The Crates

[NIKOLAI'S POV]

The gun lay on the bed between us, loaded and ready.

Hazel darted for the gun without hesitation and she grabbed it.

I remained where I was, watching her.

Her hands were far from steady as she tried to aim it at me. I've seen kids with more nerves than her.

Her tears rolled over her cheeks as she struggled with the blind hate in her eyes.

"You can't kill someone with that much anger brewing in you, Hazel," I blew smoke in her direction, digging my thumb in my pocket.

She wasn't listening to me. Her hands were shaking, her hair was a mess and for a while there, she looked like a mad woman.

So this is what it looks like to be spiteful. I was intrigued by her rage and hate.

After all, I was the same man who murdered her entire family.

"You made a big mistake," she sobbed, gritting her teeth with bitterness. "For a smart guy, that was a very dump move. You shouldn't have handed me the gun."

My jaws clenched as I dropped the cigarette on the floor and stepped on it. "Trust me, princess. I never make mistakes."

"Shut up," she was closing the distance between us. She seemed to prefer a close range shot than long range. "I don't give two fucks. Your life is mine and I'm going to enjoy taking it from you."

I leaned my back against the wall and pointed my chin at her. "Hazel. If you shoot me now, it wouldn't give you the satisfaction you deserve."

She was within my range now. Her eyes were so teary I doubt she could see clearly but the murderous intent was there.

There was no mistaking it. She was as bloodlust as a honey bear was for honey.

"Nothing would give me more satisfaction than pulling this bullet through your head," her voice was croaking like a huge lump was stuck in her throat.

I raised my shoulders. "Wouldn't you want to take a knife and slit my wrists opened? Wouldn't it please you to see me bleed slowly? Wouldn't it make you ecstatic to watch me suffer hell firsthand before handling me over to the devil?"

She passed a tongue across her dry lips. Her sobbing ceased. She was listening to my words.

"A bullet is such a cheap way to kill someone," I cocked my head at her. "It's quick and easy and painless. A slow and painful death is benefiting for a man as cruel as me, don't you think so?"

Hazel was conflicted inside. She was hesitant. She wanted to pull that trigger. She wanted to put a bullet in my head.

But something was holding her back.

She was weak. She was awfully weak. She has the resolve but no willpower to execute any action.

I leaned forward and placed my forehead before the barrel.

"Go ahead, Hazel. Pull the fucking trigger. You'd be doing me a huge favour, you know. I'm a filthy sinner deserving of the hottest parts of hell. I don't deserve to live. You think I want living after all the things I've done? You thought wrong. End me. This is your chance. You might never get another."

She swallowed hard. Her knees were buckling. She shut her eyes and bite her lips so hard it drew blood.

Fresh tears rolled down her eyes.

For a long time, we stood facing each other without saying anything.

Not for once did my gaze waver. "You've got killer in your eyes, princess," my eyes narrowed. "But I don't see it."

Hazel slowly lowered the gun.

I frowned and snatched the gun from her. "You disgust me."

Hazel's dropped to her knees her head buried in her palms. She began to cry.

I sighed and squatted before her. My hands stroked her smooth red hair. The gun in my right hand felt heavy.

"You really want to kill me, don't you, Hazel?" I clenched my jaws as I inhaled her scent, her heat, the shampoo in her hair. "You can never kill me. Not at this rate. You're not ready."

She was shivering but her anger wasn't centered at me anymore. It was more on herself.

"You lost an attempt to kill me," I patted her on the head playfully. "As part of our agreement, you'd do as I say."

"Just go away," she sniffed. "Leave me alone."

"Here's my first order," I continued like I didn't hear her. "I order you to have a good night rest. It's already nighttime and you must be tired. I had ordered the maids to bring you something to eat."

"Get out!" She screamed her lungs out.

I stood up and unloaded the gun then locked it in the drawer chest.

I glanced at my wrist watch. "I'll be gone for a business meeting. Tomorrow, we carry on with our reunion, Hazel."

She didn't say anything and that was enough answer for me.

I walked out of the room and locked the doors from outside. I took the keys along with me.

Only one maid possesses a spare key to my bedroom. Walking down the hallway, I met her waiting for me.

She bowed slightly. "Master Nikolai, Vladimir left a message. He wants you at the slaughterhouse."

"Ask what she likes and serve her dinner," I walked passed her and headed into the elevator.

* * * *

I took the Lamborghini and drove all the way with full speed to the club.

Vladimir was waiting outside when I pulled up. He bowed slightly when he saw me and ushered me inside.

The club was deserted. Usually by this time, it's filled to the brim with customers but It's my bet my men cleared the place for some privacy.

"Lock the doors," Vladimir snarled at my men. They obeyed and took their positions guarding the entrance.

"Where's Kwame?" I asked as we got into the elevator.

"The wine chamber. He's there with Anton," he replied, dialing the passcode. The elevator rode us down to the wine chambers built underground.

"This had better be good," I walked out as soon as the steel doors rolled opened.

Anton and Kwame were standing over three crates, talking in low tones. They turned when they saw me approaching.

"What took you so long, Nikolai?" Anton asked. "You kept us waiting."

"Go fuck yourself," I stood beside him, fishing out a cigarette from my case. "So what's this about, Anton?"

Anton waved at the three crates. "Earlier this evening, our cocaine landed on shore and I sent the boys to pick it up."

I studied the crates and my jaws clenched. "These aren't our crates."

"You're damn right they aren't," Anton's frown deepened. "Our men picked up the wrong crates. Our cocaine got shipped to the wrong location and we ended up with these."

I lit up my cigarette. "What's in the fucking crate, Anton?"

"You're not gonna like it, Boss," Kwame said quietly and I saw tension in his eyes. "It's hot stuff."

I pointed the butt end of my cigarette at him. "Just open the fucking crates."

Anton took two steps back and passed his hand over his sweaty face as Kwame and Vladimir opened the crates.

I didn't know how long I stood there but long enough to drink in what was infront of me.

I held my cigarette between my fingers, my face impassive but deep inside, my nerves were jumpy.

I've smuggled hot stuffs, cocaine, guns, explosives, drugs. The list is unending.

But this stuff was something I've never handled before but I know its history.

In fact there wasn't a man operating in the illegal business that knows nothing about this stuff.

Stellarite. An extremely rare crystalline mineral that held the components to create bombs a thousand times more destructive than an atomic bomb.

It's so rare we could only hear about it in stories but haven't seen one.

World leaders were hunting for it like pirates on a search for treasures.

Stellarite is sold at $100,000 per gram and I've got three crates of it.

"Where the hell did you find these?" I didn't recognize my voice. It was grave and unnecessarily rough.

Anton looked at me. "I told you. We picked up the wrong crates."

I shook my head but not once did I take my eyes off that crate for one second. "No, this is government property. Someone is supplying them this stuff."

"I say let's get rid of it," Anton suggested.

"No," my nerves were calm now. "Keep it in hiding and give me twenty-four hours to think."

I couldn't help landing my thoughts on Hazel.