Downswing Page 12

  Hound finished her story, clapping her hands together, once again returning to the half-mad woman from before.

  "But I always kept tabs on Foxy! That's why when she was kidnapped a year ago, I pulled a bunch of strings at the CIA to send me over here to look for her. The CIA thought she had been taken by Korol, since he owned the club she was taken from, but they couldn't prove it. So, I went straight to the only other man who could scare this Korol guy, Leonid Sokolov, but accidently ended up impressing him so now I'm working for him! Good thing Leo is so scary, otherwise I couldn't have quit the CIA to help Emilia get revenge." Hound laughed, slapping her knee.

  "Jaysus Christ." Kiernan breathed, Fritz nodding emphatically next to him.

  "Now!" Hound leapt to her feet, walked right over to Jane, leaned down, and smiled a crazed smile right into the MI6 superior’s face.

  "You want to tell me what the fuck Korol did to my Foxy while you stood by and watched for over a fucking year?"

  Jane simply stared at Hound through half slit eyes, while red dots appeared all over Hound's body, making everyone aware of the many snipers that had their scopes on the room. The Hound didn't even flinch, but her smile widened, her crazed eyes sparkling dangerously.

  "Won't you tell me, Janey? Won't you?" Hound asked, tilting her head.

  Jane gave a sigh, leaning forward and patting the crazy woman's cheek.

  "Emilia will tell that tale when she's good and ready." Jane sat back, raising her eyebrow at Hound.

  "Now, please back up. I don't want to start a war with Sokolov over you getting shot in the ass by a sniper."

  Hound was still as stone for a long moment. She suddenly stood to her full height, flipped her hair over her shoulder, and strode back to her spot on the couch. Kamili instantly cuddled up to her, and Hound gave a delighted laugh at the close contact with the young African girl.

  "Are there any other questions for tonight? Tomorrow, we will start packing and moving out to your new base. We have secured a large mansion on the island of Lesbos, outside of Korol's direct sight for now. I believe you're familiar with the island, Jazz?" Jane asked the Albanian woman, who nodded emphatically.

  "You will stay there for at least the next year and are free to do as you like. As stated, I am not officially your boss, Emilia is, and all direction will come directly from her."

  Everyone in the room nodded, save Silas, who spoke up suddenly.

  "I have one more question about Emilia." He drawled, looking to Jane, then to Hound, then finally to Roy.

  "Go ahead, though I think you all know just as much as we know about her now." Jane sighed, glancing to the grandfather clock against the back wall.

  "I find it very interesting that a normal, happy girl, thirteen years of age, would have enough skill- let alone courage - to take down four fully grown men inside of a locked apartment. Did no one else find this odd?" Silas tilted his head and his gaze fell on Roy, who was steadfastly looking at the ground.

  Everyone in the room turned to Roy at that, waiting for an explanation.

  Roy looked up, saw everyone's eyes on him, and let out a long, tired sigh.

  "Hm. Is it that strange, Roy boy, for Foxy to have done that?" Hound tilted her head at Roy, too, her expression clearly stating she genuinely didn't understand why it was unusual for a thirteen-year-old girl to slaughter four fully grown men.

  "Yes, you crazy fuck, normal kids don't go around killing people. If she had been a normal thirteen-year-old girl, she should've went straight to her parents. Or even the police. Right? That would be normal." Cin looked up at Silas, almost as if he was asking to make sure that’s what normal sounded like. Silas nodded.

  "Wow, I never even thought to ask that! So, then, why did she kill them? Huh, Roy boy?" Hound asked again, her head still tilted in confusion.

  Roy looked at Hound for a moment, then down at Kamili, who was still clinging to the crazy woman. Both of their eyes were big, and full of question. I watched as Roy struggled for a moment internally, his emotions showing on his face, before he finally shook his head, giving another long sigh.

  "Hound, Emilia didn't live in that apartment building, she only visited from time to time. She would come and stay with her grandmother, the only relative she knew on her biological father's side. Her father wanted nothing to do with her, and neither did any of the living members of his family except for his mother, Catherine Smith. Emilia's mother would let her visit her grandmother Catherine, but the poor woman had no idea she was leaving her little girl in the hands of a serial killer."

