Chapter 13 Kat
KAT
PLAYLIST: DUSK TILL DAWN (FEAT SIA) RADIO EDIT – ZAYN, SIA
“Wait here for a minute,” Lilian says, walking over to a desk in the open floor space, where she talks to a young man in a flower shirt with many rings on his fingers. I use the time to glance around Lilian’s office.
No pictures on the wall, except for her framed degrees. Master's in Computer Engineering from Columbia and Economics from Harvard. PhD in Information Technology from Brown.
“Of course,” I say with a scoff and turn away with a shaking head.
My eyes fall onto her desk. There it is, the open laptop with the closed Zeus system.
I glance at Lilian, and she’s still talking to the employee.
My heart pounds as I walk over to it.
It’ll be my death, but I’ll have to.
Have to.
I close it and slip it into my backpack.
I need to get her focus elsewhere when she returns. Change her perception.
I walk back over to where the certificates hang on the wall.
Lilian returns and tells me, “We’re getting out of here.”
“Impressive collection,” I say to her briefly and point at the wall.
“Looks great,” she says, looking at me as she unconsciously packs her bag. “But it’s nothing but paper.”
“You seem to be proud of them,” I say to keep her focused on me.
“I couldn’t care less.”
“Why hang them here, then?” I ask, and she walks up to me.
“They’re an illusion that impresses others, business contacts.”
I scoff.
“Come,” she says and pulls me with her. “Let’s get out of here.”
I grab my backpack and let her, quietly congratulating myself for my cunningness. Only it doesn’t feel like a win. It feels like the thing it is: Betrayal.
I store the emotion somewhere deep down. I am a cold-blooded killer. I don’t care about anything.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“My home,” she says, and eyes me.
It tastes bitter to me. I put on a smile to keep my real emotion from showing on my face.
I recognize the second bodyguard behind the wheel as we enter her car. It’s a thirty-minute ride to reach her home, and she doesn’t say a word.
I watch her the entire time.
I try to plan and think, but I can’t.
So I just watch her.
We reach her brownstone, and I am neither searched nor checked for anything, and relief spreads through me. Because if I had been searched, I would’ve needed to kill all of them instantly, and with Hannigan as a very trained professional, it would end badly for me.
Lilian hesitates for one second before she opens the door, and my stomach plummets, because I fear she might have changed her mind on the search. But then, she opens the door and lets me in.
I am so curious about how she lives. Not that I care much about interior design, but how a person lives reflects their personality, and I can’t completely grasp her.
I step into the house, and its cleanliness amazes me.
No clutter, no nothing. Just free space with the most necessary essentials, like a black leather couch.
No art on the walls, no rugs, no plants, not so much as a candle for decoration.
The open kitchen, all black, reveals a clean surface, as if it had never been used.
My eyes take in every inch, and I can feel Lilian's eyes on me.
“It’s very…clean,” I say, because I like it, Ella, however, doesn’t. “Almost sterile.”
Lilian snorts.
“Exactly,” she says. “Sit down there,” she adds and points to the couch. “Drink?”
“No,” I say, and don’t do what she said. Instead, I walk over to her and push her back into the wall, my hand wandering over her forehead to push it back.
She gasps as I kiss her throat and neck down to her collarbone and trail back up with my tongue.
“The only thing I want is you,” I say, words pouring from my mouth. Words I shouldn’t say.
“You—“ she begins in her desperate attempt to regain control, but I don’t let her.
“Shut up,” I tell her. “Let me take care of you.”
She wants to fight me over it. Her mouth opened, reproachful eyes. I know, I tell her in my mind.
“You wanted me to make you come three times. We’re two short of that,” I say and add, “I’ll do everything for my mistress,” to appease her. The effect is immediate. She inhales deeply, closes her eyes, and lets me.
My hands trail over her body. The material of her suit is something I have never felt before—it is so soft and yet thick and firm. I need to feel more of her than the fabric allows. I need to feel her skin. Her body. I want to scent and taste her.
My hands brush back her suit, and it drops to the floor with a thud. The silken shirt caresses my skin as I trail my finger over it, opening the buttons.
Only then do I loosen the ascot and slip it off her with a fast tug. The ascot slaps through the air, and she twitches slightly. Oh, how I love to play with the senses.
Her open shirt reveals a black-and-beige laced bra, and I can finally touch her skin.
