thanh.nguyenhoang.1403@gmail.com
Stories
14
Chapters
126
Words
171.5 K
Comments
0
Reading
14 h, 17 m
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Nikolai The biometric scanner glows a sterile, bloody red before flashing green. The heavy steel-core door of the master suite slides open with a pneumatic hiss. I guide Anya inside, my hand resting heavily on the curve of her spine. I feel the rigid tension humming through her muscles, tight as a drawn bowstring. She had stared at the silver lighter on my desk as if I had placed a severed head before her. She knows what it means. She knows what I am. And yet, she walks into the inner sanctum of my…-
13.3 K • Completed
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Anya Survival in a warzone is a matter of mathematics. I stand by the floor-to-ceiling windows of the master suite, a porcelain cup of untouched black tea warming my hands. Outside, the morning frost coats the Sokolov estate, but my mind is not on the landscape. I am counting. Two armed men at the perimeter gates. Shift changes every four hours, leaving a thirty-second overlap where the northern blind spot goes entirely unmonitored. The internal security cameras in the hallway pan in a fixed…
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13.3 K • Completed
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Anya The interior of the study is a tomb of shadows, illuminated only by the jagged flashes of lightning tearing through the Chicago sky. I do not turn on the brass reading lamp. I move entirely by memory and the pale moonlight spilling across the Persian rug. The grey maintenance card is slick with the sweat of my palm. I step past the heavy mahogany desk, ignoring the silver Zippo lighter that mocks me from the darkness. My focus is entirely on the wall panel behind Nikolai’s leather chair. I run my…
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13.3 K • Completed
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Anya The glowing red numbers on the digital lock burn into my retinas, turning my blood to Freon. 04-11. My birthday. My lungs refuse to expand. The heavy leather ledger in my lap suddenly feels like a live explosive. The syndicate narrative is that my father went bankrupt, and Nikolai Sokolov simply collected me as a final, degrading tax on a defeated enemy. It was supposed to be a transaction of convenience. But a man like Nikolai does not encode his deepest secrets, his financial ruin, and his…
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13.3 K • Completed
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Nikolai The silence stretches, heavy and agonizing in the crimson glow of the study. I watch the truth shatter the fragile architecture of her world. The Makarov pistol trembles in Anya's grip, pressed directly over my heart. She is processing the ultimate betrayal, realizing the savior she mourned for three years was the very monster who sold her to the highest bidder in Macau. Her finger twitches on the trigger. I do not move. If the pain of the truth demands my blood, I will let her take it. But…
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13.3 K • Completed
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Anya The underground Bratva clinic smells of industrial bleach, copper, and sterile gauze. It has been forty-eight hours since the shootout at the estate. I have not slept. I sit in the uncomfortable plastic chair at the end of the private recovery room, the heavy leather ledger resting securely on my lap. The blood on my hands has been scrubbed away, but I am still wearing Nikolai’s oversized, ruined suit jacket over my borrowed scrubs. It smells like him—smoke, ozone, and survival. Viktor stands…
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13.3 K • Completed
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