Kiss Of Death: A Dark Mafia Romance

8

“We’re not in Wonderland anymore, Alice.” – Charles Manson

I sit in the back seat next to Sasha, watching the outside world pass by my window. Nicholai is in the front and a man I’ve never met before drives the big SUV, winding down the snow covered drive, away from the compound. A blur of forest flashes past the window and I remember seeing that same row of snow capped trees when Nicholai brought me here. That memory feels as if it belongs to someone else, another girl from another time. That girl was vulnerable and scared. I’m still vulnerable, still scared, but of different things. I’ve always wanted to ask Nicholai about my sister but something always stops me. Call it instinct, but I don’t think he’d like it. I wonder how she is. I hope that she’s okay.

“This job…you are a protection detail.” Nicholai says without turning around. “I don’t expect trouble, but be vigilant and if they make a wrong move, shoot to kill.” He turns in his seat and taps a finger between the eyes driving the point home. He slams the clip into the bottom of a colt .45 and shoves it into a chest holster as he turns back around. “Stay close at all times in a marked formation.”

“Yes, sir.” Sasha responds.

“Yes, sir.” I say more quietly.

I have practiced, shot at more targets than I can possibly count, but this is different. These are people. I flash Sasha a nervous glance and he simply shakes his head slightly, gritting his jaw. Don’t ask questions, simply follow orders. We’re soldiers, and that’s what soldiers do.

We pull up in what looks like a disused factory of some sort. The man who was driving removes a large holdall from the trunk and then disappears. I take a gun from my holster and palm it, feeling the weight of the metal resting comfortably in my hand. Sasha’s eyes sweep over the darkened yard and Nicholai simply stands there, unwrapping a lollipop and putting it in his mouth.

“This way.” He starts walking towards one of the buildings and pauses in front of a side door, allowing Sasha to go in first. My heart is pounding too fast as I scan the shadows, waiting for someone to jump out.

A hand brushes my shoulder and I jump. “Calm, little dove. Remember your training.” Nicholai purrs.

“Clear.” Sasha shouts.

We go inside and walk up a set of iron steps that lead to a walkway that overlooks the factory floor below. It’s a good vantage point with a clear view of all the exits. Nicholai opens the door to a small office. There are papers littered everywhere, and the place looks as though it hasn’t been used in years. He flicks a switch and an emergency light casts a low glow throughout the room. He takes a seat behind the cheap looking desk and kicks his heels up, still sucking on his lolly.

“Sasha, stay outside. Una, come stand behind me.” I do as he says and move behind him.

We don’t have to wait long. “Three of them coming in the entrance.” Sasha says a few minutes later.

“They’re late.” Nicholai grumbles, pushing to his feet.

Sasha steps to the side of the door, allowing them in. They’re big and burly, all of them dark haired and dark eyed with tanned skin. They wear suits, giving the impression of businessmen, but they’re not. The way their eyes shift around the room, focusing on me and then Nicholai puts me on high alert. I can see the outline of their guns fastened against their chests and it has my fingers lingering over my own.

“Nicholai.” One of them says with an accent. He glances at me and smirks. “You bring children to fight your battles now?”

I can’t see Nicholai’s face, but I see the way the muscles in his back tense, though he seemingly ignores the comment. The conversation switches to Italian, and although I am learning the language, I’m nowhere near fluent. I think Nicholai says something about money. The guy doing the talking frowns and whatever he’s saying, he’s not happy. The other two remain tense and alert.

I catch Sasha’s eye briefly before glancing back at the guy on the left. He keeps staring at me and a twisted smirk pulls at his lips as he drags his eyes over my body. It makes my skin crawl, but I remain still. Suddenly Nicholai slams his palm down on the table, and it seems as though everyone has a gun in their hand in an instant. It seems Nicholai has quite the effect. I bring the .40 cal up, pointing it straight at the pervy one’s face. His gun is pointed at Nicholai.

“Careful now, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want to hurt yourself.” He says in broken English. My English is a lot better than my Italian.

Nicholai holds his hands out, trying to calm the situation. I can’t take my eye of the guy in front of me, but something happens on the other side of the room. I hear a cry of pain, the crunching of bone. It’s going south. I see the guys finger twitch over the trigger which is pointed at Nicholai and I react. I shoot. The bullet hits him between the eyes and his head snaps backwards before his body follows suit. My mouth falls open and I drag heavy lungfuls of air into my body. I killed him. Adrenaline floods my veins and my hand trembles around the gun. I killed him. Holstering the weapon, I push to my feet. The guy who was talking is hunched over the desk, a blade slammed through his hand, pinning him there. The other guy is on his knees in front of Sasha, and Sasha has a gun rammed against the back of his skull.

