Lamps are knocked over, sofa cushions are strewn about and torn-up clothes are scattered about like the debris left behind after a tornado. Silas steps in front of me, his expression now looking like an attack dog seeking a target. He places the groceries down, walks over and picks up a few tattered pieces of clothing to examine them. “These are all mine,” he remarks. I look at him in surprise. I begin to wander around, checking every place in my apartment where I keep a weapon stashed, to find them all untouched. Silas follows the trail of tattered clothes to his room while I make my way to mine, a sinking feeling settling in my stomach. As I walk to my bedroom, I notice the whiteboard where I had organised all our research on Sathariel, has been knocked over with the papers tossed around without a care. I enter my room and immediately feel bile travelling up my throat. My bedroom looks even worse than the rest of my apartment. My bedsheets have been torn to shreds, my clothes thro
“Hold your fire!” I order them, each one glancing between me and the fight behind me, confused as to how to proceed. My father rises to his feet, but I can’t bring myself to look at him. The shame I’m now feeling won’t allow me to. “ENOUGH!” my father bellows. “Tell them!” Silas snarls as I hear the sound of a fist meeting flesh. “Tell them what you did, you sick perverted fuck!” I glance up just as my father signals for his men to intervene. They put their guns away, pull Silas off Castor and help Castor to his feet, but he's quick to shake them off. He glares daggers at Silas, spitting a wad of blood at Silas’s feet. The amount of contempt and disgust in the action has me now wanting to go and throw in a few punches myself. “Someone better tell me what the fuck is going on right this minute,” my father orders, his posture tall and imposing, his voice full of authority and his eyes burning with anger and curiosity. “This is the son of a bitch who shot Dasha in Russia,” Castor sp
“How did this happen, Dasha? I’m not a fool to see you as some innocent angel who could do no wrong. You are mine and your mother’s daughter after all, but this, I can’t wrap my head around,” he says, sombrely shaking his head. I walk over and pull out the chair beside him, taking my seat as I take his hand in mine. “Father I’m so, so sorry to have disappointed you. It was wrong and I was selfish, I never should have pursued him. I wish to God I could take it back. I’ve caused such a mess and I have no one to blame but myself,” I say, looking down shamefully. Gently he squeezes my hand and reaches out to lift my chin, his eyes looking at me with calm fatherly warmth, offering me a safe harbour from the emotions causing turmoil inside me. “When did this start?” he asks. I take in a calm breath and centre myself. “Two years ago. It was after one of the big mafia gatherings. There was drinking and flirting, and…I made my move,” I admit with unease. “And there was never anything befor
A few days have passed since Castor’s excommunication. Silas continues to give me my space, which is for the best. The few times we have spoken, my responses have been curt and laced with hostility. I can’t help it. I’m not upset that Silas wanted to harm someone he viewed as a threat to me – even if I didn’t know it myself – it’s just the way he went about it that I can’t get over. Castor violated my trust and my home, but Silas violated my confidence and my privacy. He told my fucking father about a guy I’d been fucking for two years. How would he like it if I dropped by his parents house to talk about his sexual past? Based on what he’s told me about his mother, she sounds like a lovely woman, so I imagine it’s not something she’d enjoy hearing. Can’t be sure about his father. What really grinds my gears is that I’m left processing a lot of information, and if the circumstances were different, I’d want to turn to Silas. I don’t want to turn to my parents because I can’t handle th
The moment is interrupted when we both hear a firm knock at the door. Silas is on his feet in an instant, his body rigid and alert leading me to roll my eyes at his attack dog stance. “If someone came all this way to kill me or us, I doubt they’d bother knocking on the door.” I walk over, look through the peephole and sigh when I see the calm face of my mother waiting patiently on the other side. This is likely to go about as well as a seal sunbathing on a block of ice with a hungry orca approaching. I unlock the door, brace myself and open it, gracing my mother with a warm smile. “Ciao, Mamma,” I greet her. "Ciao, Stellina,” she replies, stepping into the apartment and kissing my cheek. I close the door behind her as I observe her assessing the state of my place, her brows furrowing in consternation. While it may be cleaned up, it still looks like the aftermath of a hurricane. As she scans the room, her eyes fall on Silas, creasing at the corners in that familiar way they do whe
“Sathariel? Are you sure?” “So, you have heard of him,” Silas says with interest as he comes to stand beside me. Oh, so now he’s Team Dasha. Kiss ass. “Of course, I have. We competed in The Tournament together a couple of times. He won each time. He was the one who set you two up?” Shock and confusion are clear in her voice. We nod in unison. “Set us and many others up as well. We are just fortunate to still be breathing. What can you tell us about him? Maybe you can help us build a composite sketch of him, so we know what he looks like,” I say hopefully, but my hopes are dashed when Mother shakes her head. “I wish I could. But I never saw his face,” she says regrettably. “How is that possible?” Silas says dubiously, folding his arms over his chest. “You can direct that tone elsewhere. Unlike the other competitors, Sathariel never showed his face. I know it’s customary during the meet and greet, and moments between rounds where all competitors are confined together, but he refus
