THE DEADLY TWINS

Ace's pov

I was shaking so badly my teeth rattled. 

In my mad dash to submit my assignment, I had forgotten my phone back at the bar.

The assignment…

I was still holding it, clutched in my hands so tight my fingers had actually broken through the first page.

It didn't matter anymore. 

Since I was standing here, then it was Professor Williams who got that bullet.

I dropped the file. It fluttered around me, scattering to the floor.

I needed to get out of the open, to hide. I wasn't a runner and the sharp pain in my side was getting worse and worse with every panicked breath I took.

I forced myself to move, my body protesting as I stumbled forward.

I ducked into the first building I saw— an abandoned concrete structure with shattered windows and graffiti crawling up the walls. It seemed like it was an administrative building of some sort because of all the desks covered in dust and the cubicles that now housed all sorts of critters.

My body gave out the moment I stepped inside.

I collapsed against the bottom of the staircase, clutching the metal railing as my stomach lurched. I gagged, then vomited onto the cold floor, my breath tearing violently in and out of me.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my shaking hand, vision swimming. I forced myself to climb the stairs, arms warped around my aching stomach.

What would I do? What could I do?

The killer had probably seen my face because of that damn lamp. So even if I escaped tonight, what about tomorrow? Next week?

How far would he be willing to go to protect his secret?

“I won’t talk to the police,” I whispered, as it became more and more of a struggle to lift my legs. “I won’t—”

And I wouldn't. I knew better. 

This place was a graveyard built on money and corruption. The billionaires and crime families ran everything. The police didn’t solve crimes, they covered them up.

That was why rent was cheap enough that I could comfortably afford it.

A gunshot sounded somewhere in the distance. I flinched so hard my knees almost buckled.

Had that been meant for me?

I entered the first room on that floor, which looked to have been a communal working area. I pressed myself into a corner behind a tall metal shelf. My whole body trembled hard enough to rattle my bones.

My breathing was spiraling out of control. 

Why would anyone want to kill a philosophy history professor? I wondered idly. How— 

My thoughts ground to a halt. My head snapped up, terror flaring all over again when I heard a sound. 

A voice.

Another voice joined the first, and I blinked. There were other people here.

People meant safety… right? The killer wouldn't want to create more witnesses.

Or at least, it meant not dying alone.

My decision was made.

I forced myself up and staggered outside the room, swallowing another wave of nausea. I followed the voices until I reached a half-open door, light leaking through the crack.

I stumbled inside without thinking.

“Please— please, you have to help me—”

The words died in my throat at the sight of the two men standing in the room.

I had thought they'd be homeless. I had thought the people I found would be sitting together, huddled around a crude fire, talking about their day.

These men did not look homeless.

Both of them were in immaculate, dark suits. Both turned slowly toward me.

And both were standing over a body— freshly killed, blood still dripping onto the concrete.

My breath froze.

What the hell? 

They were beautiful in a way that didn’t look real in this filthy, broken building, and the single harsh light over my own head caught the sharp lines of their faces.

The first man tilted his head, shoulder-length dark hair sliding like ink across his cheek. His eyes were cold, steel coloured. They pierced straight through me.

The second man looked nearly identical, but warmer, or at least amused. One brow arched, and a faint smile pulled at his lips.

And then I realized, my eyes widened, that I knew these faces. Everyone did.

I had stumbled into The Volkov twins, two of the deadliest mafia dons in America. 

Just my fucking luck.

I shook harder, fear threatening to overwhelm my heart and make it explode in my chest.

I had heard stories, oh the stories. 

First of all, no one ever escaped them. They promised death and they delivered.

A few weeks ago, they had slit the throat of a governor in his own heavily-guarded home before anyone even knew they were there. It had been all over the news because they'd left their cufflinks neatly beside the bleeding body.

What were they doing here?

“Well, look at you,” the smiling one cooed— Ivan, I guessed. 

His voice sent a bolt of fear so primal I wanted to lay down and show my belly. I needed to make them understand that I wasn't a threat.

“No, no— please,” I started my lips shaking so badly my words came out in a stutter. “I didn’t know you— I swear, I was just trying to get away—”

Nikolai stepped into the light, blood spattered his crisp white shirt like paint. I took an involuntary step back.

My stomach twisted at the sight. I had jumped from the  frying pan into the fucking fire.

Nikolai cocked his head, his brows gently pulling down as he looked at me. Ivan pulled out his gun lazily, twirling it once.

“Well, brother? Should we get rid of him? He could be a spy.”

I shook my head violently. “I’m not— I’m not a spy! I just— someone killed my professor and— he chased me, and please— I’m just a student!”

Nikolai lifted a hand and Ivan paused.

“No,” Nikolai said softly, his eyes locked on my trembling form. Both Ivan and I were surprised at that. “I have something else in mind.”

Something else?

Oh God no, he was going to take off my skin and leave me under the sun until I died screaming, wasn't he?

His voice was silk wrapped around a blade, as he said, “You’re coming with us.”

My heart stopped.

“No— no, please! I’m not— I didn’t see—”

I wouldn't survive the Volkov twins. They had no humanity, none at all, from all the stories I'd heard.

I'd take my chances with the other guy than with these two demons in front of me. At least I had outrun that man once, at least had a chance of escaping.

I bolted for the door running on only pure instinct. All I had to do was get out and just never stop running.

It was so close— 

I barely took three steps when pain exploded through my shoulder, sending me crashing onto the concrete with a piercing scream.

My vision blurred. Warm blood soaked into my shirt.

Footsteps approached. Nikolai crouched beside me, gripping my chin and forcing my face upward.

“I do not like repeating myself,” he murmured softly, as if I was an insolent child watching TV past his bedtime.

“Please, I didn't want—” I whimpered, trying to move, but everything hurt. My arm sat heavy at my side useless.

A rough sack dropped over my head, muffling my panicked sobs. I kicked, thrashed, struggled with everything I had, even as the pain threatened to blind me.

Until something hard slammed into the back of my skull.

There was a harsh burst of white light behind my eyes then the darkness swallowed me whole.