11. Confessions in the Rain
Confessions in the Rain
Havoc
The storm loomed around us, the waves growing more insistent as the darkness deepened.
Onyx's story lingered in the air, her voice still echoing in my mind as we clung to each other for warmth.
The rain started to pick up, light droplets that soon turned into a steady drizzle, mixing with the cold wind and soaking into our souls.
Yet, Onyx looked up at me, waiting for my response, her eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and something else—an emotion I couldn't quite place.
Trust, perhaps?
It had been so long since I'd felt the need to share my past with anyone, let alone someone I’d only recently met under such dire circumstances.
But something about this moment, this night, compelled me to open up.
A part of me resisted. In my line of work, confessions were a luxury, a weakness. Yet, here in the middle of the vast, indifferent ocean, with death a real possibility, the philosophical conflict of whether to confess or not tore at me.
Could I afford to trust her?
Did it even matter now, in the face of possible doom?
It doesn’t.
I took a deep breath, the rain chilling my skin but also providing a strange sense of clarity. “You really want to know about me?”
Onyx nodded, her dreadlocks brushing against my chin as she nestled closer, seeking both warmth and possibly. . .answers.
“Alright,” I began, my voice low and steady, “but you might regret asking.”
She chuckled softly, the sound almost lost in the patter of rain. “I doubt it.”
I sighed, the memories surfacing, each one more painful than the last. “I grew up in a rough neighborhood. Violence was the norm, and you either adapted or you didn’t survive. My parents were both addicts. I had to fend for myself from a young age.”
“No brothers or sisters?”
“None.”
My voice became rough with emotion, “Still. . .when I was a kid, I wanted to be an astronaut.”
She chuckled. “Really?”
“Yeah. I was obsessed with the stars, with space. Had wrinkled posters of the moon and planets all over my room. I used to dream about leaving Earth behind and discovering new worlds.”
“What happened?”
I took a deep breath, the old recollection grew vivid in my head as if it had happened yesterday. “When I was ten, my mom killed my dad. Right in front of me. She caught him cheating. . .brought it up at the table during Thanksgiving. . .all of my dysfunctional family had been there. . .even grandma was high.”
Onyx stiffened under me.
“He. . .uh. . .started gaslighting her. . .which is what he would do all the time, I just didn’t understand that until I got older, but. . .she just had enough. . .grabbed the butcher knife from the turkey and stabbed him. Everyone screamed, including her sister. . .my aunt. . .who was the woman he’d been cheating with.”
“Oh shit.”
“Yeah. . .I don’t celebrate Thanksgiving. Never have. . .never will. . .”
“I can see why you wouldn’t.”
“It was brutal. . .” I did my best to push it out of my mind, but still the visions came.
The blood pooling on the floor.
The look of desperation and fear in my mother's eyes.
“I was never the same after that. The State gave me to my aunt. I never got to see my mother again. . .who eventually died in jail a year later. And I just. . . shut down, all my teenage years, becoming angry and resentful. I got into trouble, fell in with the wrong crowd.”
Onyx listened intently.
“By the time I was fifteen, I was running with a gang. They taught me how to fight, how to kill. It became my life. The adrenaline, the power—it was addicting. I did things. . .terrible things, just to survive, to prove myself.” I opened my eyes taking in the expanse of dark ocean around us. “Then, I got in trouble. Went to jail. A counselor on the inside worked with me.”
“How long were you in jail?”
“Five years.”
The rain caused ripples on the surface, falling harder, as if mirroring the turmoil inside me. “When I got out of jail, I joined the military, hoping to find a purpose, a way to channel my anger. I excelled, but the violence never left me.”
“I bet the government liked that.”
“Killing for America got me many awards, so yes, they loved it.”
“How long did you stay in?”
“Six years. Then, after my service, I was recruited into a covert ops unit. We did the dirty work no one else would touch. It was there that I truly learned to kill without hesitation, to bury my emotions deep.” I paused, the memories of those missions, the bloodshed, flashing before my eyes. “When that unit disbanded, I found myself adrift, consumed by anger and loss. That was when an old contact reached out, offering me a way to use my skills.”
“And that’s how you became Havoc, the assassin?”
“It was easier to live as a weapon than face the emptiness inside.”
Onyx’s breath warmed my neck as she whispered, “A weapon. I understand more than you know.”
“You would.” It felt good to talk to her. Darkness had been my companion for so long.
The rain was pouring now, warm drops slipped down my skin, but I didn’t care.
For the first time in years, I felt a connection with someone.
We clung to each other as the rain fell harder, our bodies shivering but our spirits entwined.
I’d buried all dreams of being an astronaut, buried any hope of a normal life. I became a killer because it was all I knew how to be.
It was all I believed I was truly good at.
Now what? This is how I die? Was it all worth it?
The rain battered down on us, the rhythmic patter blending with the lapping waves, creating a haunting symphony that matched the storm within my head. Onyx’s warmth was the only thing keeping the cold at bay, her presence a fragile lighthouse in the unending night.
Her story had opened wounds long sealed, but sharing my own had somehow brought a semblance of peace.
She shifted slightly, her voice cutting through the rain. “Havoc, there’s something I need to know.”
“Yes?”
