In the Godless City of Seattle, Washington there is no place for innocence or miracles. With war raging between the criminal organizations leading the city into chaos...the food chain is about to get rearranged.
Genevieve Belay is the clear example...
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Kostya's POV.
She has breathtaking eyes. The pain seems to add that murderous beauty that her eyes project.
She is just a girl. She was just a child.
I never run from who I am or what I've done in my twenty-seven years of life. I've committed the most unspeakable crimes at the short age of thirteen. I've killed innocent men to get to the big man on the throne, I've killed women just to get information out of them --and I don't doubt that she hasn't either. But I don't mess with innocent children. Any child dragged into this world is innocent until it isn't anymore.
I have never thought about putting my hands on a child. I am a despicable piece of shit that enjoys killing more than breathing but I have some remaining morals. I was raised by a woman after all.
Owen Kenneth beats every single fucker out there-- and we are a lot of sons of bitches in this world. He had her in his arms for eight months and I can't swear on my rotten life that it was only eight months he had her. I don't know, and apparently she doesn't either. Her time with the Breeders is a rough estimate. But it was enough to scar her for the years to come.
She grew up to be the only person no one can kill, just to become the only one to have the power to kill herself.
"I see him in plain daylight. He doesn't want to go back to only living in my nightmares."
I swear my dick is shrinking to immeasurable lengths as the seconds pass, and not even having her naked against me helps. This is starting to concern me.
But I do believe that she needs to get her mouth running. I don't want to be responsible for The Dagger losing her sanity which can led her to her death...like right now. Shit.
I didn't know much about the time Owen had her. Now, I know the obvious, but the details --fuck the details will definitely make me sick. Just looking at the initials engraved below her breast make me dizzy. The fucker must have done it with a needle or a fucking toothpick.
"When my father first started training me, he always explained that it's so I wouldn't be his weakness. Every time he pushed me too hard he pushed me even harder, so I'm not his or anyone else's burden."
Her voice is nothing but a mere whisper, a clear sign of exhaustion. The blood loss got to her faster than the hypothermia.
"He taught you well."
There's no doubt that Arno Belay taught her well. From all I've seen since we crossed paths, she's tough and hard like a rock. But rocks tremble when the ground shakes. Her ground is her sanity and she has no steady footing on it.
"He never taught me how to fight the nightmares, Kostya. They won...and I lost."
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"Is she alright?
I try hard not to roll my eyes at Triosky. Of course she isn't alright, and I'm not either. I'm way down my normal temperature and Genevieve is as unconscious as victims of PTSD come. But there's a more concerning fact that needs to be addressed before my head and everyone else's is handed to Arno on a silver platter.
