Adrian

Adrian.

My heart pounds against my chest as I peek out of my hiding spot. With my gun in hand, I was ready to fire once I spot my target. Sweat drips from my brows as I listen to all the noises coming from the hall and I worry.

Igor had told me to get in and out as fast as possible, but the target hadn't shown up. He'd told me getting in would be the hardest part and I did just that. The target is what was keeping me longer than I am meant to be here.

"Where are you, you fucker?" I say as I look through the little opening in my hideout.

That's when I notice the guards seem to have doubled and I panic. Okay, okay, breathe in, I tell myself. It is just an extra set of pinheads, nothing I can't take care of, I say to myself. I am Adrian, AKA one-shot sniper, I never miss.

This was nothing.

But something in the back of my mind is telling me there is something off. I can't put my finger on it, but I hope everything falls in line. It would be a pain if it didn't.

"Viktor… Alexei…Mikhail," I list off names of some prominent people I see who work or partner with my target on occasion.

He's not here, I tell myself. Maybe Igor didn't get his information right and my target wasn't attending? I need to talk with Igor because his informants need to be questioned.

The wedding was progressing rapidly. The only woman present, the bride herself, looks like she would rather the ground open and swallow her than marry the sour patch next to her.

I shake my head as I get back into focus then survey the hall for what is probably the hundredth time in the last hour. Frustration builds within me and I nearly groan out loud. The hall's silence is palpable enough that if a pin should drop, it would be heard.

The only sound I hear is the annoying voice of the phony "priest". I had caught the idiot smoking weed out back before the ceremony officially began and I wonder where they pulled him out of.

"Some people have it good and others don't," I mutter. Just then, I hear a shuffle outside my hiding spot, and I think, for this to be a wedding, people sure do move around. I swear, some people have not sat down since the sad excuse for a ceremony began.

I ignore them and keep on the lookout. "Come on, come on." I breathe. "Where are you?"

Just then, I hear footsteps alarmingly close but before I can react, something hard hits me at the back of my head and I feel warm liquid trickle down my neck. Shit, shit, shit, I'm screwed.

I fall to the ground and before I lose consciousness, I hear a voice say,

"Well, look what we have here, a pretty boy."

……

Something drips from my forehead down to my face. It touches my lips and its iron, coppery taste hits my tongue. Blood. My head pounds badly. I can literally feel my heart pounding in my head as I struggle to open my eyes.

The room is dark, but not dark enough so I can see what's in it. Or what isn't? I can't tell if I'm in a cellar or basement but I do know the air smells vile.

My hands are tied in front of me and I notice a large amount of ropes around my body. They are wound around me tightly so much so that if I move the rope burns my skin.

I think back to how I found myself in this situation and the only thing I can remember is being discovered in my hiding spot before everything went black.

I twist around in the chair and groan when a voice calls through the dimly lit room.

"Don't bother trying to get out. Those ropes are reinforced, trust me, they won't budge." The voice says again and I strain my eyes to see his face. He's tall and broad-shouldered but other than that I can't make out anything else because he's standing far away. I ignore his warnings and continue to struggle.

A light switch flicks and the room is suddenly illuminated and I groan as the light burns my eyes. I recover quickly and that's when I see the room. They had brought me to a freaking dungeon.

The room is filthier than I thought and at one of the walls is a very elaborate torture display and I swallow.

"Well, who do we have here?" The voice says. The owner of the voice steps into the room and I see who had caused me all this trouble in the first place. Nikolai Rostov.

Nikolai walks further into the room with a sinister smile on his face. And can I say the photos I had seen of him didn't do him justice? The asshole looks better in person, that's for sure. He seems taller now that I can see him up close and he has tattoos littered all over his body.

His black hair is long, about shoulder length but it's up in a man bun so I'm not sure, he is also clean-shaven. I hate to admit it but he's handsome, with mesmerizing green eyes and a killer smile. Though right now, I wanted to wipe the annoying smile off his face.

He drags a chair from the corner of the room and places it approximately two feet away from me.

"Ah, much better. Now we can see eye to eye, no?" He says with that megawatt smile as he sits down.

"Now here's what we are going to do, pretty boy."

Nikolai says as he eyes me, and my jaw ticks.

"I'm sure there's no need to introduce myself but either way, I'll do so anyway. I'm Nikolai Rostov and you can call me just that. It's nice to meet you. The "one-shot sniper ", he mocks then stretches out his hand for a handshake.

"Oh, that's right. You can't shake me back, my bad." He Snickers and I growl, bastard.

“Igor should have done better, don't you think?” He says meaningfully and I stiffen. The bastard knows.