50|Breathe

~Xavier~

Playing fire is a dangerous game I knew all about. I could get burned any moment, or worse, it could burn everything I’ve worked for.

“Tell me what I want to know, Anatoly,” I smirked, looking over the variety of random items laid above the metal table. From knives to screwdrivers, guns to hammers, we have it all. Running my bloodied fingers over the scalpel, I grabbed it and faced the annoying Russian capo with a scowl. A cigarette stick trapped between my lips, I raised my choice of weapon, letting it shine under the fluorescent light. I wanted him to see it.

His eyes, bloodshot and wide, enlarged further as I took lazy steps towards him. Tied in a worn-out operation table, the straps that bound him to it left red blotches on his pale skin. One of his kneecaps already smashed; the sledge