My body slips into a state of pure bliss as Silas’ fingers lightly travel up and down my bare back, his heart still racing beneath my ear as I lay against his chest drawing senseless patterns on his pectorals, leaving little goosebumps in their wake. “I’ve never had sex in my bed,” I spontaneously blurt out. Silas shifts to get a better look at me, surprise filling his features. “Never?” “This just always felt like my private space away from everything. I never wanted to share it with anyone.” “No one at all?” he asks suggestively. I roll my eyes. “If that was your not-so-subtle way of asking if Castor has been in my bed, the answer is no.” “Does this mean you trust me again?” “That would imply I trusted you at all,” I say lazily. “I suppose that’s fair,” he concedes, surprisingly satisfied by my response. His fingers resume moving up and down my spine, his touch feeling no lighter than a feather. It still astounds me that such deadly hands can be so gentle. “Do you trust me
I lower the mask from my face, breathing in – somewhat – fresh air as I lift my goggles onto my head. Carefully I pick up one of the capsules from the tray in front of me, holding it up, admiring it with the pride and joy a mother would have for their child. Over a year of failure after failure has led to this moment, and I couldn’t be more thrilled. One of the things I love about chemistry is that it teaches you how much good can come from failure. Failure isn’t the absence of success, but merely a stepping stone on the path to it. Through my many failed experiments I discovered so many new ways to mix and bind proteins that have now become useful with many of my other poisons. I learned even more about the plants I was working with on a molecular level, and while week after week things may not have gone my way, I never gave up and I’m glad I didn’t because if I had I wouldn’t be holding the future of science between my fingers now. I place the capsule down, remove my gloves and th
I tuck my sunglasses into my shirt as I stare at the modest, Brâncovanian style castle before me, its terracotta-coloured stone almost glowing in the light of the afternoon sun. The bees are buzzing as they fly from flower to flower in this charming garden that reminds me of something pulled out of Alice in Wonderland. I expect a deck of cards to pop out with cans of paint to paint the roses red.“What do you think?” asks Silas, coming to stand beside me.I look towards him, his face calm and serene as he looks upon his family home. Home being the keyword. The size and status of this stone structure means nothing compared to the memories he has made inside its walls. This is his home, and I can tell how happy he is to be back.I smile, taking his hand in mine. “It’s not at all what I was expecting, but it’s absolutely beautiful.”“I was hoping you’d like it,” he says, a giddy ere to his voice. He almost looks child-like in this moment, and although it’s a side to him I never even thoug
Topaz eyes watch me with hesitation as Athena and I circle each other slowly, the plastic mat beneath our feet crunching under each slow step we take. I twist my hands around my staff, tightening my grip as I assess Athena’s poor hand positioning.Quickly I strike to the right, and although her body language is tense with apprehension, she successfully blocks my strike, the sound of our two weapons colliding resounding around the room. Without pausing I strike to the left, but she quickly manages to block me again. She has better reflexes than she thinks, but she doubts herself. She’s so focused on anticipating pain and being overpowered that it’s keeping her on the defensive.I hold both ends of the staff and thrust forward, aiming for her torso. She scrunches her eyes tight, pushing her staff out to block me, and though she’s successful her relying on luck to get her through is starting to aggravate me. I shift my hands, grasping the centre of the staff as I swing it down towards he
Sathariel stares at me, skin sickly grey and dripping with sweat, his eyes wide with fury and his body shaking as he leans on the table. “Kill her!” he snarls, deadly intent shining in his eyes. With a serene smile on my face, I tap my finger on the table, then clench it into a fist. A moment later one of Sathariel’s men drops to the floor, the pristine white furniture now redecorated with his brain matter, the other guards looking at his corpse in surprise as he lays on the floor, blood spilling from a bullet-size hole in his forehead. I’m sure the back of his head looks even worse. “Even think of pointing those guns at me and you’ll be joining your friend before you can even lift your arms,” I warn, glancing over at Sathariel’s men. “You might be good, but my guy is better.” They look from Sathariel to me then to the window and after a moment’s pause, they take a step back, lowering their weapons. “Are you crazy? Do your jobs and fucking kill her!” Castor screams, but no one pa
