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It's no coincidence that he was at our house only a few days before it was transformed into a bloodbath.
It’s also not a coincidence that I’ve seen him here, in the Special Forces camp, of all places, now of all times. Civilians aren’t allowed inside training military institutions, so he must have some sort of link to the higher-ups. This is probably fate giving me a chance to avenge my family by so fittingly putting him in my path.
A red haze covers my eyes, and my muscles home in for action. I forget why I wandered here in the first place. My physical being slowly detaches from my mental being until only one thought beats beneath the surface of my skin.
Kill.
Shoot.
Revenge.
The man moves lethargically, walking with the speed of a turtle, probably due to his large build. A disapproving look covers his features, turning his face blue. There’s nothing of the nonchalant coldness he regarded Papa and my uncles with that day.
No aristocratic haughtiness that made me want to punch him in the face even back then.
I study my surroundings, forcing my bloodstream and breathing back to normal. In fact, they’re so low, I’m slipping into the category of camouflaging my existence. A technique I’ve learned since I joined the special ops.
Viktor, who’s standing by the door the man came out of, slips inside and conveniently disappears from view.
Since he was followed by an army of guards the other time, I’m sure they’re waiting for him outside. I only have this chance to get rid of the man.
My steps are inaudible, and my movements turn fluid as I slip forward in pursuit. Once I’m close enough to perceive the glistening sweat on the back of his neck, I lean down and retrieve the knife stashed in my boot.
The closer I get, the more I suppress my breathing, mentally preparing myself for the strike.
But the moment I’m about to stab him, a shadow appears from the opposite end of the hall.
In a second, I jump back behind a wall and glue my body to it.
The shadow is his guards. Not one, but three. Burly, tall, and with mean expressions written all over their features. If I’d killed him, I’d be in shreds about now.
My breathing heightens, coming out heavy and irregular. A tear clings to my lid as I stare at him being escorted out of reach.
There’s no worse frustration than lacking power.
If I were stronger, those three guards wouldn’t have fazed me, and I would’ve finally started getting revenge for my family.
But I’m not stronger and, therefore, will be stuck in this position of thinking ‘almost’ and ‘could’ve.’
“Here you are.”
I hide the knife in the belt of my pants and dab at my eyes as a body crashes into me from behind and wraps an arm around my shoulder.
Maksim has that usual joyful gleam on his face, but there’s the general wariness everyone brims with today. “Why are you here, Sasha?”
My mouth goes dry, but no answer comes out. Why the hell did I come here in the first place…?
Seeing that man turned my head entirely blank, and I forgot why I wandered here alone instead of being part of what the guys call a ‘mission ritual,’ which is basically meditating and worshipping their weapons.
Maksim stares down the hall, then narrows his eyes on me.
He has a boyish charm and an easygoing presence that I’ve gotten used to ever since he ‘took me under his wing.’
Now, however, he looks suspicious. “Have you come to see the captain?”
Oh. I remember now.
“Yeah, the captain! I wanted to ask him one more time to give me a chance.”
