She looked him in the eyes, his hand around her neck. She wasn't scared, she stopped being scared a long time ago.

He had murder mixed in with his blue eyes. He would give anything to end her life right here, right now and right then.

"You're not the first to put his hands around my neck." She noticed he wasn't tightening his grip.

He saw contempt in her green eyes. He could see she wasn't afraid. How could a woman, a young woman not be afraid? He had his grip around her neck, she wasn't panicking.

She was ready.

His thoughts battled around in his mind. He wanted to kill her, he wanted to be gone of her, but he loved her. He wanted her safe, he wanted to protect her.

He dropped his arm; he looked down at the tiled floor. He felt weak, how could be man if he was torn between love and death? He lowered himself down to his knees, crying for forgiveness.

She looked down at him. She hadn't seen this side of him before. She knew he could kill, she knew he would also throw her under the bus, if needed but this was different.

She crouched down; her fingers under his chin, lifted his face; looking at him in his teary eyes.

"I..." She saw what he was waiting for, she couldn't say it "Don't forgive you." She pulled her hand away before standing up.

He knew what was about to happen, no point begging for mercy. He did this to himself.

She stepped over to the trashed desk before picking up the gun. She turned to face him.

"You honestly should've killed me. You would've been the first. You may have even had my title. But no, you had to go and fuck it all up. I bet all the others are waiting for you. Don't worry, you'll be sent back to them."

He could feel the end of the gun on the back of his head.

She wasn't afraid to do her own dirty work especially when cowards couldn't fulfil their tasks.

Hearing the bang of the gun, watching his body fall flat to the ground. Looking down at the smoking barrel.

She stopped flinching at the sound of the gun when she was six years old, she taught herself to keep a straight face by the time she was ten.

Vera Melana, the daughter of the late Dexter Rivertin.

She held her cards close to her chest, she had to; Daddy raised a solider not a coward.

Many called Vera a cold hearted bitch, but it didn't worry her. Her icy heart didn't need thawing by cowards. 

Vera placed two bouquets of flowers down on the family grave. She knelt down on the end of the cemented graves; she closed her eyes giving a moments silences to the ones that died.

This is why Vera didn't love, she used. Love cost her everything, her brother died when he was an infant, her mother committed suicide after the funeral of her baby brother and her father was shot in the back of his head just as he stepped to the front door of the Melana home when she was sixteen.

Vera opened her eyes before rising to her feet. She carefully stepped up to the headstones before kissing the tops of the stones.

"To here and there but never in pain." She whispered before walking over to the awaiting car.

She looked at the young man leaning against the bonnet of the black SUV "What have I said about leaning against the car, Tommy?" She pulled open the car door of the back seat.

"Sorry, V." Tommy was the same age as Vera. The two of them had enough history between them that many believed Vera and Tommy were dating, neither of them confirmed nor denied the rumours instead they carried up appearances for their family's safety.

"Did you contact Poet?" Vera asked as she climbed into the backseat.

"Yes."

"And?" Vera looked at him as she pushed down the window button before closing the door.

"Bagged and shipped back." Tommy said before climbing into the passenger seat of the car.

"Good. Hopefully, those fuckers get the message." Vera leaned back in her seat.

"Where too, V?" asked the driver; Tony, was a man in his early forties. He treated Vera as his own daughter.

Tony had lost his family in a house fire, his wife and their three children; Vera had accidentally come across Tony when they were both in hospital, she was getting stitches in her shoulder when she saw him crying in the hallway of the hospital. She listened to his story, offered him some money to help rebuild any part of his life than gave him a phone number to contact her and said anything you need. Several weeks later, Tony began working as Vera's driver and that was five years ago.

Vera looked out to the family graves "Home."