𝐌𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

37 | Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

TOM
    
  
Priya Ramakrishnan is not an uneducated nor inexperienced woman in the sphere of organised crime. She knows the right people and she knows the right things about the right people. She keeps moderately under the radar and uses people at their expense in order to benefit herself - she'd be a brilliant mafia boss if it weren't for the fact she doesn't seem to have loyalty to anyone. She's a mafia of one.

Y/N and I haven't left the house very often, we did a large grocery delivery to the apartment last week and pretended as if we weren't home for almost an hour so that the food was left at reception for the lobby staff to refrigerate. This was to make sure there weren't any traps, explosives, gasses or recording devices that were time sensitive.

The staff brought it up to my apartment shortly after, where Y/N and I then rummaged through every bag, container, box and packet to see if anything was out of the ordinary. You see, we don't usually live like this, but with someone as dangerous as Priya hot on our trail, we had to be overly cautious.

Priya also knew that she wouldn't be able to attack us in a way which could detriment her court case. She couldn't poison us, she couldn't shoot us, she couldn't go anywhere near my apartment without the police being on high alert. As much as I have my 'ankle monitor' keeping me here, she has one tracking if she came within 100m of my apartment building.

If Y/N could diffuse my tracking device however, who's to say that Priya couldn't do the exact same thing? That's the most dangerous thing about Priya, none of us know what she is actually capable of. So far, we've only ever seen her coerce other people to do her dirty work. She hired snipers to keep us from killing her at Haz's house, she hired Y/N to perform jobs for her amongst numerous other employees and she seems to be relatively civil and polite when we communicate.

Maybe she's all talk and no game, maybe she just knows the right people to carry out her duties.

Y/N and I have been calling almost every hit man under the sun to try and figure out a game lane to wipe Priya out. Y/N checks in with her cop friend Amalie every few days to get updates on Priya's case so that when we find out she is convicted, we can send out our hit. My own lawyer on the other hand, is currently working on getting my case thrown out and trying to make me a free man again.

I mean, I technically am a free man but I have a pretty heinous murder charge on my record that I would really like to have wiped. It won't ever be completely wiped, but if I give the government Priya, they'll let me off.

We had a message from Amalie last night that said Priya had a warrant for her arrest and that her house was raided but found empty. There was no Priya. No signs of fleeing. No panic. There were no missing suitcases. No missing passports. No missing cash. There were no weapons. No secret hard drives. Nothing was out of the ordinary.

But they finally convinced her with the evidence Y/N had pieced together and planted. That was all we needed. My darling girl is a genius, what can I say?

So Priya was currently missing and I had sent my hit man out to find her before the police did. If I'm being completely frank, I presume he will be successful because the police aren't as skilled as my boy is. It has been fourteen hours and thirty seven minutes since Amalie told Y/N that the police were searching for Priya and since we had place a hit on Priya.

Both Y/N and I sat with our phones off silent all day, waiting for a call, a buzz, a ping or a notification saying that Priya was found. Either dead or alive, we needed to know where this bitch was. We carried on with our day, we watched movies together, had sex, cleaned and had naps but there was this looming sense of anticipation in the air as we waited.

We had decided to make a seafood pasta tonight, both of us preparing fresh ingredients next to each other on the kitchen bench. We had old 1920's music playing softly from the living room speakers and as much as we were on edge, it felt romantic; like an old married couple blissfully in love.

And then Y/N's phone went off.
A text message from Amalie.

"I don't want to open it," she whispered to me, looking down at her lock screen on the bench..

"Look we know that if it's from Amalie, it means that the police have probably taken her into custody darling. It's our back up plan, but it's still a good outcome. At least we know where she is right?" I said putting my arm around her waist and rubbing my hand against her hip soothingly.

The hand I was holding her with probably smelt like herbs because I had been chopping them up just now, but it wouldn't be dirtying her clothes I hoped. My other hand was loosely holding the knife I had been using to prepare said herbs, yet my attention was solely on what this text message had to say.

Y/N unlocked her phone, opened the text message and I heard her breath hitch. My own breathing however, only deepened as I tried to compose myself.

The text message from Amalie was simply an image and a few words beneath it. The image was dark, yet the flash showed the inside of the trunk of a car, with my hitmans body curled up and contorted, covered in blood and laying under Amalie's which looked even worse. It wasn't Amalie texting us anymore.

Both were dead. Both because of Y/N and I.
Both at the hand of Priya Ramakrishnan.

Y/N carefully put her phone down on the bench and raised her hand to her mouth, shaking at the gruesome and confronting image of her old colleague, deceased and tortured because of a favour to us. The few words beneath were burning my eyes as I read them over and over again. I slammed the knife in my hand down into the wooden chopping board in a fire fuelled rage, expelling a loud shout as I accepted that Priya was once again a step ahead of me.

    
AMALIE
Remember who you both
decided to fuck with.