Chapter 2 Nikolai's POV

I raise the hammer and bash it into the right kneecap of the man I had caught going through files in my office five days ago. He should have known better than to think I would leave anything important there. I had dedicated days to watching him but it did not reveal who he was working for, and I normally was not a very patient man, especially when it came to traitors.

While I loved the element of surprise, his time was up.

His scream is muffled by the cloth I had stuffed in his mouth. But I hear the sound of his kneecap crack through his scream I almost flinch. Ouch, that must have hurt.

"We have been here for just a few minutes and I can already guarantee you'd never be able to use your left arm and right leg." I glance towards the mess his left arm has become. Yeah, he definitely won't be using it again. "Now that you understand the consequences of your actions you may speak to me. Who sent you?" I gently tug on the material that had been stopping him from speaking.

"Please... please let me go." He said between weak sobs. Beads of sweat went down his face.

I hear the trickle of water, tilt my head to the ground before glaring at him. "Taking a piss in front of me really isn't going to help your chances."

Then, one of my men walks over to inform me that Irena, my mother, was waiting for me to attend an art exhibition. She has been talking about it for weeks. I could think of a million things I'd rather be doing with my time than strolling around an art gallery, and that included trying to figure out exactly who it was that the Pakhan had ordered me to marry. I decided it was a task that hadn't required my attention, getting married was a simply necessary evil.

Rising to my feet, I wash off the blood on my hands before taking a look at the rest of my outfit, changing would be more appropriate.

I start towards the door "Chain him." I pause before adding. "Call the doctor to have his left arm amputated, if it starts to rot and he dies you'd escort him to hell." I look at one of the soldiers in the room making sure my words sink in before I leave.

Entering into the gallery, I am immediately filled with appreciation for the way the gallery had been arranged. Every section had a different touch of what evil meant with so many shades of red, black and white, even the decor fit the vibe.

Then I see her.

Her eyes are the first things that draw me in and it's like she calls me with them, drawing me in, the same way darkness does. Her straight brown hair completely stays out of her face leaving every inch of it to be free for me to admire. The long black dress she is wearing hugs her form with a slit that exposes her legs as she walks towards us making the silky fabric float around her, revealing her black stilettos and slender legs through a deep slit on the side. Her soft brown hair falls freely on either side of her face and down to her waist. And I discover rather quickly that I can't take my eyes off her .

"My name is Vera, and I'd be your guide for today."

Vera, I repeat in my head tempted to say her name to know what it would feel like on my tongue.

Her lips keep moving but my attention is no longer on what she is saying, just on how her lips are moving. I feel this urge to possess her, make her mine then I am startled back to reality. I do not form attachments with people.

She leads us round the gallery explaining the history of some pieces and the artists' inspiration behind them. My attention drifts to a particular one.

"Who painted this?" She follows my line of sight to look at the painting I'm talking about.

It had two people in it, only both of them seemed dead and alive at the same time hugging each other in their sleep.

She blushes and the pinkish hue on her checks compliments her skin well, and I'm wondering what I could do to make it happen again. "I did."

I feel a surge of pride in my chest and immediately know that I was running mad. "What does it mean?"

"That the very person that you might be holding onto could be the one draining the life out of you." She walks towards the piece a bit, the light in her eyes dull before they show her passion again. "If you look closely the woman is more dead than the man, he's giving up the essence of what it means to live to her." The amount of emotion that enters her voice startles me.

"She's also holding on to him because she wants to live again, even if it means killing the person she claims to love. And he doesn't understand that by holding on to her the only thing that's happening is that he's dying along with her." She glances back at me, there's something beneath her eyes like wonder, but she blinks and it's gone.

"Darkness... is always underneath. What you see here is just the surface, and it's what's hidden that matters. But there's not much of what's hidden that we are actually willing to show other people."

I hear genuine curiosity in Ierna's voice as she asks "So you're saying the violence in your work... represents something personal?"

Vera smiles slightly, but it's strained and I wonder if there's evil within her too. "I'm saying violence is personal to everyone. Whether they admit it or not."

The rest of the tour I can tell my mother is pretty shaken up but she hides it well, she never really liked this vibe.

"I'll be back soon." She excuses herself to the direction of the restroom.

Looking at Vera I say something I definitely shouldn't. "Walk with me." And I turn and head for the door of the gallery ignoring the slightly confused look on her face.

She walks me out and we start to go down the stairs in an easy companionable silence. Being in her presence is peaceful, and I did not normally indulge in human presence, it was normally uncomfortable.

This situation was completely abnormal. So, I let my gaze rake as much of her as I can standing next to her, somewhere along the way, she starts to fall. Instinctively, I reach out to catch her, my hands grab onto her slim waist and I draw her slightly upwards. As she stands we hold our gazes, her brown eyes are regarding me with such intensity that, for a moment, it feels hard to draw breath, she's searching my face for something, then I remember that my mask is still on. She can't see what I look like. Then, I remember why I wear the mask in the first place.

I drop my hand from her waist and take a step back from her before I am sucked further into her.

"Thank you." She averts her gaze away from me and towards the gallery to see my mum heading out. "Your girlfriend is here, I should leave. Thank you for coming." She takes fast strides away

I am shocked, she thinks Irena is my girlfriend? I don't manage to wipe the shock off my face until our car arrives.I adjust my mask to properly fit my face before stepping into the car with my mum. The entire ride back home the air was filled with a pregnant pause and I can tell Irena wants something. The second we get down it takes all of thirty seconds before she finally asks the question that has been clawing its way up her throat.

"I want to try again tonight. I won't be scared to see your face again.."

How was I supposed to tell my mother that I might never be able to let her see my face completely? I have been trying for a long time and failing to forget the first time my mum saw me when I was sixteen, two weeks after I had killed my father. She had a panic attack so bad she passed out because I look exactly like the devil that had raped her when she was twelve.