  A shocked silence met the room, and my jaw dropped open.

  "Wait, wait, wait. Emilia's grandmother-" Meiling started in a shrill voice, but Roy cut her off.

  "When she was brought into custody, shortly after the incident with Hound's uncle, Catherine Smith fully admitted to murdering at least seventeen people, all male, including all three of her former husbands. Investigators delved into Catherine's background, and the family history, and we found out that she was an immigrant from Romania, and that she was the daughter of a woman named… Vera Renczi."

  "WHAT?!" Jazz screamed, leaping up from her seat.

  "You know that name, Jazzy?" Kiernan questioned, frowning at her.

  "She is famous in our region. It is said that Vera Renczi murdered thirty-five people, including her own son. She is a myth, nobody can even say that she truly existed." Jazz said, and the room grew hushed.

  "She did exist, and she wrote a series of letters to her only surviving child, her daughter Catherine. The letters were discovered after the police raided Catherine's apartment. Within the letters were detailed instructions on the best methods of killing a man, and they encouraged Catherine to carry on her mother’s legacy, of ‘bringing all immoral men to justice’. And Catherine did just that… and had been teaching Emilia exactly what her mother had taught her. She admitted to police that to introduce Emilia to ‘the family trade’, Catherine made Emilia watch as she slowly murdered a man who had been peeping into women's windows around the area. Emilia was seven years old at the time. "

  I felt my chest tighten, and sympathy flowed through me. I looked up and saw the same expression on everyone else's faces. They, too, all empathized with the young girl in the story. We had all been in Emilia's shoes, witnessing things at an early age that we should have been spared.

  "I couldn't tell at all." Frtiz spoke up, his arms crossed. "She doesn't have the eyes of a killer. I've never met anyone that has been able to fool me before." Fritz turned to me, frowning.

  "Did she fool you?"

  I frowned, thinking back to when I had first met Emilia, after Ivan and Zane - two of Korol's personal bodyguards- had abducted her. She had awoken on the private jet, faced with unknown men speaking Russian, a foreign language to her at the time. She had looked around, and I remembered the look of shock and horror on her face. That had lasted all of two seconds before Emilia had stolen my heart with her next expression.

  Her eyes had gleamed with a frozen determination. No hysterical crying from the girl, just that icy stare that demanded respect and could bring full grown men to their knees.

  I raised my head, looking over at Fritz.

  "I knew she was more than what she appeared to be."

  Everyone in the room nodded, and we all stood.

  "Okay, everyone. Please get a good night's rest tonight. Tomorrow, we move out!" Jane said in her jubilant voice, making nearly everyone flinch.

  "Come on, Ugly. I guess you can go with me to see Foxy." Hound pouted, walking past me. I rolled my eyes, following her into the foyer, while everyone lightly chatted.

  "Excuse me, Miss O'Connor?" A guard suddenly separated from the shadows of the hall, appearing at our side.

  "Hm?" The crazed woman turned to the guard, giving him a blank stare.

  "Miss Fox is awake and has asked to speak to you privately."

  "Yay! My Foxy!" She sang, giggling happily. She turned to me, shrugging her shoulders. "Sorry, Ugly, gues
s you're going to have to wait! Ha-ha." The woman stuck out her tongue, then darted up the stairs to the second floor, shouting for Emilia.

  I stared after the woman, exasperation overtaking me. I gave a long sigh, following everyone up the stairs.

  "D'yavol."

  I stopped at the top of the stairs, turning to the voice that had called me. Silas stood there, Cin waiting for him further down the hall. Silas stared at me, his face a stoic mask. He strode forward suddenly, stepping right into my personal space. He leaned close, whispering words of warning so quietly only I could hear.

  "Guard your feelings closer. Let no one else know you are in love with la princesse. It will only bring trouble to her for now."

  "Oi, what are you doing, Silas?" Cin strode closer, his face mottled with anger, and a distinct hint of jealousy.