FLASHBACK 3 DAYS AGO “Follow through, and the deal stays. Reneg… and you both die,” Sathariel warns as he gets up and steps back. I roll onto my front, slowly propping myself up on my hand and knees, groaning as I clutch my chest, discreetly untucking my locket from under my shirt and using my hair to shield myself. I quickly open the locket and let the capsule fall into my hand. I take a breath, coughing to mask the sound of my clasping the locket shut as I slowly rise to my feet, swaying a little as the ache in my skull makes my head spin. I slip the capsule between two fingers as I finally lock eyes with Silas, who hasn’t said a word. His eyes are frozen, watching my every step as I slowly stalk towards him. “I bet you regret telling me you trust me now, huh,” I say smugly, earning barely a glimmer of a reaction from him as I try to convey a silent message to him. He said he trusted me with his life, I just hope I don’t let him down. I haven’t had a chance to test this out on a
He reaches up, squeezing my breast firmly as he licks and sucks at the top of my breasts when the sound of a throat clearing interrupts the moment. “What?!” he snaps, turning to glare at one of his men. “Forgive me, sir, but your guest is demanding to come up.” Sathariel takes a deep breath and looks up at me, as he fights against his hormones. “I have a gift for you.” “I can tell,” I smirk as I grind my pussy against his rock-hard cock. He groans, his eyes briefly rolling back before he opens them to look at me. “A different gift, one I think you’ll like even more.” With a curious look on my face, I get up off his lap and smooth out my dress, “This better be good.” He gets up, fixes his appearance, and comes to stand behind me, holding my hips as he presses his cock against my ass. “Trust me, you’ll enjoy this. After this we can celebrate,” he says, biting into my neck and thrusting his cock against my ass. I let out a soft moan as I reach back, cupping the back of his head.
I slowly step into a gorgeous two-story penthouse apartment with a surprisingly breathtaking view of the city skyline through wall-to-wall windows. The sun is almost entirely set, giving the white furnishing a stunning, electric purple and pink glow. As I go to take another step, I’m held in place by my pervy escort. He spreads my arms wide, kicking my legs apart as he begins to pat me down. Overly thorough if you ask me. I glare back at him as his hands cup my breasts. “One needs to be wearing a bra to hide something in it, Einstein.” Fucker couldn’t have done this before we got on the plane? Once satisfied that he’s violated me enough, the chauffeur disappears behind the elevator doors as I step further into the luxurious penthouse only to see a table for two set up just past the living space. I register the popping of a cork as I look towards the open kitchen, only to see Sathariel pouring two glasses of champagne. “I take it your journey here was comfortable,” he greets warmly
Exiting my apartment I’m greeted by a tall chauffeur standing by a luxurious town car. His clothes are immaculate and his demeanour I would describe as friendly, but unassuming. As soon as he sees me, he opens the door to the backseat and holds it open for me. “Miss Aconite, I have been instructed to be your escort for the evening,” he says with a Peruvian accent, tipping his hat politely. “The entire evening?” I query as I walk to the car, tucking my clutch under my arm. “Yes, ma’am. I am to drive you to the airstrip where a jet will fly you to Germany. From there, I will drive you to where you will join Mr Guardian in Berlin for dinner this evening.” Mr Guardian. My mother will love that she was right in picking up on a third alias, but I’m still not sure if Lamar Guardian is Sathariel’s real name, or just another alias in a long line of aliases. While every assassin in our world is made infamous by their work and known by their codenames, Sathariel is a wholly different entity.
The sound of dripping water stirs my senses as I feel myself coming to. My body feels cold, a fact only intensified by an unpleasant draft almost making my teeth chatter. I struggle to open my eyes, my surroundings appearing dark and blurry. I try to move only to groan in pain when I feel my movements restricted. It’s only by the second attempt to move my arms and legs that I realise I’ve been fucking hogtied. My head is throbbing along with a growing pressure in my skull that is making me feel nauseous. I’m pretty certain I have a concussion. I try to think about how I came to be here, but it’s all a blur. As I lay on this cold, dirty – what feels like concrete – floor, I try to get my eyes to focus. Eventually, they seem to adjust, and I can now see Silas, unconscious and hogtied just a few yards away. That’s when the fog seems to lift from my brain, and I remember the men who broke into my apartment. I’ve definitely seen Silas look worse, but he doesn’t look great. His lip is bust
I lower the mask from my face, breathing in – somewhat – fresh air as I lift my goggles onto my head. Carefully I pick up one of the capsules from the tray in front of me, holding it up, admiring it with the pride and joy a mother would have for their child. Over a year of failure after failure has led to this moment, and I couldn’t be more thrilled. One of the things I love about chemistry is that it teaches you how much good can come from failure. Failure isn’t the absence of success, but merely a stepping stone on the path to it. Through my many failed experiments I discovered so many new ways to mix and bind proteins that have now become useful with many of my other poisons. I learned even more about the plants I was working with on a molecular level, and while week after week things may not have gone my way, I never gave up and I’m glad I didn’t because if I had I wouldn’t be holding the future of science between my fingers now. I place the capsule down, remove my gloves and th