Chapter 2
The tightly pressed lips finally parted with a soft ‘pop’. At that, one side of her cheek lost its dimple.
“It’s a tear gas gun. Contains tear gas.”
Ignoring the dimpled comment, Anya’s answer of a tear gas gun caused a subtle smirk to play on Father Leo’s lips.
“Tear gas,” he repeated thoughtfully.
Upon seeing her cheek lose its dimple, he felt a slight regret. If she smiled fully, her dimples might be deep enough to press a finger into. With that thought, Father Leo smiled and continued.
“It seems you’re quite used to visiting. As a priest, it would be good to remember your name.”
Anya immediately understood the underlying message behind his indirect words.
“Anya.”
She had never revealed her real name to anyone asking. The people who asked for her name were either targets she deliberately approached or those who were drawn to her appearance, so sharing her real name wasn’t necessary.
But this time was different. The sudden appearance of a priest exuding a strange sense of authority. To confirm his identity, Anya deliberately uttered her real name.
If there was even a hint of hesitation, she needed to be wary. Someone could be sent to take her life.
If he was a killer, he wouldn’t expect her to reveal her real name. Revealing it would make him hesitate.
Anya’s gaze locked onto Father Leo’s unwavering eyes, ready to detect any sign of hesitation.
“Anya.”
The name, softly spoken, was as steady as his gaze. Father Leo’s lips curved smoothly as he continued.
“Such a lovely name.”
Anya’s lips naturally tightened into a straight line. After giving away her real name, there was nothing to gain. Instead, he calmly held a cross necklace that hung over his chest.
“If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to offer a prayer for you, Anya.”
Prayer? Before she could respond, he extended his hand.
“Excuse me.”
The fingers gently enveloped her thumb and index finger, then swiftly held her entire hand.
“For a moment,”
Just as Anya was about to pull away from his grasp, she froze upon seeing him close his eyes.
“God please bless her.”
Father Leo began his prayer earnestly, looking every bit the genuine priest. For that moment, Anya couldn’t pull away her hand as his palm held hers tightly.
“Just as you extend kindness to all living things, and offer peace…”
The worn stained-glass windows let in a sliver of moonlight, casting a serene glow upon his head. The light reflected beautifully off him. Anya, unable to look away, stared at the peaceful priest.
“May you extend that kindness to Anya as well.”
He continued his prayer, yet Anya was caught in her own thoughts, unable to hear his words clearly. The overwhelming emotions resurfaced, giving her a sense of clarity and purification. It felt as though she had encountered a savior.
“Amen.”
The prayer concluded. However, Anya remained unaware of the end, her gaze locked onto the priest as her hand still rested within his.
Her eyelids slowly lifted. The reddish-orange eyes met her own.
In a frozen moment, it was Leo who broke the silence first.
“The prayer is over, Anya.”
Only then did she snap out of her trance, pulling her hand away. Taking a step back, she spoke.
“Thank you for the prayer. I should be leaving now.”
After a brief nod, she turned without a second thought.
“Anya.”
Leo’s voice called softly as she turned her head slightly to look at him. He smiled warmly.
“Feel free to visit anytime. I’ll be here, waiting.”
Anya didn’t respond. She silently walked toward the door, leaving him standing in the dimly lit, still space. The door creaked shut behind her.
Creeeak
The firmly closed door opened, revealing Anya stepping into the room. Still unmoving from his spot, Valery flinched slightly at her presence.
“Anya.”
She was late today. She typically visited the church once every two days, and her visits were brief—lasting anywhere from five minutes to thirty at most. Valery glanced at the wristwatch strapped to his arm.
“About an hour has passed,” he said.
An hour? It had felt more like just ten minutes. Naturally, Valery was concerned.
“The priest offered a blessing, so I stayed to receive it,” Anya explained.
Valery’s gaze shifted to the church behind her. He knew of the old priest. He had seen him a few times before. After a brief moment of staring at the church, Valery nodded.
“Anya, let’s go. The night air is cold.”
“Okay.”
She climbed into the car, her gaze fixated on the window. Specifically, she was staring beyond the window at the church.
Father Leo.
Unconsciously, the image of the priest praying while holding her hand popped into her mind. A priest.
“Let’s go,” Anya said with a quick head-turn.
A priest. Even after considering it again, the title didn’t fit him at all.
***
A man with a dangling crucifix necklace removed it with one hand, casually tossing it onto the couch. He then discarded his black priest’s robe onto the seat beside it.
Standing in perfect naked form, the man smirked.
“Anya.”
Unlike the cute name, the woman had drawn a gun. And he knew very well what kind of gun it was.
A self-defense gun.
The MP-446, made in Russia, was a weapon frequently used by mafias, and his father had directly funded its development. A sneer escaped through his lips.
Ivan Abramovich—that was his name. His father was the boss of the infamous Abramovich Bratva, Oleg Abramovich.
In Russia, the Red Mafia was referred to as Bratva. Abramovich Bratva was the largest mafia organization in Russia, profiting from intelligence networks, trade, finance, weapon smuggling, and hacking.
Despite being the boss of such a colossal organization, Oleg exhibited some flexibility and morality. On the other hand, Ivan’s personality was exceptionally ruthless and uncompromising. A cold-blooded genius with no room for errors. This is why people feared him, but he also excelled at concealing his true nature. It was thanks to this ability that he could perform acts like this.
His amber eyes, tinted with red, locked onto the crucifix and priest’s robe thrown carelessly on the sofa.
“Anya. It’s Anya.”
When saying her name, the way his lips parted to reveal his red tongue felt incredibly sensual. Why such a feeling stirred within him over a mere body?
“Quite a face that provokes.”
Yes, it was those eyes. Those murky black eyes. He wanted to see emotion flicker in those void-like pupils. Additionally, the one cheek sunk deeply, giving the impression of wanting to press a tongue into it—until the hole was worn through.
The feeling of blood rushing surged within him.
Anya. The adopted daughter of Chechen mafia boss Denis Malikov.
Simple adoption would not have been an issue, but with Anya, it was different. Her seductive tactics had ensnared several members of the Abramovich Bratva.
Ignoring the dirty deeds done by Chechen mafias, Ivan had once turned a blind eye. However, now that they were seriously challenging his throne, Oleg, the boss, could no longer tolerate it.
Ivan, who had been silent up until now, finally began moving when Oleg issued the directive.
First, deal with ‘Anya.’
So, it had to be done. Neatly.
Ivan Abramovich, the most formidable killer among the mafias. And as notorious as his reputation was, his specialty was blending in, dismantling a target’s defenses, toying with them, and then brutally eliminating them.
