This gift, this blessing of love you willingly supplied him, was a miracle from God himself.

But he demolished it—demolished everything you two had created in secrecy over the past years.

At the helm of his gang was his father, a man infamous for his ruthlessness and unforgiving nature. He spared no mercy for those who betrayed him, so finding out that his son was in love with the successor of their rival gang only fortified this reputation.

Dimitri found himself in agonizing torment, torn between the choice of harming you or endangering your entire gang. He could not imagine the intense love you once felt for him to alter so drastically to absolute disdain. But he could not bear the image of your dull, cold body cradled in his arms.

Before he knew it, he was stationed before your gang’s area, screams of terror and scarlet lining his vision. He absolutely despised it—how his hands immediately knew what to do, as if the skill was streaming through his blood.

But he especially loathed the way you stood by the body of your cousin, dead eyes glaring straight at him. Not your cousin’s eyes, but yours.

That day, he lost the one thing that provided him with stability in this world. That day, you were sent to America.

It had been three years and five months since Dimitri last experienced the comfort of your presence. During this time, he had been forced to survive solely on the faint, distant memories of when you both were blissfully ignorant fools. 

Dimitri’s yearning for you was a relentless ache—an ache that longed desperately for your entire being to engulf him in your reality once more. You were his everything.

And there his everything stood, surrounded by five lifeless bodies, dead by his hand in an instant. They were his men.

“That was not necessary,” gone was the warmth in your voice. The lips Dimitri had kissed countless times, expressing pure, endless love, now had venom leaking through like crimson.

“I was only welcoming you back," Dimitri jested, albeit you weren't in the mood for humour.