  I raised a brow down at Silas, leaning towards him, and whispering back.

  "The same to you, prints." I deliberately called him prince in Russian. "Guard your feelings. And have Cin do the same."

  Cin reached us, forcefully pulling Silas away from me. Silas exhaled loudly, suddenly smacking Cin on the head.

  "That hurt, you fuck!" Cin yelped, rubbing his head.

  "Shut up, chien." Silas snarled, calling Cin a dog in French. The pair continued arguing down the hall, but went inside the same bedroom, slamming the door shut angrily behind them.

  I listened for a moment before moving onwards down the opposite hall to my room. I walked in and sat on the bed, resting silently. I could hear the muffled voices of the girls on the other side, and as I laid down, I let the muffled sound of Emilia's voice lull me to sleep.

  I will never reveal my true feelings, little prince. Don't you worry. If she ever discovers the filthy blood running through my veins, she won’t even look at me, let alone let me stand in her presence. She is so far beyond my reach, I can only look to the light she sheds and dream of her warmth.

  I snorted at my thoughts before letting sleep claim me.

  She turned me into a fucking poet. Fuck me.

  Chapter Twelve

  Man With The Ax

  Emilia

  "FOXYYYYYY!"

  I smiled at the sound of Hound screaming her freaking head off outside of my door.

  "Here, Hound, I'm here!" I yelled back as best I could, laughing softly.

  My door burst open and Hound flew in, slamming the door shut behind her. She crouched as if to leap up on the bed but stopped suddenly, her eyes wide. She snapped back up straight, walking slowly to my bedside. She looked at me with big eyes, her bottom lip quivering. I smiled gently, patting the space beside me.

  "Come here, you."

  She brightened, gently crawling in bed beside me. We wrapped our arms around each other, snuggling close. She laid her head on my chest, and I stroked her hair. I closed my eyes and held her close, listening to her breathing. I kissed the top of her head, whispering softly to her.

  "My fierce hound. Loyal and brave."

  Hound looked up at me, giving me a bright smile. I inspected her fully, shaking my head and smiling at how breathtaking the woman in front of me had become. I remembered the gangly teenager, covered in bruises and pale as death.

  At the memory, my smile slipped from my face. I touched her cheek and brought our lips together softly. Wrapping my arms around her again, we held each other close for a while, whispering to each other softly, reminiscing about our childhood play dates.

  An hour or two passed, and we had lulled into a comfortable silence. I was still stroking her beautiful hair, cuddling her close to me.

  "Foxy."

  I looked down at Hound, and her big eyes were staring straight into my heart.

  "Are you okay?"

  My breath suddenly stilled, and I felt my heart shatter at the simple question. Tears leapt to my eyes, and I felt the dam inside of me break, forcing the tears out to cascade down my face. I clutched her close and broke down, sobbing into my old friend’s hair. Her gentle hands held me tightly, letting me cry. All the broken pieces of my heart rattled inside my chest, and the shock I had been suppressing made my body start to shake. My injuries stung as I did this, but I let my heart pour out as I was held in the arms of my cherished childhood friend.

  Finally, I quieted, and we lay facing each other, staring at each other for long moments.

  "Foxy." Hound whispered. I smiled, bringing her hand to my lips.

  "Are you going to get revenge?"

  I looked at my friend for the span of a few heartbeats, then slowly sat up. I slunk off the side of the bed, walking to the desk in the corner of the room. A pen and paper lay there, and I sat at the desk, clicking open the pen.

  "Hound. I need you to do two things for me while I'm gone. Can you do that?"

  Hound sat up, and the half-mad expression she wore slowly melted to that of a cold, serious woman.

  "What do you need, Fox?" She asked quietly, getting up and walking to stand beside me.

  "First," I began, writing on the paper in front of me. "I need you to gather a list of names for me. There was a group of men who visited Korol's mansion a week ago. They were there for business, and I believe they were prominent business men that Korol was looking to buy recently. They're going to be CEO's, upcoming leaders who have newly formed mafia connections. There may even be one or two high-ranking government officials. I need to know the name of every last person that was there, and all intel you can gather about them. Can you do this?"

