's help, I've managed to fuck up the bratva's drug and gun supplies. This will be a war of attrition. I will starve them out if I must. Without their drugs and guns, the bratva will soon be scrambling around, desperate for money.
It stands to reason that the life of one woman and one child is not worth complete anarchy.
What's left of the bratva here in New York are reaping my wrath and they're running, retreating to Russia because the Italian underboss has declared war.
Nicholai has no weaknesses, and Jennie is his obsession, so he'd never give her up. The only ones who can force Nicholai's hand are the rest of the bratva, so it's them that I now press.
I lift the glass of whisky to my lips, downing the burning liquid before I refill the glass.
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His outfit ^
It's two in the morning and I can't sleep. Instead, I sit at my desk staring at my laptop screen. At the tiny red dot on a blueprint. Jennie's tracker. It hasn't moved from the same room in Nicholai's base for the last nine days. Is he holding her prisoner? Or did they find it?
What if she's dead?
I clench my fist on the desk in front of me. No, she can't be.
I lift the glass to my lips again when my phone beeps. Frowning, I glance at the screen and see it flashing with a security warning. The fire exit door has been breached. A slow smile pulls at my lips because I know exactly what that means. Nicholai finally got my message.
There's no one in the apartment other than me. Yoongi was staying here, but I sent him back to the Hamptons because I couldn't take his bitching anymore. I have two guys on the lobby and two on the parking garage, but that's it. Jennie isn't here to protect anymore, and I want them to come.
Opening my desk, I take out the .45 Cal that I keep there, checking the clip before sliding it back with a resounding click. My .40 Cal is strapped to the waistband of my jeans. If that isn't enough, then I'm fucked anyway. I switch off the desk lamp, plunging the office into darkness. My eyes slowly adjust. The glow from the city allows me enough light to make my way to the door. I press my shoulder blades flush against the wall, just beside the door and I wait.
I hear nothing, but of course, if they're Elite, I wouldn't.
Eventually the door handle to the office slowly lowers. Adrenaline floods my system.
