47 || A Series Of Disastrous Events

103K 3.2K 9K
                                    

Adele - Skyfall

𝔚𝔚𝔚
Celina

Rage.

Violent and uncontrolled.

Endless and purposeful.

A catalyst for destruction.

Perhaps, my excuse for it is in hopes of a release for the rage I'm so chronically pained by. Or maybe, it's in an attempt to gain back the power I so effortlessly handed him on a platter when I confessed something so... vulnerable. So weak.

Or perhaps, it's just fucking payback.

Either way, I don't give him the chance to follow after me when I leave them in the underground tunnels.

Fuck him.

Fuck Adrik Kozlov and his lies. His games. His fucking schemes.

I'm trembling with so much pent up anger that by the time I make it back up to the doc, past the closed gate and to my car - his Urus, I barely register anything.

The engine roaring, the street blurring and every fucking car driving a snails pace on the freeway. It's not long before my rage brings blaring sirens and flashing lights.

I settle more of my weight onto my foot atop the pedal, until I decide to slow, and willingly pull over.

The cop pull's over behind me, and I wait for him to run my plates in his shitty little system. The car wasn't registered in my name, which made what I had in mind all the more deserving.

I contemplate what he'll do next when he realizes who the car belongs to, but in the en, I leave it up to fate.

Only every single cop in this city was corrupt and all fate decided was whom they were bought out by.

Majority belonged to the Italians, some to Rosso. Now, with the rise of the Russians, I knew there was a big possibility he was on Adrik's payroll.

I'm proved wrong when the man doesn't seem to flinch at the name, going so far as to get out of the car and make it to my side, pounding harshly on my window.

I debate speeding off but think better of it, for now.

I wanted to play.

Normally, I'd be smiling as I roll the window down and face him because I enjoyed this shit. But the dull ache in my chest craves pure violence. The cruelest kind.

I grab my disregarded fountain drink and take a long sip, barely looking over at him. "You have three seconds to tell me why you're wasting my time, officer." Fragile men didn't like being undermined by women. And those in positions of power threw tantrums because they could. 

"Aside from speeding with these illegally tinted windows? You can start by cutting the attitude," Teeth clash, breathing intensifies and the tantrum begins with his hand moving to his gun. "You do not want me to escalate things, sweetheart."

"Please do, bitch boy." And because I have a death wish, I take the half empty fountain drink in my hand and throw it at his head.

𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 |𝟏𝟖+Where stories live. Discover now