I once dared to wish for a better life for myself. Now I'm just a fragile toy in the wolf's hands, with only a name and a blank slate for memories. He said that I had earned the right to live, but I knew that he needed something from me: something that I do not remember, but which gives me the right to write down my wolf laws.
View MoreCasino "Queen of Spades" was one of the first in the city, which worked legally, and was rightfully considered its pearl.It was located in an old building in the center and, along with the gaming halls, included hotel rooms on the upper floors and a restaurant on the ground floor, at the entrance to which my father, the then owner of the city, was shot.Boris once invested a lot of money in updating the casino, while retaining the charm of that era and leaving even the name, probably thus perpetuating the moment of his coming to power.It is strange that Boris was from a rich and influential family, but he strove for power so much, and Grisha, who was probably found in cabbage with a clip instead of a rattle, did not strive for power even when it was brought to him on a silver platter.It was a bit of a revelation to me that Rosa visited the casino, but on the other hand it was her own business, thanks to which I had a powerful lead. However, Grisha probably also thought about someth
Summer twilight was gathering over the residence, and cigarette smoke ghostly spread in the scattered patches of light from the lanterns. In the vault, I found some documents, among which was my passport with the name Angelova.It was a strange logic to hide the documents along with the weapons, but I didn't find fault when I looked at the DNA test results sheet. Of course, there were no names on it, but it was not necessary to guess for a long time who the samples belonged to.Why did Boris drive his brother away? I thought the blood mattered to him. Or was the rejection of the brother due to the fact that he was a half-breed? To Boris, half-breeds were trash. Only I, my beloved wife, was an exception, and, probably, Grisha. And that was only because he was a very useful servant.I wonder if Boris's parents were still alive? Or did he also kill them, like my father, so that they would not get in the way while he was building his empire?How is my queen doing? - Grisha quietly slipped
The sun had long since turned away from the windows and balcony of my room, and I blinked sleepily, not orienting myself in time.There was a taste of rotten eggs in my mouth, and I was very thirsty. I reached out to a bottle of water that had come from somewhere on the bedside table and, sitting up, took a few sips.I felt rested, but my head was porridge. The pillowcase on the pillow was dirty with make-up that I hadn't washed off before going to bed, and the only clothes I had on were panties. This discovery was the turning point for my sleepy memory, and I tightened my grip on the bottle, preparing to throw it at whoever opened the door, but it was only Martha.- Good morning! How did you sleep? she asked cautiously, looking warily at the bottle in my hand.- Where is this monster? I squeezed out.- Grigory Georgievich washes a motorcycle, - Marta immediately answered, holding back a smile.There were too many rough words on my tongue, and I, taking pity on the girl's ears, kept s
In my life I have seen quite a few horrors: I saw how my brother was shot in cold blood; I saw how the doctor's throat was torn open with claws; I saw severed heads rolling on the floor with grimaces of pain, but what lay in the box could not be compared with them.- It's a doll! Astakhov reassured me. - Just a doll, Kira!I clung to him, shuddering from crying. A doll... A little boy's doll was lying in the ground, judging by the smell taken from the cemetery, and from that it smelled of death.When Astakhov was pulling me away, I caught the box and it fell to the floor. The earth crumbled, and the doll began to cry so loudly that I could not hold back the second painful scream.What kind of sick bastard did you have to be to do that?- What have become, bl * d! - lifting me in his arms, Astakhov shouted to his scumbags. - Bring the courier back! Fast!He carried me to my room and sat me on the bed. I was trembling. I still smelled the nauseating smell of the earth. A child's cry rum
I stood under a hot shower for a long time, washing away the smell of the wolf and the feeling that I had been dumped in the mud.I really considered the option with sex seriously. The old, proven method could (and would have turned out!) to be very effective with such a self-confident character as Mikhail, but apparently my inner chameleon went on vacation or hibernated, and I did not feel the slightest physical response to the caress of an attractive man.His every kiss, every touch disgusted me, and even the name of his son could not start the desired mode in me. I once considered myself a fallen woman, and I was for the most part, but, apparently, in my short redemption, I managed to rise a little, and at the last moment I backed up, using a trump card that, in fact, I wanted to save .Hearing about my father and that I was ready to meet him, the young lawyer quickly realized that he underestimated me and removed his ugly little hands, but even under water it still seemed to me th
