08||~Addrik.

08||~Addrik. 

~~~~

I can't do it. 

That is the first thought that come to mind when my hand closes around her tiny neck. It should have been easy, just one snap and she would go still in my hand. 

Yet, my hand is trembling. 

Seeing her so small, so breakable, with her pupils dilated with unconcealed fear, it becomes as clear as day that I won't do it. The realization infuriates me as much as it tortures me. 

She shouldn't be alive. 

I should have snapped her neck the moment I found her in my house, infact, I shouldn't have even bothered with this marriage. 

But when her ublyudok of a father showed me the picture of his daughter for this trade and those amber eyes I had dreamed of for twenty four months stared back at me through the dead paper, I couldn't resist it. 

Now, here I am, staring back at my Babochka. 

Why did she do it? Why betray me? 

I don't understand, and as much as I wish to know why, I can't bring myself to demand answers from her. 

She wasn't even meant to know who I was when we met. It doesn't make any sense.

My hand eases around her neck, giving her the air she needs. Her amber eyes watches me with fear, an emotion that would have sent a flush of adrenaline through me. 

Yet, seeing it in her eyes only dampens my mood. "I won't kill you." The words comes out harsh, she flinches, wobbling on her feet. "But if you say a word about what you know." I take a threatening step forward, glaring down at her. "You will die. Slowly, painfully. I won't show mercy." 

I don't wait to see her response before walking out. Jaw taunt, nose flaring. 

Why did I even do that? I was soft on her, too soft. If it had been anyone else, I wouldn't have shown so much mercy. 

The door closes with a loud thud behind me. 

I have done my part to keep her safe, so long my secret isn't heard by a second ear, she lives. If not... The thought hurts, but it is what I have to do. 

What I have always done since I took over from my ublyudok of a father. Salty air burns my nose as I make my way to the room my men are, waiting for my instructions. Now that Ember is here, I can focus on other things without distractions. 

A sharp ring yanks me out of my thoughts. Mama. I debate not picking, but Mama has always been insistent.

With a swipe, her soft voice comes through. "I heard you have a wife." She doesn't hide the disapproval in her voice. 

A tiny, barely noticable groan forces it way out of my chest. I don't like the way she speaks of my Babochka like she is some poison at her side. "Yes. It is what you always wanted, is it not?" 

"I wanted you to marry Yuliya, not some... Italian... (Whatever insult works)" 

"My wife is not to be disrespected." My voice holds a warning. Yuliya, meek, sweet, everything my mother wants in a daughter in-law. Only i know she is not as she makes herself to be. The bitch was sent by her (insult) of a father to find out my secrets.

And unlike I am doing for Ember, I would gladly snap that (insults) neck. 

Silence fills the other line, I can imagine her frowning. I never speak to her that way. "Fine, since you think so much of her, bring her home. I want to meet this wife of yours." She spits. Then ends the call.

No question about my well-being. 

I should be used to it. A man like me deserves no love. Yet, sometimes. I catch myself wanting it, yearning for it.

Perhaps that is why Ember still lives.

She had only spent a month by my side, yet it was enough to leave me yearning for two years. Two fucking years without her by my side.

The phone cracks beneath the weight of my hand.

I don't trust her, I don't care for her. I know that.

Even the sight of her sends my skin shimmering with so much rage that I would spend the next hour expelling. Yet, the thought of loosing her, of never seeing her again after being apart for so long.

It does something horrible to my chest.

My lungs slowly eases. An attempt to ease the tension in my jaw. "Boss." Misha is the first to rise when I walk in, then Temur and Miram. 

"Has the boy been caught?" I demand. 

"Yes, boss. We got information about Mikhail's next action. He is targeting our ships in poland." 

Those ships contains important weapons. If ruined, the setback will be huge, my clients trust will becomes almost non-existent. The fool is bent in testing my patience. If this continues, I might be forced to haunt down this half-brother of mine. 

A hand pressed to my temple, i force down the pain piercing my head me. "Since he refuses to learn. Put the cops on his tail. Turn the Bravata against him." That should keep his hand full until I am ready to deals with the fucker.

"Yes, boss." The three men responds in unison. 

We continue discussing our next shipment. After Father's death, I stopped the shipment of drugs and women, my focus is on weapons. Guns, bombs. The mafia cannot do without my shipment, and Mikhail knows it. 

I should have gotten rid of him a long time ago, unfortunately, I am bound by grandfather's rule. Family is to be protected not hurt. 

After making sure everything is perfected, I return to my room. Well, the room I share with my new wife. 

She is fast asleep on the cold marble floor when I walk in, her small body curled into it self like a kitten. Her skin isn't as bright as it once used to, and the once bright and naive eyes I once couldn't take my eyes off now holds so much sorrow that it tugs at my heart. 

 A frown settles itself on my brows. 

What did she go through that turned her into this? 

The woman I knew, the woman who had proclaimed herself the Golden Butterfly is now reduced to this. Maybe it's why I can't stand be around her. The sadness hidden beneath her defiance is almost to depressing. 

I tuck a strand of her hair away, not missing the way her body shakes at the touch."No..." She cries in her sleep, her hand reaching for her belly. "Please, no... No." 

As if under a spell, I reach for her and pull her into my arms, then I place her on the bed and lay behind her, nose buried in the crook of her neck. She smells sweet, like spring breeze. She always reminds me of home. 

"No..." Her cries, turns into a whimper as she curls into my arms. 

Finally, after hours of petting her, she quietens, her s

oft breath caressing my neck..

"Who did this, to you, Babochka?"  I whisper into the night.

~P-Lia~