Chapter 13 - Mark
“Make memories. Leave footprints in the sand.” – Anonymous.
I shot two men today. The good news: they both deserved it. Fucking rats everywhere, selling tiny bits of information about things they knew nothing about. Their fate was sealed, signed, and stamped, when Yuri brought them into my office thirty minutes after I heard the news of her escape.
The sad part?
Today, I was trigger happy. And there was no stopping anytime soon.
Yuri eyed the bloodied, lifeless men on the floor and looked up at me over the laptop screen, face hardened. “There’s blood on the carpet. And on the wall too.”
I swirled on the leather chair, my gun in one hand, and my phone in the other. I twitched my brow. “So?”
“It irritates you.”
“You’re irritating me.” I glanced at my watch. “Where the fuck is she?”
He lowered his head, his fingers resuming the rapid click-click on the keyboard. “Haven’t found her yet, but I will soon. If the CCTV footage hadn’t been removed, we’d have found her in no time. It’s obvious she had help. What kind of help? I’m not certain. But it was a clean inside job. Skillfully done too. No worries, though. This is our city; she can’t run far. We’ll get her.”
I scoffed. “You haven’t found her yet and you’re talking about the blood smears on the carpet.”
“Blood pool,” he stated. “You’re angry, boss. And I haven’t seen you like this for a long time. Not even when we were dealing with Ruslan.”
Fuck, Ruslan.
I was not just angry; I was furious and livid.
The blood that boiled in my veins went a different way than when she made it boil. Red clouded my vision, flooded my thoughts, and motivated my every action at that moment. My mind was in a dangerous state.
“Yuri, more people will fucking die if I don’t know where she is in the next few hours.”
“Understood.”
He left my office with a serious expression, and I slumped back in my chair with a mischievous grin as I relived the moments of the night with her. The night I had conquered her. She didn’t know it, but I had left a mark on her that would make me unforgettable. No matter how far away she ran, she would never be able to escape me.
You could have called it something like: Obsession, pure lust, fucking insanity. I didn’t care.
Addison Mae was mine, and mine alone.