Chapter 8

Maya's POV

I squinted against the afternoon sun hitting my face, shoving my hands into my hoodie pockets.

Finally.

No Zakhar.

No ridiculously huge house.

No getting lost in hallways that all looked exactly the same.

No getting stupidly drunk.

Just me, the city, and my burning desire for revenge.

I glanced down the street, taking in the passing cars and people going about their business like they didn't have a care in the world.

Must be nice.

I kept walking, taking a few turns until I finally reached the spot I had in mind.

Bingo.

I'd found my target.

He was sitting outside a small, worn-down building, leaning back in a plastic chair with his attention fixed on his phone. The street around him was quiet, with a few parked cars and faded storefronts nearby. He looked completely unaware that I'd been looking for him.

I stopped a few feet away, ducked around the corner, and took a good look at him.

Bald head, pot belly, thick facial hair.

Yep. That was definitely him.

I settled in and watched, completely unnoticed.

For hours, he barely looked up from his phone.

Every now and then, he'd glance around the street before going back to whatever he was doing.

It was getting dark, but I stayed put, keeping my eyes on him even as my legs started to ache.

Patience.

I had waited too long to find him, just to fuck it all up now.

Suddenly, he slipped his phone into his pocket and stood up.

He was finally moving. Thank God.

I waited a few seconds, stretching before following him, making sure I kept enough distance between us.

He walked at a steady pace, occasionally glancing around as he made his way down the street.

I made sure to keep my distance, occasionally ducking behind a car whenever he looked back.

Thankfully, he didn't notice me.

Corner after corner, turn after turn, we eventually reached an even quieter road. The place was deserted. There was no one around, just the two of us.

I slowed down, watching him carefully.

He kept walking like he knew where he was going. Well, duh.

Then, he stopped.

I also stopped, quickly stepping behind a nearby wall.

He stood there for a moment, looking around.

I held my breath.

Did he see me?

After what felt like an eternity, he continued walking.

Where was he going?

He better hurry up. My feet are killing me.

I rubbed the back of my neck and kept following him.

Then, finally, he stopped in front of an old-looking building.

I slowed down, watching him as he reached for the door.

Now we're talking.

I stayed where I was, keeping a safe distance as he disappeared inside.

I stared at the building for a moment.

So this was where he was headed.

Hmm. Smart.

Now I just had to figure out what he was doing there.

So, I waited.

Five minutes.

Finally, the door opened.

There he was.

He stepped outside, glanced around the street, and started walking away from the building.

I straightened up.

Finally.

I waited a few seconds before following him again. This time, I didn't bother hiding my presence. I caught up to him, covering his mouth with my hand.

“Make a sound and you die,” I said coldly, the pocket knife visible in my other hand against his neck.

He froze.

I forced him against a nearby wall.

His eyes widened as he finally realized he had been cornered.

I faced him, but the knife was still against his neck.

“Who are you?” he asked nervously.

“That's not your concern. Answer my questions.”

“Who are you?” he asked again, bolder this time.

“Okay then. Since you are dying to know, I'm going to tell you a story,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Four years ago, there was a happy girl with a happy family. They weren't the wealthiest, but they were happy, and had each other. Until one day, on her fifteenth birthday, two masked men broke into their home and killed her parents right in front of her.

Then they set the house on fire with the girl still inside. But they didn't know she was in there, because her parents had managed to hide her before they came.

And so, the happy girl clawed her way out of the burning house, promising to avenge her parents’ deaths.

From that day on, the happy girl was never truly happy.” I finished.

“What does that have to do with me?” he asked.

“Unknown to them, before the masked men left, she caught sight of a dragon tattoo on each of their arms—the same tattoo you have.” I gave him a pointed stare.

He stared at me for a few seconds, his expression slowly changing.

“I didn't do anything.”

“I never said you did, did I now?” I smirked.

He tried to escape, but I pressed the knife deeper, grazing him in the process.

Hopefully, he realized I wasn't bluffing.

“Don't even think about it,” I warned.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

I let out a humorless laugh.

“Really? Then explain the tattoo.”

His breathing became heavier.

“Who do you work for?”

“I can't.”

“You can.”

“No, I—”

“Who. Do. You. Work. For?”

He stared at me, then glanced down at the knife pressed against his neck.

Then his expression changed.

Fear. Raw fear.

“You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into,” he whispered.

A cold smile tugged at my lips.

“Maybe not.”

I leaned closer.

“But you're going to tell me anyway.”

“I'm not telling you anything. I'd rather die.”

Okay, then. Fine by me. He wasn't exactly useful to begin with.

Just when I was about to apply pressure to the knife and finish him off, a black van pulled up. Three men got out, all dressed in black, wearing black masks and carrying guns.

The guy I was holding must have noticed that I was distracted because he shoved me, forcing me to take a step back.

“Brothers,” he announced, walking over to them.

Before I could so much as blink, one of the masked men shot him in the head, leaving his body on the floor.

Holy shit!

The fuck just happened?

The taller one walked towards me, probably to do God knows what. Before he could so much as touch me, I lunged at him, knife in hand. He reacted quickly, grabbing my wrist and forcing my hand open. The knife slipped from my fingers and hit the ground with a thud.

Shit.

He swung at me.

I ducked just in time, feeling the air rush past me as his fist missed.

I punched him again before driving my knee into his balls.

He stumbled backward and dropped to the ground, groaning as he held his crotch.

I took a step toward him.

He looked up just in time to see my knee coming toward his face.

That's right, motherfucker. Feel the pain.

I made a mental note to thank Bryan for all that training later.

Something hit the back of my head.

I went completely still.

I reached up and touched the back of my head.

My blood.

My vision blurred, and the ground began to tilt beneath my feet.

Those slimy fuckers.

“Josh, carry her. Henry, clean up that mess.”

That was the last thing I heard.

Then everything went black.