Broken Clocks

Chapter Sixteen

Milio

(Everything Milio says out loud is in Russian.)

She couldn't have...
Did she?!?!
Where in the fuck is she? 
No she couldn't have. 

"da, ser, ona vyhodit iz mashiny i razgovarivayet zhenshchiny -ofitserov vosem' tam (Yes sir, there she is. She left the car and talked to that female officer right there)."  

I watch as my wife walks in a fast pace across a busy plaza to talk to a police officer. The recording shows her and the officer getting into a police car. 

She did, she fucking left me. 

"Poluchit' nomernoy znak (Get the license plate)" 

"Put out a bounty. I want her alive, whatever it takes." I watch the video over and over making sure to get every detail I possibly can from it. 

"Takzhe otsledite kol'tsa i ustroystvo v yeye bedre. YA khochu vse, chto my mozhem poluchit' na ofitserov
(Also track the rings and the device in her thigh. I want everything we can get on the officer)." I dismiss a small group of men. 

I still can't believe it. She really left me. 

I have never theorized the possibility of her ever being brave enough to even think about leaving my side. 

How fucking dare she?

I'm going to kill her. I'm going to kill my wife. As soon as I get my hands on her she is done for. No more chances, no more warnings, I'm going to fucking kill her. 

I'm going to cut her heart out of her body. I'm going to chop off every single limb she has. Her arms and hands for opening the car door, and her legs and feet for walking away leaving me.

I'm going to fucking kill her. I am going to let her bleed out slowly through her eyes. I'm going to blind her for even looking for a way to leave me.

She is a fucking dead woman walking. When I get a hold of her I will end her in the worse possible ways. 

I open the file of the police woman my Angel fled with. Vera Von is her name. Thirty-two year old caucasian woman born in Prussia, but raised in Russia. She studied in America for eight hears on law, ethics and civil matters. 

She came back to Russia and became a police officer. 

I own the Russian police department. After my prison sentence I put a lot of effort into getting a hold of the law in Russia. By effort I mean money and I killed a few judges and officers. 

"Ubedites', chto zakon znayet, chto my pytayemsya sdelat'. YA khochu, chtoby vse iskali moyu zhenu (Make sure the law knows what we are trying to do. I want everyone looking for my wife)."

"Ser, my nashli kol'tsa na obochine dorogi. (Sir, we found the rings on the side of the road)." He hands me her engagement and wedding rings.

She took the rings off! 

My blood starts to boil. I take the guy who handed me the rings by the back of the head and smash his face into the metal table in front of me. 

I do it over and over until I feel a small amount of relief. I take staggered deep breaths while cursing in Russian. 

I'm all bloody now. I sit back down and wipe my face. "What about the tracker in her thigh?" I look to the other messenger in the room.

"Th-that one is going to take a while." He stutters. His weakness makes me cringe. 

"Why is it taking so fucking long?" He jumps out of fear at my tone. 

"It is almost six years old, sir." 

I planted the device in her left thigh right before I left for Russia. I want to know her every move. 

I massage my temples to ease the growing ake in my head. I lean back in my chair and blink at the ceiling. 

"Find the cop. Kill her family. Kill anyone who she holds dear. I don't give a fuck. Make her talk. I want my wife in my arms by nightfall or there will be hell to pay." I sit up straight in my chair and rake my hair from my face. I hold it all in one hand and put a band over it. 

I'm going to kill her. 

"What's going on?" Lucifer strolls in with a live smirk on his face. "I heard your little bird flew away." I throw him a look. 

Just because I like him doesn't mean I won't kill him. He puts his hands up sporting the same corny ass smirk. He walks to the front of my desk and sits on one of the empty chairs in front of it. 

He looks at the dead man next to me and shakes his head. "She must really be something." 

I sigh and go back to leaning in my chair while rubbing my temples. "You do even know."

Milio's pov again?? And y'all bitches better keep commenting bc I luv reading them. Until next time byeee.