The AmericansSarah“Stop the car!” I order the taxi driver as we arrive at a deserted path.He steps on the break abruptly, his hands shivering as I step out of the taxi. I try to search for some dollar notes for him but he speeds off in the shortest notice.I pocket the pistol and head north. A train station is somewhere close by. Jogging my way down there would take nothing less than thirty minutes.My phone rings in my pocket as I scan the area.It's an unknown caller.I take another quick glance of my surrounding. The distant sound of the taxi engine fades as I run along. They might have laid ambush on the main streets. This is the shortest and safest path to the train station.The phone rings again. I take a pause, leaning on the pole of a streetlight to catch my breath.I pick the call and wait for the caller to speak. “Do you want a reward or not? I expected to find you at home.”“Betty?” I question in surprise.“Yea. We have who we wanted. You deserve a reward.”“You caught
Sarah“You don’t remember me?” he asks, adjusting the strap of a brown leather bag hung around his shoulders.“I don’t,” I reply, looking out for an empty seat around. But he stops me and blocks my view.“You are as good as alone now. If you know what’s god for you, don’t try to play smart.”I see a weapon in his pocket as he pulls out something from his bag. “Do you know this person? Apologies, that’s not even a question. Where is he?”It is a picture of Shawn, and another face. I know this person is definitely someone from my past. Although it’s hard to tell if he’s from the enemy’s side.“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never seen these faces.”He claps his hands and begins to laugh deeply, drawing attention from otuer passengers.“Isn't she funny guys?” he turns to them and back to me. His grin condensing immediately into a frown. “Good joke, Maria Giovanni. Now answer the question.”He pulls in closer to me, his pistol now in his hands as he runs the muzzle over my
MarcoMy request didn’t stop them from putting me in the cell for the night. My first night ever in a cell. One of the prison guard approach the barred gate. “You have a guest.” He cuffs my wrists and leads me back to the interrogation room. It's most likely the lawyer I requested for. Taking my seat, I expect the man to turn around to face his new client at least. “You must be the laweyer,” I say, with raised eyebrows. “Way more than that, Marco,”He knows my name. He turns around and immediately it dawns on me. “what were you thinking? That you could just walk away and rat me out to cheap cops?”“That was my only way out.”He laughs, taking out a tobacco stick, puffing the smoke to my face. “You really don’t know who I am up until now, do you?” he snaps his fingher and few cops walk in, including the fat man that interrogated me the previous night. I sit in awe watching as they saluted him.Even the cops knows Big Tom. “I want him transferred to the Russian police. He’s our
MarcoEveryone had their specific positions at the large hall. I was assigned to stay with Big Tom all night like some cheap body guard. Andrea hovered around him most of the time. Other times I caught him talking to some guests at the large garden.We arrive at a decorated hall. It is a chapel and a priest stands far ahead in front of empty pews. A man in black suits and dark shades stands by his side.Is Andrey planning a wedding or an actual coronation? I shoot Andrea a suspicious glance but he doesn't catch it. “Could that be him?” Andre asks Big tom as we approach the tall man in white shiny robe. “I don’t expect him to be here himself,” Big tom replies, suddenly halting and turning to me, puffing his tobacco-filled mouth to my face, “How about you go get yourself a drink.”I meet Andrea’s gaze only for him to gesture my compulsory exit, like father did whenever he had a bloody task.“Why do I have to leave?” I question, my gaze still resting on Andrea, instead of Big Tom. “Ma
MarcoA duct tape binds tightly over Andrea's mouth, muffling his desperate pleas. His eyes are wide with fear and a warning, for me, or for us I can't tell but his gaze meet mine amidst the tense silence of the chapel. His veins bulge on his forehead, glistening with nervous sweat that streams down his face."I know that look," I think to myself, my heart pounding hard in my chest. "I should have been here sooner. Maybe I could have turned the tide, but now... now it might be too late. Our ship is sinking."My foot grip the gun tossed to me on the floor. I scan the faces around me, squatting to pick up the gun, its weight heavy under my trembling hands. My gaze fixes on the guard opposite, his own gun leveled at my forehead, ready to pull the trigger at the slightest provocation."What do I do with this?" I manage to choke out, my voice barely a whisper as I try to keep my nervousness in check. The room feels suffocatingly small, the air heavy with the scent of impending violence. "
Marco A continuous buzzing sound fills the air, pulling me from the hazy fog of unconsciousness. I tilt my head, blinking against the blinding brightness that surrounds a tall figure standing before me."Took you that long," he says, his voice cutting through the silence and wind like . And in an instant, I recognize the face. The mysterious devil who holds my fate in his hands.I try to lift my arm, to aim at him, but my bad leg protests, sending a jolt of pain through my body. I'm stuck, my ass glued to a metal chair, and my hands cuffed behind me.Two more men enter the small, empty room, their presence adding to the suffocating tension in the air."I figured we needed to make something clear," the devil speaks again, with his usual smooth and dangerous voice. "If our collaboration is to work, I need to be sure I can trust you. Especially after last night's... incident.""You've taken everything from me," I spit out with bitterness and anger. "What more could you possibly want?""T
MarcoThey pull up at the entrance of an old cemetery, the car coming to a halt as I feel this strange nervousness. Stepping out, I'm met by the guard, whose eyes haven’t pardoned a minute away from from me."Over there, pal. The party's almost over," he sneers, thrusting the jar of my brother's ashes into my hands.My gaze sweeps over the small group ahead. Not one familiar face and I can't help but ask, "Where's my sister?""What, you think we take orders from you now?" the man behind me retorts, delivering a sharp kick to my healing leg. I grit my teeth against the pain, limping forward. I’ve to cage my anger and come up with a plan to take down all these bitches one by one.Among them stands the familiar figure of the pope from the chapel. Two other men in dark coats stands adjacent to him with shaded glasses. I know their presence there is anything but for a good purpose."What's the point of a burial if my only family isn't here?" I question, turning back to the guards who brough
One year laterSarahA sharp, urgent knock startles me from the soothing rhythm of rocking Carlos to sleep in my arms. It had taken more than an hour of tender care to pacify his incessant cries, and I couldn't bear the thought of him waking up again. I lay him in his crib and answer the door, desperate to silence the noise that threatens to disturb his nap time."Who is it?" I called out, my voice a little above a whisper."You have a package, ma'am," the voice says from the other side.I hesitate, my mind racing. I hadn't ordered anything, and I rarely spoke with the neighbors since arriving here. A sense of unease settles over me as I cautiously open the door, revealing a delivery man with a pen and paper in hand."You need to sign here, ma'am," he says, his voice having no emotion."Who is it from?" I ask."Look, ma'am, I don't know. I'm just doing my job."I glance around, scanning the peaceful surroundings for any sign of danger. Satisfied, I sign the paper and carry the package