Chapter Six

NATASHA

"Bastard," I grumbled, tossing the phone on my ratty mattress and trying to fish out whatever clothes were manageable from the tiny heap of clothes I had.

It wasn't that I couldn't afford more clothes, or better ones. Alisa had worried for two years, asking me why I didn't move somewhere more comfortable, or get better clothes or at least refurbish the ratty apartment I lived in.

I told her I didn't mind it and I wasn't lying. I really didn't. In the mafia, I was trained to live on less. For two whole years, I wore the same pair of clothes. Black jeans, torn and ragged with age and a black top. I performed all my assignments in them. No matter how much I washed them, I could always smell the heavy stench of blood.

It lived around me, surrounded me like a halo. A constant reminder of who I was and the work I had done. The work I did.

The work I was about to do.

I fished out a pair of faded jeans that looked the most presentable and shrugged off my dress. Grabbing a pair of scissors, I hacked the dress into two. It was Alisa's final gift to me.

I couldn't go into the field bearing sentiments.

My sister was right. From today onwards, I wasn't her sister anymore. I would do anything to protect her. But if I died in the course of this mission, then I would prefer she never hears about it. She would get what she wanted after all.

She would never hear from me again.

Tears ran down my cheeks as I hacked the upper part of the dress, carving out a top for myself. I couldn't wear any of the ones I had. They either had holes in them or they looked like something an homeless body would wear.

Sure my apartment was dingy, but I wasn't homeless. Or so I would like to think.

I shoved on my newly cut off top and stood, looking around my apartment. It had been a home for me for two years. Now, I wasn't certain I would ever see it again.

Alisa had asked why I chose to live like a pauper when I very well could live anywhere else and do any sort of job.

But how could I dare to live better when the families of those I had murdered lived in hell? The people I had killed weren't saints, but they weren't exactly cruel people either. Even if they were, killing them was not something to gloat about. It was never something to be happy about and that thought burned my bones and boiled my blood.

I did not deserve a life of luxury. I did not deserve to live a normal life, happy and excited about shit that didn't matter.

I am Vera Ivanov and I was beyond saving.

I had chosen to work at a nightclub because staying up at night meant I didn't have to sleep at night. And that was mighty fine with me. I wouldn't see the faces of those I had murdered in my dreams. And I would not hear the screams of their families as I snuffed out the life out of their loved ones. The Russian Mafia used me. They used and used until they didn't anymore.

I scoffed at the memory.

I could soothe myself, remind myself that the mafia made me do it. But Alisa was right. She always was. I had a choice. I could have allowed them to pawn us little girls off as sex slaves.

Or I could sell my soul to the devil to save my sister's. To give her the right to be free. The right to a normal life.

"I would do it all over again," I told myself, closing my eyes tight, trying to block out Alisa's hurtful words. "She's just a kid. She wouldn't understand. She doesn't understand."

I doubted she ever would.

At exactly thirty minutes after Luca's call, my door slammed open and I glared at the six foot hulk, dressed in a suit, that walked through the door.

"Have you ever heard of knocking?!" I hissed, feeling immensely irritated. That door had served me well for two years. The way they treated my home with utter disrespect was fucking annoying.

The hulk merely grunted something unintelligible and pointed outside.

"You're going to have to use your words, Mister," I told him, folding my arms.

The hulk looked at me, glanced outside as if trying to summon the words to his head then back at me.

"I'm here to pick you. Boss sent me. " He had a thick Italian accent. English must be quite hard for him. I didn't see how though.

If a Russian could learn to speak English without anyone hearing my accent, he could do the same as well.

"That wasn't so hard was it?" I jabbed and he shrugged simply and walked out.

Throwing one last look at my apartment, I followed him outside. A beautiful black sedan wss parked right by the road and I whistled.

"We're riding that? Luca must be loaded, yes?"

"Get in," Mr Hulk ordered and slid into the driver's seat.

Sourpuss. He was no fun at all. One would think he would at least sound excited. It was a black sedan! I had only seen it in advertisements and posters.

I slipped into the back seat, threw the driver a petty look when he frowned at me and held my nose up. If this was going to be my last car ride, I might as well enjoy it to the fullest.

If Luca was anything like my former employers. He was going to haul me off to Italy and send me to figure the rest on my own. I would have nothing else to rely on but myself.

The driver kick-started the car and drove down the streets. I expected him to make a turn for the airport but he drove right past it and headed for the outskirts of the city anyways.

"Where are we going?" I asked, frowning at the recent development. I hadn't expected that we wouldn't go to the airport. The hulk remained mute as if I hadn't asked a question and after asking several more, I figured he wouldn't tell me and simply relaxed in the back.

My eyes grew slightly heavy and I allowed myself to take a nap.

...Please... Don't... My wife, my kids... Please. PLEASE!

My eyes snapped open to see the car door open and the hulking man standing beside it, giving me a sad look. My face burned in shame and I wiped the wetness on my cheeks. I must have cried during the nightmare or something.

"If you want to keep your head on your neck,'' I hissed as I stepped out of the vehicle. "I'll advise you quit looking at me like that."

"Ah, Vera," Luca's annoying voice permeated the air. "I would advise that you refrain from threatening my man. I like him very much with his head on. "

I glanced up to see Luca walk down a stone pavement towards us and then looked past him to see the mansion behind him.

"Holy shit!" I gasped, looking around me.

How the hell had he managed to conceal a house so huge in the woods?!

It had to be a three storey building, built like a temple. Its arches and curves were smooth, painted brick orange and gleamed in the sun. I was in the compound that surrounded it and behind me were huge black gates that were as high as the towering walls around us.

Stone walkways led to the driveway where his driver parked. There were only two words to describe the entire place.

Amazing.

Yet terrifying.

And that was saying a lot, considering the fact that I didn't get spooked easily.

"Now that is a reaction I expected to see," Luca grinned as he stopped right before me. "I take it that you like my home?"

He looked every bit as annoying and pompous as he had a few days ago. I wanted to smack that foolish grin on his face but that would probably get my hands broken and Alisa's knife taken.

I couldn't risk the latter, so I managed a grunt and shook my head.

"It's absurd. The colors are sad and I'd say a touch of pink would make it better."

He pursed his lips, glanced back at his home and arched a brow. "You think so?"

"Well don't take my word for it,"

"Definitely," He grinned and extended hand. "Welcome to my humble abode. I don't expect it to be to your taste, but as long as it conforms to mine, I am good-"

"Boss?"

A woman's soft voice interrupted. We both looked behind him to see a black haired woman around my height and age, staring at him with sift gray eyes. And then those eyes shifted to me and sharpened into icy daggers.

"Who is she?"