Dangerous beginnings / MADE MEN BOOK 1

Finis Periculosus - A dangerous ending

story teller

Aslanov noticed the way Isabella behaved. He accepted the defeat as to what it was, not knowing an underlying threat lingered in her mind. Not knowing she had been told more. Too busy with the situation at hand, skipping important parts. He'd turn cold again, but this time like never before. He would burn the world down as there was nothing in it anymore that held any value to him. He'd make demands, killing body after body in search of enemies. He was bad with words, so she had hoped he would be good with his eyes - but he wasn't. He was so overwhelmed with the sudden pain he felt, he closed his eyes for the truth laying a bit closer. Silence became Isabella her favorite way to speak, when she would be lost of words. Her mind foggy as to what had been real and what had not. Pain lingering on the edge, knowing from her view, there could not be a happy ending. It would end in something horrific or something painful, she'd take the last since it had become her long-lost friend over time. She would have survived him, that was what she thought, but did she really? The girl who cheated death. The pain to bear of losing him would perhaps be far greater. Safe is what she had felt. She had found a safe heaven in someone so dangerous. He had unlocked parts of her she didn't know excisted, dark parts, but ever so meaningful. Somehow along the way he had made himself at home in her broken heart, threading the pieces together with needle and string. Yet he didn't fully take off his mask yet, causing her to tremble again.

So he became again what he intended to be; the villain in the stroy. He'd be the monster, the reason Isabella would lock her doors behind her. Because if she wouldn't; he'd chase her, hunt her down. He wanted to be her monster, for his black heart and tarnished soul to be hers. But he was too busy with the situation at hand. It wouldn't be long for him to realize she would become a maze with no escape. Lingering everywhere he would go; invading his mind. Stronger than initially thought.

But there would come a day where he'd see the full truth, whether that be on time - or too late.

Isabella

The car ride from prison to his mansion was less awful than this ride, and that says a lot; since he kidnapped me.

Twenty traumatic events later and it left me with nothing, except a memory.

Or ex-lover?

More an identity complex.

I don't think many have come as close as I have to him, yet there is still so much to discover. To unravel about him. What was a lie and what wasn't?

I can't help but to feel like I am losing something of importance, someone of importance. We don't say a word, none of us. The tension has never been so high with a negative load. We pass building after building. Every now and then Aslanov clenches his hands on the leather of the steering wheel. I don't dare to turn my gaze to him, afraid he is going to swallow me.

After what seems like forever we enter the gates of the airport. The silence synonyms a graveyard.

He parks the car, a sole aircraft is already in view. I'm flying back in style for the last time. A bitter smile tugs at my lips.

I don't move an inch. How do I say goodbye? The word burns acid through my veins, goodbye, an ending. Will I truly never see him again?

Aslanov turns towards me, and I'm sure he can see through me. I always feel like piece of glass with him. Instead he lifts both his arms to his neck and unclips his thin silver chain necklace.

I now turn my gaze towards him, staring at him as I raise one eyebrow, 'turn around.' I swallow and for the last time I obey. Once I'm facing away from him, the chain wraps around my neck, it's still hot from his body heat. He locks it in place behind me and once it is in place I reach my hand up to it. My finger glides over the material.

'Why-,' Aslanov immediatly cuts me off, 'Keep it, if you ever need money; it's worth more than half a million.' I gasp at the statement. My hands try to find the hook behind my neck, but he pushes my hands down.

'Make sure you never starve anymore.' Those words sting my heart, all the way until blood runs up and turns into water, filling my eyes.

I don't blink, afraid they spill. A bitter clump of pain forms itself. He knows so much about me personally.

'Because I might,' I stare at him.

It takes a second to process his words, once I do it all crashes down. He will starve - of love.

Had it been love?

My love. Is what he had told me.

My heart pulses.

I can't breathe.

I can't move, everything feels wrong and off. But his demeanor changes like the weather in Russia, into something dark, cold and indifferent.

To keep the sting away? Or to reveal his true identity?

'Get out,' his harsh tone shatters my heart in tiny pieces.

I swallow and make the mistake of blinking, a tear falls down my pale cheek.

I am lost for words, knowing they will just fail me. Fail the feeling I am feeling inside. And knowing he can easily see a cracked demeanor; I open the car door.

The cold wind hits me in the face. I take a hold of my bag and before I exit the car; I turn around one more time.

His face looks ever the same, yet something shifted. Making me think he won't be the same anymore as when I met him. If it is possible, he'll be worse. He'll start wars over hurt. So in one thing I finally succeeded, making someone care for me. Then loosing it again.

I ached to touch him, but I didn't.

I want to protest but the words stick in my throat like a bitter pill. His face is pale, drained of color. His eyes are sniffed out, dark. I am not only leaving him behind, I am leaving a part of me behind that he unraveled.

I think his pained face will haunt me more than his darkness ever did.

The unspoken silence between us grows. It was like we both knew, but neither of us can shed their skin.

'Thankyou,' I mumble as my voice breaks ever so slightly.

Aslanov parts his lips, and as we never excisted the way we have, he speaks; 'Do not provoke me again Kotenok.'

I see it then, in the depths of his forest eyes; he means every word.

This is the last time, the last time he'd ever let me go.

Let me go and not chase me.

If he'd find me again, wherever and whenever that would be; he would not stop. He would chase me relentlessly until he got me and then never let me go. Whether that be out of free will or not.

And I wondered if that would bother me. Perhaps the very thought of him not chasing me felt worse.

I tighten my grip on the bag in my hand as he continues, 'run faster than last time.' I gape at him, and as his gaze darkens I step out of the car.

The threat lingers in the air around us, this one scaring me far more than any other. Not because I was scared he would catch me again, but because I knew deep down he would not chase me.

I slam the car door shut behind me, this time I don't look back. I head straight for the aircraft. The lack of screeching tires lets me know he did not drive away, yet. He's watching me enter the plane and right before I head through the door he speeds off.

His black Porsche slowly disappears into the horizon and its darkness. I hold in a sob that wants to escape my lips, and instead I enter; never to look back at Moscow and its dangers.

He will become the man from prison, the criminal I once knew.

A stranger.

With memories.

The wind bites my skin.

Not knowing it was just the beginning of a new chapter, all while his shadow kept looming over me. A chapter filled with darkness, danger, and the possibility of redemption.

With a far more dangerous beginning.

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ENDING BOOK 1 RUSSIAN MADE MEN - DANGEROUS BEGINNINGS