“Why do you have a $30 million dollar bounty on your head, in the first place?”
The question hung in the air, heavy and loaded with implications. I could feel her eyes on me, searching for the truth beneath the emotional scars.
I took a deep breath, the rain chilling my skin but my resolve hardening. “It started with a mission.”
“What mission?”
“I was contracted to take out a high-profile target—a billionaire named Varon Reznov. He was a ruthless man, involved in human trafficking, drug smuggling, arms dealing. The kind of man who thought he was untouchable.”
“Why was he targeted?”
“Reznov had enemies, powerful ones. People who wanted him gone but couldn’t get close enough. That’s where I came in. I was given all the intel, the security details, his scent, everything I needed to plan the perfect hit.”
She looked up. “Did you just say. . .his scent?”
“Yes.”
“You. . .could track him. . .through his scent?”
“I can.”
She blinked. Raindrops stuck to her eyelids. “Are you fucking with me?”
“We are in a raft, lost somewhere out in the Pacific ocean. Why would I lie?”
She parted her lips.
“Anyway. . .what they didn’t tell me was that Reznov had a fifteen year old daughter named Natalia.”
“Why did that matter?”
“I was supposed to infiltrate his mansion during one of his infamous sex parties, blend in with the guests, and take him out quietly. Everything was going according to plan until I saw her. Natalia.” I closed my eyes, the memory of her face vivid in my mind. “She was young. Innocent. I don’t know. Big eyes like a little kitten or puppy. And she was in danger.”
“How?”
“Reznov was planning to use her as leverage in one of his deals, essentially selling her virginity to a rival crime lord.”
“Shit.”
“When I found out, something in me snapped. And I don’t know why. I’d seen. . .a lot. . .things with children, animals, horrific things, but. . .” I gazed out at the ocean. “Maybe, I just had enough of all the terror and disgusting things.”
“What did you do?”
“I deviated from the plan. Instead of just taking out Reznov, I decided to save Natalia. It was risky, and it turned the mission into a bloodbath. I fought my way through his guards, killed Reznov, and took Natalia with me. But she wasn’t just a victim—she had secrets of her own. She knew too much about her father’s operations and the people involved. For my boss, she was now a target too. He ordered me to kill her. I refused.”
Onyx widened her eyes. “What happened when you refused?”
“He sent assassins after me, and so. . .after giving her a secret identity and making sure she was safe, I killed those assassins and then paid my boss a visit, woke him up in the middle of the night.”
“You were pissed.”
“Very much so, but assassins can never kill their bosses. It is the easiest way to have all other bosses uniting to kill you. It’s all about loyalty. Assassins are supposed to stay in line and know their limits.”
“Then, you went on the run, killing everyone that came after you.”
“I did.”
“How many assassins have you killed since being on the run?”
“Thirty-five.”
“All men?”
“Three women.”
She blinked.
“Two came to my bed as prostitutes. The other tried to get me in my sleep.” I studied her. “But you chose a different approach.”
“I’ve never used sex to lure my kills.”
“You should have. You’re fucking breathtaking.” I stared at her, the storm raging around us, the boat rocking beneath us.
In silence, she watched me too, never letting any emotion to what I had just said show in her eyes.
“If I die on this raft, Onyx. . .I’ve decided that it would be fine, if you’re next to me.”
She parted those full lips, but did not speak.
But she didn’t have to.
I’d already made my decision.
Too bad we don’t have more time.
Slowly, I leaned in, capturing her lips with mine.
The kiss was desperate.
Intense.
Then, she fell into it. Her hands tangled in my hair, pulling me closer, as if she could absorb the pain and give back warmth.
Groaning, my hands roamed her body, feeling the softness of her wet skin and the little bit of heat that radiated from her.
Surely, it wasn’t wise to try and fuck in a rocking raft caught in a storm.
Yet, inside our small raft, there was a fire rising.
A fire that burned away the darkness, that promised something more, something beyond the violence and the bloodshed of our lives.
Breathless, she pulled away from me and licked her lips. “Havoc. . .”
“Yes.”
“Are we going to die here?”
“I hope not.”
“We. . .might.”
“I’m not so sure just yet, for now, all I know is that we are in the darkest hour.”
“What does that mean?”
“The darkest hour is when the worst things can happen to you. Intense horrific things. We are definitely in the darkest hour right now. Can you feel the darkness surrounding us, almost. . .suffocating us?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“That’s not good.”
“Oh no. It is. Because. . .it is only in our darkest hours do we discover the brilliant light within ourselves. Our souls burn. They glow. And it is a light that can never be dimmed. Nor put out.”
She gave me a sad smile. “I hope you’re right.”
“Lucky for you, I tend to always be right.”
Then, that smile left her face. “Havoc?”
“Yes.”
“Do you still want to know who my boss is?”
“I would rather kiss you again, but. . .” I winked. “For entertainment purposes. . .go ahead and tell me.”
“His name is Paris.”
No. Are you fucking kidding me?
Her words hung in the air, slicing through the intimate moment like a knife.
I pulled back, staring at her in disbelief.
The rain pelted down harder, soaking us both to the bone, but the cold outside was nothing compared to the chill that settled in my chest.
“Your boss is Paris?”
“Yes.”