Chapter 3 Hatred That Burns Bright

Tesiera was in the grip of a nightmare, her face twisted in a grimace as she thrashed about on her bed, mumbling incoherent sounds. This was a common occurrence for her and one that she found deeply frightening. The dream always started the same way, with memories of the happy times she shared with her father–the joy, laughter, and thrill of their father-daughter bond.

She could hear her father's genuine, hearty laugh-a laugh that seemed to stem from deep within him-and she would smile. He was always in good spirits and his happiness was contagious. But as the dream progressed, that laugh slowly transform into pained screams, the sounds he made as he was murdered.

Tesiera was forced to relive the final moments of her father's life-the moment the doctor closed his eyes and covered him with a sheet-and with that moment, she felt like she lost her own humanity. All the pain, sadness, and agony would come flooding back and she would scream, until everything faded away.

She woke up with a jolt, tears streaming down her face and her breathing heavy. The wound was freshly opened again, just like it was every night. Her finger rose to her cheek, and she collected a single tear, scowling at the liquid.

Her chest hurt. it hurt badly.

This was one of those times the nightmares made her past so fresh on her mind, her pain so great like the years had been wiped away, and it was all happening all over again.

Without hesitation, she reached under her pillow, withdrew her pocket dagger, pressed it to her thigh, and cut a clean line atop one of the thin scars from similar cuts she'd made in the past.

A calmness settled over her heart as she washed the blood spill out of the wound and drip down her thigh. The pain was almost delicious, especially because it numbed the one that came from her nightmares. Physical pain she could deal with; emotional pain...not so much.

With a sigh, she got up from her bed and went to the window, staring out into the rain-soaked night. The stars had vanished from the sky and the moon shone exceptionally bright.

As she looked out into the night, she remembered the girl she once was-the girl who screamed in terror-and she felt disgust and anger. Screaming was a sign of weakness, and she hated being trapped in her nightmare doing just that. For twenty years, she channeled her pain into strength until she was almost unbeatable. A torture machine, as most people in the dark world called her.

For ten years she had searched for her father's killers. It was hard since she only had their faces on her mind as the only lead on those four people, but when she wasn't torturing people, she dedicated her entire life to finding those murderers. Five years ago, she finally made a breakthrough and found their leader, Jaden Newman.

He was a crime boss in the dark world, and most of his wealth came from human trafficking-selling women. Her eyes closed as she remembered Miselle.

Miselle had been her only friend for ten years and she knew everything about Tesiera. Miselle was helping her to gather information about her father's killers; she was the one who got the only information they have on Jaden Newman. But when Miselle had gone to dig deeper, she was murdered and her body washed up a shore in Bahamas.

Tesiera was almost sure that Jaden Newman was the one who killed her only friend, just like he'd killed her father. Well, he ordered, and the teenager pulled the trigger. Without hesitation.

She never forgot that part. Or the look of utter enjoyment on the teenager's face as he pulled the trigger.

They will all pay. Every last one of them.

Just as she was about to head to her gym room downstairs, her cellphone rang. The caller ID showed "Big Cat".

The man who raised her. Her Uncle Damian but well-known as Big Cat in the dark world. When he got the news of what happened to her father, she'd already been taken by social services and placed in a foster home. He found her two years later and took her under his care. By then, she'd been from one foster home after another. Horrible experiences, all of them.

Big Cat was a very dangerous and powerful mafia lord, and he rarely called at night, which made her wonder why he would be calling her this late.

"Hello?" she answered.

"Siera, can you come to the mansion right now? It's urgent."

She was instantly alert. "Is everything alright?"

"I'll tell you when you get here," his voice came through before the line went dead. She stared at the phone blankly for a moment before putting it down and walking away from the window.

She opened her closet filled with lined-up black leather outfits, picked out the pants she wanted, and dressed within minutes. Then she closed the wardrobe and opened a bigger closet beside it, staring at her variety of weapons and countless torture devices.

If Big Cat said it was urgent, then weapons may come in handy. Plus, she never went anywhere without arming herself. So, she withdrew the newest of her gun collection-the Korth Combat revolver. She smirked as she loaded the gun with bullets and strapped it to the leather that was tied to her arm.

What could be so urgent?

Pulling her hair up into a bun, she stalked out of her home like a soldier on a mission.

