✾Brief Author's Note✾

My female MC's 11 years old in this chapter. Happy reading!

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Eight years ago...

I was seething.

Perhaps that's why I did what I did next.

I killed him.

Someone snorted beside me. "Fantasising about killing him again, Emily?"

I sighed, squinting against the glare of the noonday sun as I shifted on the springy grass so that I was facing my best friend, Luna D'Agosto. "As if," I denied with a huff, "I haven't thought about him since... since. He doesn't deserve a mental killing from me--because that'd be me thinking about him."

I thought about him always.

So far, I've killed him five hundred times.

Mentally, of course.

Luna released a short laugh. "Whatever you say, Em." She sounded unbelieving.

My eyes narrowed on her, then faced the object of my homicidal thoughts.

Vasili.

I and my family had recently relocated from Miami to Russia two months ago. They'd said it was safer here. Weird.

Anyways, I didn't question their decision because it'd have been left unanswered. I supposed it had something to do with 'territories'. I had heard my father say that much over the phone concerning our moving to Russia.

And so far, I was trying my best to adjust to the new environment.

But someone just had to be a dignified obstacle in my progress.

The obstacle was currently sitting by himself, alone. Giving off the impression he was a quiet, unassuming angel.

Wrong.

He was a... what was the word again. Yes, he was a dyavlo. A huge one.

His glacier blue eyes met mine and I sucked in a sharp breath, cursing myself for reacting in anyway to the little twerp.

His face, which had previously been frozen in a countenance of humility and boredom, now contorted into a devilish expression.

His eyes glinted with mischief, and a promise of so many hair pullings and deliberate trippings to come.

Mine glinted, too, with a promise of many face smashings to come.

We had begun a silent game, and it seemed to have two singular rules. Whoever cried off first or tattled on the other for bullying was the loser.

I hated loosing.

And so did he, l was coming to realize.

But, we had been at this game for two months, and it had started to wear on me. So I was going to do the next best thing; back out.

I wasn't crying off, mind you. After all, all was fair in love and war.

Not that I... loved him or anything.

Ew.

As Luna stood to go over to her mother I sucked in a slow breath. This was my chance.

I stomped my way across the field in the open park and over to the stone bench he sat on.

"It's over," I declared once I came to stand before him.

His hand slowly went up to his chest, an amused smile playing on his lips. "You don't say," he began, imitating my accent. "How am I supposed to live knowing w--"

"Shut it!" I snapped, his brows rose. "I'm not playing your stupid game anymore."

Something dark dawned in his eyes and a slow smile stretched his lips to the side. "Oh, Marena," he said lowly, his stupid Russian accent thick, "you do not simply stop playing a game, especially when it is mine. You either win. Or loose."

I glowered at him, wanting so badly to wipe the smirk off his face. Using my elbow.

But none of those things happened. Because months later, his brother did.

I hadn't even known he had one. . . until he was murdered.

It was rumored my father had been responsible.