Hi!

THANKS SO MUCH FOR ALL THE REVIEWS AND THE STORY ALERTS AND THE FAVORITES!

I'm sorry I update so slow but it's really hard for me to find time to write. I am only fourteen years old and I have a lot of stuff coming up in school so I have to study a lot.

This isn't so much but this is at least something for now. I do not really know what do to with the story because I have so many ideas and I can't decide.

Btw… I don't own Alex and Yassen even if they are very different from the books and the movie.

I run out of the suite and run as fast as I can towards the elevator. The fear makes my heart beat like a drum and I can't get the image of the man lying on the floor and Yassen's cold eyes staring back at me out of my head. The eyes are what scare me the most. There was no life in them, not a hint of any emotion. No regret, no remorse just nothing.

Before I can reach the elevator doors someone suddenly shoves me against the wall and presses a hand over my mouth so my surprised shriek never leaves my lips. I can feel that it is him, the murderer, the coldblooded man I am running from. I try to jerk away from him but that I can't move an inch.

''I thought I made myself clear enough before, but obviously I didn't. You will do as I say or there'll be consequences,'' Yassen says in a smooth and dangerous tone that sends a jolt of fear down my spine. Then he lets go of me.

He turns around and walks into the suite again and I follow, too scared to protest or try anything. As soon as we are inside Yassen locks the door after hanging a ''Do not disturb'' sign on the handle. Then he starts to examine the two bodies.

I walk across the room and into the bedroom where I climb up onto the oversized bed. I start to look in my pockets for the key chain that I got from MI6 to send emergency signals to them with but it's gone. I still see Yassen's cold eyes in my head and I feel tears start to burn in my eyes. I sob silently and the tears start to roll down my cheeks. I feel afraid and alone.

When a hand suddenly touches my arm I throw myself off the bed and jump into a position ready to defend myself, still with tears streaming from my eyes.

On the other side of the bed Yassen stands, still with his hand reaching for me. I gather my courage and look up to meet his gaze. Now there seems to be a small hint of emotion in his eyes that could almost be affection, and he has a soft expression on his face. I relax a little, but then remember the image of the cold eyes I saw only minutes ago and the dead serious promise to hurt me if I tried anything, and I shiver. I tighten my muscles and back away from the bed, still ready to defend myself even though I know the Russian has better fighting skills than me and probably a lot of hidden weapons in addition to the gun in his waistband.

''You are afraid of me,'' he states and gives me one long analytical stare. ''You have no reason to be, as long as you do not disobey me,'' he says, and I realize that he thinks I'm afraid of him killing me.

''I'm only afraid of becoming like you.'' I say it even though I know it's a lie. I may not be afraid of death but the prospect of pain is something that scares me.

Yassen looks at me with an unreadable expression, and then his face becomes an emotionless mask again. He opens his mouth to say something, but then changes his mind and shuts it again. He gives me one last glance and before he walks out of the room and slams the door shut behind him.

I crawl up onto the bed again and curl into a small ball. I hear Yassen move around in the other room and I hear him talk, probably on the phone, with someone and then I hear him throw away the phone.

Seconds later, the door silently opens and Yassen steps inside. I sit up and watch him carefully as he walks over to me with soundless steps. He sits down on the bed beside me and looks at me. I gasp when I see the expression on his face, unprepared for what I see.

There is a sudden storm of emotions in his eyes that surprises and frightens me. There is only pain, anger and darkness in them and it's hard to meet his gaze because it's like a portal into his personal hell. His whole face is twisted in pain and I suddenly understand how little pain and darkness I've seen in this world. I've seen pain and death but I've always seen happiness and joy too, whereas this man has never seen anything other than darkness. I wonder what it is that's breaking through his otherwise so impenetrable barrier around his thoughts.

I feel the urge to comfort him and wish I could take his pain away. Even if he killed my uncle and has killed hundreds of people, no one deserves that kind of pain. I do the only thing I can think of that might help him. I carefully put one of my hands on the side of his face without breaking his gaze and then I lean closer to him. His eyes widen a little bit when my lips are only millimetres from his as he realize my intention.