*****************

Tesiera walked into Big Cat's mansion. She had been there countless times, and the interior, which was luxuriously decorated with gold, didn't faze her anymore. The mansion was heavily guarded, with high level security so vast that it was even complicated for someone like her.

As she approached the fourth floor, which was Big Cat's main domain, she reluctantly surrendered her weapons at the floor's security checkpoint. It was a rule that every single person who entered the mansion must obey. She was an exception when it came to carrying weapons around the other floors, but no one bends the rules on the fourth floor.

The guards bowed their heads and gave way for her to pass without questions. Having known where Big Cat would be this time of the night, she walked straight to the training room. The big lion painting at the end of the hallway brought back memories. It was always her best painting in the numerous paintings scattered in all parts of this mansion. She'd lived there for six years, since she was eleven.

Most of the trainings she got to be what she was today, she learned from the three best fighters from each field. The three instructors that taught her how to handle throwing knives were the best. As for guns, she learned from Big Cat himself. The mafia godfather is very lethal when it came to guns; his business associates feared him and had good reasons to.

At the door of the training room, she leaned on the door frame and watched Big Cat spar with one of his men in a hand-to-hand combat. She watched how swiftly he moved and the sneaky ways he delivered those punches. The man might be in his late fifties, but he didn't look it-he was well-built without an ounce of fat. You'd only guess his age when you saw his once black hair, now a mixture of black and gray.

Big Cat lifted his opponent and threw him on the ground. The few other men watching clapped and cheered. That was when Big Cat saw her. She waved at him reluctantly and he gave her a smile.

"You're here, Siera?" he asked audibly, stepping out of the ring, taking the towel that was offered to him and wiping his sweaty face and neck.

"I am," she responded, walking deeper into the room.

"Let's call it a night. Everybody, leave," he directed to his men before turning back to her again. "I'm sorry for calling you out here so late at night. I know you had a stressful day today. How was your mission?" He began walking toward the door, and she fell into step with him.

"It went well."

"As always. Let's take a walk, shall we?" Big Cat offered, and she nodded, following after him.

He led the way out of the fourth floor down to the second floor and took her to the terrace. They leaned on the railings. The gentle night breeze was blowing and the near-midnight sky was illuminated with stars.

"I heard your scores. Your story is being told in every corner of the dark world. All your missions always came out a success," he said, pride in his eyes. She shrugged. "You make me so proud, Tesiera."

She remained silent, just staring out into the night. Never much of a talker; Big Cat knew that. His eyes surveyed her carefully. She was a beautiful woman but as lethal as Tsar Bomba-the most destructive bomb ever made.

"You like it? The serenity of the night and how calm the city looks despite the fact that there's always danger looming around the corner, and people are oblivious about it," Big Cat expressed, but all Tesiera did was nod. He wished she would at least try to converse with people more-he had been trying to make that happen since she was brought under his care-but she never saw the need to get chatty.

But what he was about to tell her tonight would definitely drag words out of her mouth. "How have you been, Siera? Any serious man in your life yet?"

"No."

Big Cat sighed heavily. Sometimes, he felt a prickle of guilt about the way she turned out. Tesiera had no social life and zero social skills. All she knew was the dark world. She was the only family he had left and the child he never had. Good thing, too, because apparently his parenting skills lacked in so many ways.

"You said you had information for me." She pulled away from the rails and stared at him.

"I found what you've been looking for." A pause. "Or Who."

Her brown eyes darkened. "Which of them?"

"The Teenager."

The target that had eluded her for ten good years. She'd combed every nook and cranny for information-anything at all-on that bastard but she came away with nothing. The beginning was the hardest; their faces were the only thing she had on them.

"Finally." Her fists clenched on her sides. "Finally," she repeated in a whisper.

Big Cat smiled. "Let's go to the information room, shall we?"

"Yes, please." She allowed him to lead the way, following closely behind him. Emotions she was familiar with flooded her: pain and age-old fury. The Teenager's face flashed in her mind; it was the usual visual. His face as he pointed the gun to her father's forehead and took the shot without hesitation. Those gray eyes that glistened in twisted happiness as he shifted the gun and pointed it to her own face.