“You owe me fucking money!” Nicholia growls, in Russian this time, getting in the mans face. “And yet you add insult to injury by trying to kill me.” He’s still sucking on his lollipop. Leaning over the desk he presses down on the hilt of the knife. The man grits his teeth and bites back a pained groan. “Big mistake, my friend.” He shakes his head and then nods at Sasha. The gun shot seems deafening, and I watch as the man that was on his knees falls forward, a hole blown in the back of his skull. “I don’t like traitors.” Nicholai says calmly before he yanks the blade out of the mans hand and slashes it across his throat. A warm spray hits me in the face and chest and the man falls forward, choking and gasping on the desk as blood pours from his neck. It spreads over the wood beneath him until it’s running over the side, pitter-pattering on the carpet in a steady flow. This is what we’re trained for. Death and destruction.

Nicholai pulls into the base, and the car sits idling outside the building. Sasha gets out and I open the door.

“Little Dove?” I pause and he turns in his seat, smiling at me. “I am so very proud of you. You are ready for the next stage in your training.” I frown but again, say nothing. “You will be magnificent. Your name will be feared, the whisper of death on the wind.” He breathes, a look of awe crossing his features. Something uncomfortable winds around my chest, but I swallow it down. “It will be hard, but you must endure. You must survive. Be strong, little dove. Take the gift I am offering you.”

“I will.” I say quietly before getting out of the car.

An escort takes us back to the training wing.

My mind is flashing like a faulty film reel, only it’s the same image, over and over again. My bullet. That man’s face. No amount of videos can prepare you for that. The dorm is empty when we get back. Sasha wordlessly drops his kit and heads for the showers. I just… I need a minute. There’s a two-foot wide gap between my bed and the wall. I wedge myself into the corner, and pull my knees up to my chest. I stare at backs of my hands, resting against my thighs. They are literally covered in blood, tiny splatters dotting my skin in a fine mist. I thought I was ready, but death, the reality is a far cry from the ideal. I imagined that I would simply pull the trigger and it would be no different to firing at one of those human shaped metal targets. I don’t know what I expected to feel. I guess I never thought about it. In the heat of the moment, when faced with the possibility that he might kill Nicholai I simply reacted. There was no thought or reason to it. It’s the exact second after you’ve pulled the trigger that your mind starts to over analyse. Nothing could prepare me for the blood, for the light leaving his eyes, the deafening bang of the gun signalling the end of his existence. There was something brutally humbling about it, the reminder of how fragile human life really is. It was horrifying, but more worrying, there was a strange thrill in taking his life. I’ve never felt more powerful. I’ve never felt stronger. What would Anna think of me now? Would she see me as strong, or would she see me as a monster? In the space of eighteen months I’ve completely changed. The life I had was no walk in the park. Starvation and abuse were daily factors that I thought so awful at the time. It was the childish notion of a girl whose life was a battle of bad and good. This life is a battle of bad and worse. There is no room for good, only survival. Only strength. Only what must be done. In my world, humanity itself is a weakness, and right now I feel as though I’m barely holding onto mine. It’s like I took a run and jump off a cliff, willing to become this killer, only I changed my mind halfway and now I’m clinging to a small ledge, clinging to the basest form of what makes us fundamentally human. Why though? What has humanity ever done for me? Why do I feel so guilty?

“Una.” I peer up at the sound of Alex’s voice. He’s standing on the other side of the bunk, his arms braced against the frame as he focuses on me. I can’t even look at him. Alex, regardless of the brutality he’s seen still manages to be good. He smiles when he shouldn’t be able to, laughs when anyone else would cry. Maybe he’s broken too. Maybe he’s too uncaring to be bothered by the things that should affect us. Or maybe he just manages to maintain his humanity while being here. Maybe he’s just stronger than the rest of us. He moves around the bed and comes to a stop in front of me. I watch as he drops to his haunches and those deep brown eyes move over my face.

“You look like something out of a horror movie, titch.” I slowly bring my eyes to his, waiting for some kind of disgust or judgement. It never comes.

“I killed a guy.”

He sighs and props his back against the wall, stretching his legs out beneath the bed. He places his hand on my knee and his thumb strokes rhythmic circles against the material of my cargo pants. “That’s kind of the point of being an assassin.” I nod. He’s right. Of course, this is ridiculous. “You’re allowed to care though. It doesn’t make you weak.”

I look at him and I’m worried he sees me for what I am, what I’m becoming. Alex is too good for this place. He still see’s me as the innocent, broken girl who walked in here, but she’s long gone and I wonder if he knows that? When he opens his arms, I go to him, wrapping myself in him. I bask in his warmth and inhale his familiar comforting scent. The blood and the death slowly ebb away until I can’t feel them any more. He presses his lips to my forehead, lingering against my skin for long seconds, despite my blood covered state. For a few moments I bury myself in him and allow him to take me somewhere else, somewhere that isn’t the cold, grey walls of the dorm. I pretend that we’re that boy and that girl, the ones we could have been. Normal. Not monsters and killers.