Rosa served me lunch in the dining room, honoring a vase of strawberries with the most honorable place on the table. I placed my laptop out of sight and jabbed blindly at my plate with my fork, trying to focus on the news that was all about starting a recycling plant and opening jobs. Somewhere I even came across an interview with the deputy mayor, but I did not read through it. Everything was clear there anyway: it was worth taking something important from people, and from wolves, and half-breeds too, and then returning it, and they, consider, were in your pocket, overflowing with gratitude.It warmed me strangely that I now had power in my hands, and that with its help I had done a good deed by providing jobs, but I also could not help but notice that with such a gesture I exposed myself even more. Gratitude is gratitude, but even the simple inhabitants of the city's slums couldn't help but wonder who was now at the helm, not to mention the mayor and all his many hangers-on."What i
Astakhov left, leaving behind acrid smoke and a taste of bitterness in his mouth. Night fell imperceptibly, and the rain fell, ruthlessly filling the dimly lit room with the thoughts I had promised her when I returned here. And all of them, of course, were about Nikita.At some point, they became unbearable, like the smell of cigarettes left by the wolfhound, and I opened the balcony wide open, turned off the light in the hope of falling asleep, but it only got worse: the dream did not go at all, and every rustle from the street seemed to revive not only my thoughts about my son, but memories of those days that I spent at the residence with Boris, and indeed memories of my whole life.I saw faces, heard voices, smelled and touched, heard shots and moans, sweaty palms, and in them I alternately felt the weight of a gun.Closer to dawn, this torture began to come to an end, but there was another on the way, and the brighter it became, the more clearly I saw Boris. He stood by my bed and
To say that Rosa's words left me with an unpleasant aftertaste was an understatement. It was one thing to admit that I had made a mistake by returning to the city, and quite another to hear confirmation of this. I would have bitten my elbow, but it was already too late to bite even two.I had no reason not to believe her, but on the other hand, I just wanted to shout out "What the hell?!"As children, my brother and I often heard in our slums fairy tales about the great Valery Stanislavsky, which mother tearfully fed, telling in the evenings about how gentle father was, and how he would love us, and how he would take care of us, and other shit , unfamiliar with loneliness, fear and longing.Now, many years later, I was sitting in his house, but already in the chair of a wolf who organized his murder and took the place of the owner of the city, who ordered me to be beaten, raped and killed, and then fucked me in the same house, sang praises, gave jewelry , who made me his wife, and who
I closed the door behind him and, returning to the table, drank the bourbon in one gulp.It was difficult to put aside thoughts about my son, but I managed to focus on a conversation with a lawyer. Whether he realized that I was cut off from Boris's affairs or not was unimportant, as well as what he thought of me. Maybe it was even better that he took me for a fool, because something serious was usually not expected from fools.The main thing now was that he confirmed one of my worst guesses: six months ago, someone made sure that my signature miraculously appeared in the inheritance documents, and this same someone left some orders on my behalf to keep the business afloat.Question: who and for what purpose?Was it the one who sent a guest to my house? Maybe it was made to smoke me out? Forced to return to the city?It is unlikely that this was Boris's brother. If he looked at least a little like him, my signature would not be anywhere, but he clearly claimed something, since he inte
How much do you think a human life is worth?To Java I will say: not at all.Don't believe? Okay, I'll ask differently.How much is the life of a homeless person worth, whom you turn your back on, preferring to pretend that he does not exist?Well... She doesn't cost anything either. As is yours. As did my brother. As is mine. And I tell you this with complete certainty.But life is not the most valuable thing a person has. Our memories are much more valuable.They are what make us who we are. They are the fuel, the engine, and the wheels for the future, because the present is built on them. And I tell you this with full confidence.His heels buckled and wobbled dangerously with every step. I was tempted to take them off and go barefoot, at least just so as not to hear how disgustingly they knock on the asphalt, as if notifying about something, but when you plan a late visit to an ex-boyfriend, torn stockings and dirty feet are not what you want appear.The code at the entrance has no...
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