Big Cat and Tesiera took an elevator down to the consulting room, and when they entered, he gestured for Tesiera to take a seat. He then switched on the television, and a clip prompted on the screen. He lifted the remote control and hit the 'play' button. An image popped up on the screen, and Big Cat smiled in satisfaction. "There he is."

For a full second, Tesiera was taken aback by how handsome he was. Over the years, she had made up a lot of images of what The Teenager would look like as an adult, and not one of those times did she envision him to look like...this.

"His name is Kracusian Kingston, but he was mostly known as Kracus. This profile is an intriguing one," Big Cat began. "He is a thirty-seven-year-old multimillionaire who owns several hotels spread out all over the States and beyond, but he is also a successful Neurosurgeon at MedStone Hospital, one of the most prestigious hospitals here in the States. He has won several award in the medical field as the best brain surgeon, and at such a young age, he has risen to the position of Chief of Surgery."

Tesiera couldn't tear her eyes away from those gray eyes. Those very familiar gray eyes she saw in her nightmares almost every night. The man who murdered her father right in front of her in cold blood was a fucking doctor? The man who put a bullet through her father's brain was a freaking brain doctor?

"So, he's a doctor and he owns a hotel?" she asked at last when she could finally get her throat to work.

"Chains of hotels," the mafia godfather corrected. "He has so many of them, spread across the country and way beyond. He's fucking loaded and he's a public figure too. The image he shows the world says he can do no wrong. The world loves him. According to our Intel, he pursued his dream of being a doctor after his father-who had always wanted him to take over the family business-died. Now he has capable hands handling his businesses while he went back to pursuing his dreams. But all those hotel managers and executives answer to Kracusian Kingston. He's the big boss."

Kracusian Kingston. She rolled the name through her head, hating the motherfucker's name as much as she hated the man. Her brows arched. "With all that money, he's a doctor? He made himself an easy target to his enemies; it's a surprise he's still alive."

"There's a reason for that. Although Kracus Kingston doesn't move around with paparazzi and entourage, he has two shadows that are always looking out for him, protecting him. According to reports, those two men are highly skilled in all kinds of combat; they've won both the black belt in fighting and the silver belt. Dangerous men that are very good with knives and guns. They have killed every threat that ever surfaced in Kracus Kingston's life. We couldn't get much information about them apart from their names: Bose and Clinton. Apart from that, they are almost like ghosts that don't exist. "

Interesting. Teisiera's eyes went back to the clip, which had started to replay for the second time. She noted the way her target smiled and the way he received the award like a man of dignity and integrity. Like he couldn't hurt a fly and would rather go to the ends of the world to save it. A cold-blooded murderer who killed a man over a locket and pointed a gun at his eight-year-old.

"Is that everything we've got?" she asked.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. The Kingstons might be public figures, but they managed to keep their lives away from public eyes. That's all we could get for now."

"It'll do," Tesiera simply said. For the first time in a long time, an unfamiliar feeling surfaced in her. Impatience.

She was well-known in the dark world for her patience. She could torture her victims for days if that was what it could to get what she needed from them. And she could stayed holed up in a mountain for weeks, tailing her victims. But now that she knew the face of the fucker who killed her father, all she wanted was to go to where he was and plunge a knife deep into his chest.

Her hands itched for blood-his blood. Her fingers tingled to pull the trigger and blow out his brains, and her ears ached to hear his dying screams and bask in victorious revenge.

Taking a deep, unsatisfying breath, she asked. "Where does he live?"

Big Cat studied her face carefully, then he turned around and picked up a folder from the television rack and stretched it out towards her. "All the information you need is in this file."

Teisiera rose from her chair and collected the file. "Thank you so much for this."

"You've had a long day; it's better you go back home and rest. I know you've waited your whole life for this, but I don't want you to make any rash moves. Think about your next step before you take it, Tesiera. If those two guards he has shadowing him protected the man enough to keep him alive for so long, they must be so damn good at it. Be careful. If you need anything, let me know."

"Thank you," she said.

He smiled at her again, then she left the consulting room and took the elevator to the last floor, leaving the mansion.

She held the folder in her arms tightly. For the first time in a very long time, Tesiera could feel the emotion that could be easily identified as happiness. A hint of a smile played on the sides of her lips.

With this, she would carefully draft out a good plan to make this bastard pay for what he did. He was her new prey.

I'm coming for you, Kracusian Kingston.