My hands caress over her sides up her shoulder to open the shirt. My fingertips feel as if I am brushing over rose leaves; never in my life have I felt skin as soft as hers, and I’d love nothing more than to see blood running over it. See it. Taste it. Smear it.
I kiss down between her breasts and down her belly into a high kneeling position.
I glance up to see her reaction as I fumble open her pants. I don’t slide them down; they rest beautifully on her hips.
Matching underwear. I didn’t expect anything less. I myself am not much of a lingerie person, I throw on what fits and is clean, but Lilian and her perfection would never—I know so much now.
I lick my way back up and massage one of her breasts with my hand. Her soft moan confirms that what I am doing is just about right.
I pull down the cup from her left breast, revealing what I desire. My tongue trails around her nipple, which hardens with every circle I draw around it. My lips encase it as I suck on her breast and massage her other breast with my hand.
I wonder if she likes it rougher, so I bite her nipple. Not too hard, but hard enough to make her squeak and throw her head back up.
I look up to check if she liked it, and what I see is a fiery gaze.
A smile curves my mouth.
Lilian grabs me by my jacket, aiming to get rid of it, but the very moment my body stiffens.
I suddenly realize what I am doing here.
This is Lilian.
I can’t.
I can’t let it happen.
Fear surges through me, and my stomach plummets.
I take a step back as my thoughts overwhelm me.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, but her words are so far away.
I feel too much.
I am scared.
I am never scared.
I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.
I can’t be with her as Ella.
The lie I can’t hold up.
Because I am too deep in.
I am.
Not Ella.
I am.
Because of all the feelings I have.
And it cannot be.
It just can’t.
I need to avenge what she, Sutton, and all the others have done.
I stumble back another step.
Fear consumes my chest.
I can’t breathe properly.
The plan.
Focus on the plan, I tell myself.
The plan is the only thing that matters.
It is the only thing that kept me going all those years.
Murdering Sutton.
Now murdering the woman who was part of his organization.
But whatever I try, what I feel doesn’t vanish.
I feel.
For her.
As me.
The ghost.
The killer who can’t kill.
Because of the feelings.
It is one last look, before I run.
Lilian follows me, calling something, but I can’t hear her. My hand is on the door handle as I turn, like being steered by an external force.
I see her. Those mesmerizing eyes stare at me as she closes her shirt.
“I’m sorry,” I say with a voice that isn’t mine, and I’m outside on the doorsteps.
Air.
Breathing in air.
I stumble down the stairs.
Not knowing what to do or where to go.
“Wait!”
I hear her shout after me, but I can’t.
I can’t. I can’t give up who I am for her.
But I also can’t leave.
I am frozen to the spot on the sidewalk.
A hand grasps mine.
Her hand.
Her touch.
I turn.
Those eyes.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” she says.
“I can’t,” I stutter out.
“Why?”
I open my mouth, searching for words, for a lie to tell her, but I can’t. I need to make her hate me to get out of it, because I can’t.
“Because I am doing the one thing I am not allowed to,” I say with a shaky voice, and her face hardens. She has put on a mask, one to protect her from what I am about to say.
“I am violating clause one,” I say. “And I can’t. So please…please let me go.”
“I can’t,” she whispers, and she pulls me close, cups my face. Her lips meet mine before I can do anything.
I am helpless as warmth spreads through my body and I melt into her touch.
There we are, kissing on a sidewalk in the middle of Manhattan, and nothing else matters.
Everything is quiet again.
In me.
Outside me.
It is…peaceful.
The earshattering sound of a fired gun cuts through the air and echoes between the houses. I react without thinking and pull us down, but it’s too late. The bullet has brushed my side, and pain surges through me, but I don’t care.
I pull her with me into the safety of a parked car. I don’t even need to look at her to know she’s hit.
Hannigan is with us within a matter of seconds, and more shots are fired. Hannigan aims and shoots at somewhere behind me, but I have only eyes for Lilian.
Her weak body in my arms as the white shirt turns red from the blood she is losing. The bullet went straight through her upper abdomen.
I could just run away and let her die.
Whoever it was did the job for me.
Just run, I tell myself.
But I can’t.
Not after that kiss.
Glass shattering.
Screaming.
“We need to get her to a hospital!” I shout at Hannigan.
I glance up to check what’s going on. There are still shots fired, Hannigan jumps up, shooting blindly before he comes back down into cover.
“Can you carry her?” he asks. I honestly don’t know. I am trained, but lifting a body without tension as carefully as possible because of the bleeding is not easy. But who am I not to try?