Chapter 4

NATASHA “That bastard!” I yelled to no one in particular as I walked down the road that led to my home. Oh, I was infuriated. I was mad. I was so angry, and yet, I was incredibly turned on. I was a mess! I hated how pompously he acted, assuming that I enjoyed his touch. I hated even more that I really had enjoyed the touch. My head tingled as I recalled the way he had grabbed my hair. It had felt thrilling, I could swear I felt myself grow slick with desire. I couldn't help it, really. One minute I was furious with him, the next minute, I found myself wishing he would rip my top apart and just touch me where I needed him. My nipples begged desperately for his attention. For his hands. “Stop thinking about him!” I snapped at myself, quickening my steps home. I had to see Alisa. But before I did, I needed to take a bath and change into something presentable. My sister would lose her marbles if I stepped into her giant house wearing tattered jeans. I stepped into the house, took a quick shower and changed into the prettiest dress I had. It was a cream floral dress Alisa had bought some months ago. I never had any events to go to, and it wasn't exactly club material, so I rarely wore it. Taking a deep breath, I left the house, eager to see Alisa. I couldn't tell her about the job with Luca. But at least I could see her one last time before the week was over. Our life had been simple growing up. We lived in Russia and contrary to what plenty of people thought about Russian childhood, Alisa and I were raised in a happy home. We had the most amazing parents, they did everything they could do to make us happy. But it all ended when I turned fifteen. Alisa had barely marked her twelfth year when one night, men from the Russian Mafia barged into our home, murdered our parents and then kidnapped us. That was the end of a happy childhood. Everything that made me happy, died that night. Except Alisa. And I would do anything to protect that bit of happiness. The mafia boss had told them to send us to the brothel. The thought of Alisa getting abused in a lousy place disgusted me. So I had fought. And begged. And promised to do anything else as long as my sister would be kept separate from their world. The boss made a deal with me then. “I'll let your sister go, if you can prove your worth to me in a year.” I chuckled as I thought about my training days. I had worked my ass off. I had taken every blow, every kick to the head, gone through hell and back, but as long as Alisa could be kept safe. As long as Alisa could dream of a better future, a better world, I would be fine. When I turned sixteen, my first mission dropped. The Target was the son of a minister, and all I had was a pocket knife as a weapon. I had refused. I didn't think proving my worth meant I would have to kill someone. I thought all I needed to do was grow stronger. But when the boss held a knife to Alisa's neck, when I saw her blood slowly drip from the cut he had given her, I had accepted the mission. And I succeeded. And thus, deadly assassin Vera Ivanov was born. I couldn't count the number of people I had killed over the years. I never kept track of them. But it gave Alisa freedom, and she could live without worrying about anything. I had hoped that would be enough. I had hoped I was enough. I had come back home from a mission one day to see my eighteen-year-old sister packing her bags. She had scored a visa to the USA, and she wanted to leave. “I hate you,” she said. “I hate your work. I hate that everything we had is because you kill people for a living!” Alisa, the very person I had fought for, hated me. I did what any big sister in their right senses would do. I let her go. She moved to America, found a wealthy man who loved her and had a stable life. And that was enough for me, wasn't it? I thought, standing before the Cooper mansion. I always thought his last name sucked. Mathew Cooper. What kind of hellish name was that? Shaking my head, I pressed the bell on the gate. They must have seen me from their cameras because the gates slid open automatically and I stepped in. I had barely taken three steps in when my sister came running out of the house, screaming like a banshee, and threw herself on me. “Vera!” I winced at the name but held out my hand to hug her anyway. We stayed that way for a while before Mathew cleared his throat. “If anyone saw that, they would think I didn't treat her well,” He grumbled. Mathew was a dark - haired, twenty seven-year-old geek who was born into a wealthy family. He was into tech and shit, I didn't know exactly what and I didn't care. As long as he took care of Alisa. I was fine. “I'm sure you do your best Mathew,” I told him, smiling and turned to face my sister. She had my mother's gray eyes and round face. She was everything I wasn't. Innocent, happy and safe. And I wanted to keep it that way. “Come on, let's go in!” She cheered, and I shook my head, running a knuckle down her cheeks. “I just wanted to see you,” I murmured. “I just wanted to know you're safe.” Alisa frowned, exchanging looks with her husband. “I am safe. Why wouldn't I be?” Oh sweet, sweet Alisa. I wished she would remain just as she was. I wished she wouldn't hate me again. “I'm glad,” I told her, hugging her one last time. “I'm glad you're safe. I'll always keep you safe.” “Vera-” I pulled away to see the question on her face. Her eyes searched mine and then widened. “No!” She yelled, shaking her head rapidly. Shit! So much for being subtle. I hadn't wanted her to know! “Alisa, calm down-” “No. You won't. You can't do it!” “You're going to kill someone again, aren't you?!" She screamed, stepping away from me.