The Assassin
“No, please! Wait! I have a family!” My target pleaded as I finished tying his wrists tight to the bedpost. The prickly material of the rope scraped at his fair skin, adding decor to the red marks from the tight knot.
I almost tilted my head at his remarks. Was I supposed to care that he had a family? Especially when he was hundreds of miles away from them in a fancy hotel with a pretty young woman? Clearly, he wasn’t thinking about them or their well-being. They were probably better off without him, anyway.
Continuing with my instructions, I unsheathed a blade from the holder on my hip.
His eyes widened at the sight. “No! No! Please! I haven’t done anything wrong! I swear!”
My targets have been so quick to plead their innocence lately.
They wasted their last breaths confusing me for the judge and the jury.
I was only the executioner. Their guilty verdict was sealed long before the moment their information crossed my imaginary desk.
Little did they know it was accompanied by a death sentence.
When I was younger, I used to care about the reasons behind their sentencing.
How much wrongdoing could someone commit to bring death knocking at their door?
Some of my targets had long lists of vices.
Ones worth being brutally tortured and killed over.
But most, like the gentleman in my crosshairs now, made one tiny mistake: running their fucking mouth.
I thought it was common sense not to talk when you’re involved with any type of crime organization.
But, as of late, that’s what most of these white collar bozos have been doing.
Talking to the cops trying to lighten their punishment.
Talking to others in their circles to get street cred.
Hell, they would probably sit at the top of the world and shout their deeds from the rooftops if they could - just to make themselves feel important.
Stupidity and pride are the most slippery slopes towards death.
Now, I don’t invest much time into the reasoning behind my target’s sentence - or the brutal instructions given. It wasn’t my business why they had to die. It was just my job to carry it out.
The man’s chest erratically rose and fell as I came closer to him again. Tears streamed down his beet red cheeks as he shook his head. “Please, no! You don’t have to do this!”
I took the opportunity of his open mouth to reach inside and grab his tongue. His shrill whines filled my ears as I stretched it as far as it could go. “Actually,” I said, lining the blade up with the back of his tongue. “I do.”
Pressing the knife down against his tongue, I ripped into the muscle, slicing it apart.
An inhuman scream crawled up the man’s throat from the agonizing pain, but that didn’t deter me from my task. I continued pushing my knife through, coating the silver blade with blood.
The liquid poured from his mouth once I finally sliced through the entire thing and detached it from his body.
It slipped over his lips and chin like water streaming from a fountain.
Above the falls, his eyes were squeezed shut and his brows were scrunched together, creating a ripple of wrinkles across his face.
It was an expression I’ve become all too familiar with.
He sat there, choking and gurgling on his own blood, for longer than I wanted to wait.
I grabbed a handful of his salt-and-pepper hair, pulled his head back, and ran the blade across his throat. Another red stream cascaded down his body, drenching his shirt. Within moments, his croaky noises stopped and his body fell completely limp.
Satisfied with my task, I tossed the body on the ground and exited through the window from which I came. Cloaked in darkness, I shimmied down the wire rope I used to climb up and hopped down into a bed of nearby bushes.
“Clear,” I murmured.
“Copy,” the automated voice substituting Maria’s replied.
I stuck close to the wall as I made my way around the building and towards the back of the crowded parking lot where our vehicle sat.
Maria was in the loading bay, reactivating the security cameras. She tore her gaze away from the array of computers to glance at me. Instantly, her nose scrunched up. You smell like copper and pussy.
“Hazards of the job,” I replied with a shrug. I grabbed the roll of large trash bags from off the floor, ripped one off and laid it open on the floor. With my gloves still on, I started peeling my blood-soaked clothes off.
No witnesses this time, right?
“Nope. The girl got lucky. Took off with his wallet a few minutes before I went in.”
Nodding, Maria turned back to her computers. With a flick of her fingers, all of the monitors went dark. We might have some down time for a while, she said as she swiveled around to face me again. Ares gave the others some jobs in the midwest, and I haven’t heard any commotion on the news lately.
I raised a brow. “Do you have ideas on how to spend our downtime?”
I was thinking we could go back to the East Coast for a few days.
“Why? So you can see Ruiz's tech guy again? What is his name? Maurice? Matthew? Micah?”
“Miles,” she spoke aloud, her voice strained and cracked.
The sound shoved me as I leaned backward in surprise. Maria hardly ever spoke. Not unless she had to. It’s been weeks since the last time I heard her voice.
Maria’s eyes widened as she realized what she’d done. Averting her gaze, she returned to signing. His name is Miles. But, he’s not the reason I was suggesting we go there. You have unfinished business, remember?
The mention of the agent summoned the fantasy looming over the back of my head. The one with her body flushed against mine and my hands around her neck. The thought of it almost made me smile. “Would your boyfriend be willing to get us into the FBI’s database again?”
He’s not my boyfriend. But, yeah probably. She tilted her head. Why? I can hack into her personal information on my own.
“I’ll need more than her personal information if this is going to work,” I explained.
Feds are usually equipped with years of training and experience.
I’d gotten caught off guard the first time when she tried to protect my target.
A few times in the struggle, she almost had me.
I couldn’t let that happen again. And sometimes those federal files knew more about the agents than they knew about themselves.
I needed to know every nook and cranny of her life. Of her mind.
To kill her properly, I needed her in a vulnerable state, leaving me with two options: find her weakness or tear down every single wall and defense mechanism she had. Judging from the fire in her eyes, neither one was going to be easy.
Still, I was up for the challenge. Spirits were just like bones - if you bend them hard enough, they’ll break.
And I couldn’t wait to see the cracks I was going to make in hers.