82. You'll never have her.

Third Person POV.

A short weary laugh escaped Peter’s lips. He gazed up at Andrei, coughing blood. Already Peter’s face had swelled up, credit to Andrei’s blows and punches.

Just beneath the laugh escaping Peter’s lips was hatred. He hated Andrei. David. And whoever else was on his way to freedom.

Getting his life roped up in the mafia’s hands wasn’t what he bargained for, but Peter was willing to fight for his freedom.

He was but a slave to the mafia. Not even a ranking Byki. Just a slave. And he was tired of being that shitty thing.

At least, back when he was in New York he had a good job. A good girlfriend and he was on the verge of being a father to the child he wanted not a child that came by happenstance.

Only gambling ruined his life. Gambling brought him to the position he was in now. He wanted out. And the only means he could do that was to endure all the shits Andrei and David dished out.

But while doing that he’d re-strategize. These men needed him alive, Peter concluded,