The Assassin
“It’s not funny,” I told Maria. I’d called her after I’d woken up in the woods, and she’d quickly come to pick me up.
Now, she was sitting in front of me in our surveillance van, patching up my wounds with a smug smile on her face. Yes, it is, she signed. It’s alright to admit it.
I rolled my eyes. Getting my ass kicked in the woods wasn’t funny, but I couldn’t complain too much about the night as a whole.
Simone’s feisty side was a sight to behold. From the car wreck as a means to escape to using a branch as a weapon, her cleverness was truly one-of-a-kind.
Tonight, she’d made it known she wasn’t a target; she was an opponent - a worthy one.
The thrill of chasing her through the woods still lingered in my bones.
The look in her eye as she mauled me with a stick was the perfect addition to hang in my gallery of her.
Her anger. Her determination. Her will to survive.
She wasn’t as indifferent to death as I thought. She had reasons to live. And that would make our game all the more fun.
Maria plucked me in the forehead, rudely breaking my thoughts. Wipe that look off your face, she told me. She’s not a play toy, remember? She’s a loose end. And you need to tie it up - quick.
“I haven’t forgotten,” I assured her. “I’m just thinking about my next move.”
Don’t think too hard. You look like you’re enjoying this.
“I’m not.”
She arched her brow. Bullshit, she said without moving her hands. The word practically popped up over her forehead like a thought bubble.
Shaking her head, she resumed cleaning the cuts on my face.
I drifted back into my plotting. Next time, I needed to be more strategic. Get into her head more. Play on whatever she was hiding behind those witty comebacks and stony eyes.
Simone may have won this battle, but she wasn’t going to win the war.