A gift for the Angel of Death

The Viper

I stared at the pictures in my hands for several seconds before tossing them off, sending them flying across the floor.

“Does Curtis Arciero have a golden dick or something?” I growled. I wasn’t asking anyone in particular but I got an answer from Enzo anyway.

“Would you like me to find out?”

I glared at him. He was my right hand man but sometimes he forgot his place and assumed he was my equal. This was the problem with having the same minions for years.

He picked up the pictures and inspected them even though he was the one who had brought them. “Do you think she likes him?”

I sneered. I knew that look. I had seen it on several women’s faces.

Women were only useful before some knight in shining armor swept them off their feet with false promises of rainbows and unicorns. Then they became a liability.

It was why I had chosen a vengeful eighteen-year-old with enough hate to override every other emotion and made sure she remained that way for the four years I kept her