●▬▬▬▬๑๑▬▬▬▬●

"Please," I pleaded. "Don't start a war over me."

A wicked smile crossed his face, and deadly promises evident in his eyes. Gone was the sweet man who had once set my heart and body on fire with his sultry whispers, replaced by a figure who had all of Moscow cowering beneath his icy gaze.

I could barely recognize this man anymore.

Then again, perhaps I had never truly known him at all.

There was a taste of darkness in his voice as he uttered, "You are the war, moya Bella," The smile remained, as sinister as sin. "And I'm going to win you."

At that very moment, I realized I had unleashed hell in Moscow, and I would have to deal with its fire.

_____