  "Of course, Fox. Can I ask why?" Hound tilted her head curiously.

  I looked up at her, my eyes flat and cold.

  "They raped and tortured Silas, the blonde French man you saw downstairs."

  She stopped all movement, rage slowly contorting her face into a vengeful mask of hate. Just as fast as it appeared, her face went blank once again.

  "Consider it done. Please let me participate in whatever plan you decide on when I gather the information you need."

  "Of course, my love." I said, signing the paper with a flourish. Folding it in half, I kissed the seam of the paper, before holding it out to Hound.

  "My second task." I said, looking up into her eyes. "Can you please make sure Korol gets this?"

  She stared at me for several moments. Finally, she reached out and took the paper from me, thrusting it into her jacket.

  "It will be my honor, Fox."

  I smiled, grasping her hand, and bringing it to my lips again.

  "I'll see you again soon, Hound." I stood, hugging her close, kissing her cheek. She laid her hand against my cheek and kissed me softly on the lips.

  "Can I give you some advice, Foxy?” She said softly, her worried eyes trailing over my face. I smiled gently, nodding.

  “Don't let your heart make you stray from your purpose. You're going to need your heart to stay broken for a while, so nobody can break you again. Even if it means not giving in to what you truly want." She kissed me again, then walked to the door.

  She turned back to me, smiling and giggling, her face again that half-crazy mask.

  "I'll see you soon, Foxy."

  She left quickly, giving me a final frantic wave. I stood in the middle of the room for a full moment, taking in the events of the evening, and sighing at my aching injuries.

  I crawled into bed, and snuggled down, thinking of Hound's words as I started to drift off to sleep. A pair of obsidian eyes flashed across my mind and I blushed, burying my face in the pillow.

  So, she noticed.

  Sighing, I turned onto my back slowly, mindful of my injuries. Staring at the ceiling, I thought over how much my life was changing, and the ascension to my rightful place in the criminal underworld. I thought over the many allies I had gained, and looked forward to the allies I would gain in the next few years to bring Korol to his knees.

  At the thought of Korol, I recalled the message I had written him.

  And I smiled a slow, cold, ruthless smile.

  Let the game begin.

  • • •
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  Two days later.

  Ash and burnt debris were scattered throughout the property that was once the proud country estate of Korol, the fearsome king of the Russian mafia. Zakhar stood in front of the wreckage and watched as his courtyard filled with tense, exhausted, and frightened soldiers who had been fighting the fire for two days and had finally managed to snuff it out. Zakhar merely stared into the rubble, tilting his head, and sighed quietly.

  He turned to the group of soldiers, covered in filth, and noticed Sergei, shaking uncontrollably at the front of his men. Zakhar, being followed closely by seven of his eight personal bodyguards, strode forward in a businesslike manner, stepping right in front of Sergei. The man flinched, and his shaking intensified. Zakhar tilted his head at him slowly, looking the man over.

  "Sergei." The captain flinched, his gaze steadfastly focused on the ground.

  "Tell me again who did this. I've heard the story several times, but I want to hear it directly from you."

  Sergei's shaking intensified even more, and Zakhar noted the whimpering sound that came from the man. Zakhar looked over the thirty or so soldiers standing in the lineup that had been spared by the fire and the mutiny that had occurred. Every last soldier had a shell-shocked look on his face. At Zakhar's question, the men had all flinched, and some were even shaking exactly like Sergei.

  Zakhar sighed, grabbed Sergei by the collar and threw him down into the dirt, away from the other soldiers. Zakhar put his boot on the captain's chest, and bent down slowly. Sergei had stopped shaking and just stared up, his eyes dead, and his expression one of grim acceptance.

  "Are these all the men that know the situation, Sergei?" Zakhar asked the question quietly, loud enough for only Sergei to hear. The captain merely nodded, his face still showing that he clearly expected death. Zakhar looked up, his foot still on Sergei's chest and snapped his fingers in the air.