The first impulse was to respond with some kind of taunt, based on the fact that while Boris was counting on my memories, I was inviolable in his house, but as soon as I turned around and saw the wolf with a scar on his face with what a carnivorous look, the words got stuck in my throat .Knave waddled towards me. From the semblance of a smile, the scar on my face turned into a broken line, and if my heart were connected to the device, then, along with the frantic “beep-beep-beep”, it would give out just such a curve on the monitor.Maybe I was inviolable for everyone except Boris, but he was not here, just as Alyosha was not. I was one on one with a predator waiting for its prey to be especially vulnerable.I made the mistake of rushing to the door, and immediately found myself pressed back against the wall of the house.- Hush, baby! Quiet! - Knave cooed very quietly, squeezing his fingers on my throat. - No need to make noise! - He released his claws and ran them over the dress, ea
I lived in Boris's house for almost a month, and everything I could tell about his life fell into one short phrase: he went to work.In fact, everything was a little more complicated, as I was convinced by briefly looking at his diary and asking Alyosha.Boris was a machine. He got up around six in the morning and spent at least an hour in the gym, driving off excess wolf energy. Before eight, he had time to take a shower and have a hearty breakfast with something meaty. After that, he finished things in his office that he had not completed the day before and only went to work by ten.Lunch was delivered to him exactly at one o'clock in the afternoon from the same restaurant to the office, which was located in the business center of the city, and it naturally consisted of meat.He drank the purest, bottled water, he didn’t drink coffee at all, he couldn’t stand cigarettes, and from alcohol he preferred the high-grade Double Oak bourbon of the Jim Beam brand, produced in limited quanti
Boris left without even having dinner. The hope that he would not return, that both of them would not return warmed me, but in the depths of my soul I knew that it was not so easy to kill such scum as the Angels and he would still return home to me . And so it happened.Time dragged on slowly, barely past ten o'clock. I washed off my make-up, washed and changed. I didn’t feel like sleeping and I lazily flipped through the search engine, not knowing which of the links about diamonds to catch on.Why did Boris need them so much that he was not too lazy to come to my house, shoot my brother with his own hands and take me to him? What did he not have that he wanted to buy with them? Another city? The whole country?Hearing the sound of tires and a motorcycle, I looked out the window. There was no living place on the SUV that Boris usually drove, it was so riddled with bullet holes and I was already glad that my prayers were still heard, but, alas, it turned out not to be so.Boris got out
Two days after the bloody incident, Boris returned home like a pin at half past six. The news channels only trumpeted about gang warfare, noted with annoyance about the unknown number of corpses, and considered the possible reasons for such impudent behavior from the most fantastic angles.Of course, they were all far from the truth, as, unfortunately, I was far from the truth. I did not dare to ask Boris directly, avoiding him altogether, and Alyosha, due to his work as a nanny, was isolated from the environment and the affairs of the owner of the city.With less than a week left before the appointment, I decided to focus on the final preparations for it. Since Boris was not killed in those showdowns, then my plan did not disappear, and there was still a lot of work on it.A couple of times I thought about how far I was going to go, because if everything goes the way I planned, then sooner or later I will have to go to bed with Boris, let him enter me, touch, kiss and enter again, no
Outside the walls of the accursed house, my prison, everything felt different. Spring, with the brush of its last month, carefully painted the streets with bright and rich colors, affecting even people, and they flickered colorfully, while one of Boris's SUVs deftly cut through the city streets.Alyosha drove the car hard, and every now and then I jumped up and hurt Astakhov, who was sitting next to me in the back seat.When I found out that Boris sent him to me for protection, I found it funny, especially considering that at one time the wolfhound was ordered to kill me. However, without spending even five minutes with him in the car, which turned out to be surprisingly cramped for his bad manners and inclinations, I was ready to bite my elbow or even two just so as not to see him.Alyosha didn’t particularly like him either, and he kept throwing sidelong glances through the rear-view mirror, but he suddenly agreed with him that I couldn’t open the window.The SUV stopped at a jewelr
- Come on, Kira! Faster! And you're not stupid, thug! - he threatened Alyosha, at whom the gun was pointed. His car, taken from nowhere, blocked the exit from the cemetery.I threw away my cigarette for fear of burning the car and got out of it. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that Astakhov strangely disappeared from the cabin, which Egor did not notice along the way, too focused on aiming at Alyosha and at the same time watching me.- What do you allow yourself? I squeaked indignantly. - Are you completely out of your mind? I will complain...- Stop these games, Kira! shouted Yegor, frowning irritably. “I recognized your body…” he added breathlessly, grabbing the back of my head and pulling me towards him.The upper lip, the curve of which I once found seductive, has turned into one straight line. His eyes blazed with rage and pain. He risked a lot, including his life, to meet me.- Ka ... What body? .. - I squeaked, resting my hands on his chest and innocently flapping my eye
I doubted whether I should have gone to the reception that Boris was giving at the house. A dress was bought for him and I even refreshed my manicure, pedicure and haircut, repeated the epilation, but thinking about the fictional status in which I lived with Boris, I came to the conclusion that I already lit up too much. And in general, all this somehow suddenly seemed ridiculous and naive, and stupid, and meaningless, etc., etc.Boris himself showed no desire or lack thereof in connection with my presence among his high-ranking guests, and I did not know how to proceed.Hell, I again became confused in desires and thoughts, lost the appearance of purpose and doubted myself and everything in general. I wouldn't want my enemy to be in the same trap as I was.- Cursed diamonds! I cursed under my breath as I tossed my shoes around the dressing room.Today I took the liberty of wearing a burgundy midi dress. Silk, of course, with a gorgeous bow tied at the throat. In the store, I could no
The guests demanded attention and, leaving my scent on him, I left.The way he looked at me, how he accidentally touched me during those few minutes that we stood side by side, pleased me, but at the same time I felt dirty, which was facilitated by the looks of those present, as if I was lucky to be the one for whom they me. accepted.A she-wolf loomed among the guests. In a scarlet dress with her breasts thrown out and very modest in comparison with my jewelry, she looked terribly cheap and dull, and she spread the smell of envy and jealousy from herself, shooting malicious glances at me.- Red Stag - I ordered in the mini bar.I liked this bourbon more than the Double Oak that Boris drank.I went out to the patio and took a sip from my glass. The combination of tones of vanilla, oak, caramel and ripe cherries pleasantly refreshed the throat. Motorcyclists with machine guns roamed the territory, cutting through the translucent fog. The helmets, which they did not take off, were paint
Casino "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