Heart of an Assassin

The music palpitated from the heart of the club into the clear night, rippling out like a stone tossed into still water. My bones vibrated from it, from the anticipation that charged the air. I imagined myself inside, anonymous, among the sweaty, swaying bodies that packed every corner, lost in music and movement. I shook my head to clear the thoughts. Dancing was not on tonight’s agenda. I peered around the corner of the building, pressing myself so far into the shadows of the alley that the bricks scraped my skin like the chapped lips of a rough lover. No one appeared to be preoccupied with searching hidden backstreets for hired guns. I slid along the wall, looking for a way to scale up to the roof three stories above. A dumpster squatting below a rusty, skeletal fire escape presented itself, as if I had willed it into existence. I scurried up agilely, pausing halfway to conceal myself. A pair of drunken club patrons stumbled into the dark mouth of the alley, moaning and pawing at one another. For a brief moment I imagined myself as the young woman below, flushed with desire, making wrong decisions that felt right, free and unencumbered on a Friday night. I could relate, at least, to making wrong decisions. How I had ended up twenty-two years old, a seasoned assassin with a death toll a mile long, was just one long procession of bad decisions. I wondered at the turn of my thoughts; this was just another day at the office. I turned my attention back to the matter at hand and continued soundlessly up the brick facade. I swung a leg over the lip of the roof and rolled behind the cover of a steaming vent. The musk of dancers and the vestiges of acrid cigarette smoke wisped into the cool night air. I crept low across the gravelly roof to perch over the club’s entrance, awaiting my mark.

My mind began to wind its way back to the passionate couple in the alley below. I closed my eyes as memories flitted across my lids; sweat-slicked skin on skin, fistfuls of sheets, and ragged breathing. My eyes shot open as I heard a car’s low rumble approach. I only knew it was my mark from vague details: date, time, location, and the ostentatious electric blue sports car that was now rolling into position. Every nerve in my body sang as I tensed the blow gun in my hand. No one would even know I had struck until the poison had my mark frothing at the mouth, and I was long gone. The car door opened, and as the driver emerged, I nearly tumbled headfirst over the roof’s edge. This couldn’t be happening. I blinked rapidly as my heart thrummed in my ears. I had seen those lips before, kissed those lips. I had felt those arms around me long ago, in another life. The memory of our humid breath mingling as our limbs tangled was nearly tangible. How could I kill him now? How could I kill him when I had already held him as the light faded from his eyes, as he took his last breath? The gaping hole that was my heart stretched its maw wider as the ache of the last two years crashed over me. Every moment of his absence burned through my veins, every nightmare that had caged and paralyzed me within my guilt-ridden memories seemed to swirl around me.

I clamped my eyes shut and breathed. In. Out. In. Out. Time slowed and closed in on me, suffocating and sharp as daggers. My heart thrashed wildly but I willed my eyes to open and focus on the scene below. I caught sight of Deo’s lithe form slipping into the gleaming doors of the club. The thumping darkness enveloped him, surging me into motion. Like a spider after its prey I climbed quickly back the way I’d come, springing off of the dumpster’s lid and launching myself from the black cloak of the alley into the neon glow emanating from the club. Surprised faces turned to me as I appeared out of nowhere and disappeared again through the doors just as fast. Inside, the club was as I had imagined it: revelers filled every corner, dancing, laughing, drinking, groping. My eyes took a moment to adjust to the foggy, strobing light and I scanned the formless crowd for Deo. There. He was a good head taller than most of the club’s patrons and he was moving steadily towards the gloom behind the packed dance floor. I wove through the labyrinth of undulating dancers, gaining distance with my feet as my mind slipped away from my body.

…

The sun oozed through the curtains, coating the room in its yolky light. I pretended that sleep still held me so that I could bask in the velvety warmth of Deo’s body next to mine.

“Laia, I know you’re awake, you’re smiling.” Deo’s breath tickled my ear as he slowly kissed the crook of my neck. His fingers grazed the length of my spine, heating me to my core.

I rolled to face him, taking his stubbled jaw in my hands, kissing him deeply. “I am not awake, this is definitely a dream,” I said between kisses.

“Mmm, yes, a very good dream.” His voice was like far off thunder, a harbinger of the lightning to come.

In the next moment he was over me, his hands roving hungrily, our tongues dancing with passionate urgency. Each spot where our bodies brushed tingled, as a limb too long unmoved. He moaned quietly and I lifted my hips to meet his length. My breath caught as I led him into the molten heat of me. His body was like the sea: strong and hard, smooth and fluid.

I had watched him turn into this man before me. Changing over the years from gangly and awkward, to lean and toned. Our love had changed, too. As kids we were inseparable; riding bikes through the city and charting stars on his roof. As we grew, the jibes turned into sly glances, teasing to stolen kisses. Those moments together had laid the foundation for bliss.

We spent the morning moving as one, relishing the paradise beneath our sheets, until we were both spent, lying panting, love and desire lighting our eyes.

…

Ghosts of Deo's kisses whispered on my lips as I trailed him through the club. He dissolved into the darkness beyond the dance floor, reappearing momentarily between strobes of light as a door swung open to admit his shadowed form. I plunged headlong after him. For a moment I couldn’t see as I dove into the black. My eyes quickly adjusted and I grabbed for the door’s handle. Too late, the lock had already clicked into place. I allowed myself a moment to let my mind catch up. What the hell was happening?! Deo was just beyond the door‒here, alive. Again, the vision of his death assaulted my mind. That had been real. I was there, my hands had been slick with his blood. I had to speak to him, I had to make sense of all this, assignment be damned.

My feet carried me back outside of their own volition and delivered me from the smothering heat of the club. The sidewalk outside was crowded with party-goers milling around, smoking cigarettes, laughing, and wiping dance-induced sweat from their brows; a stark contrast to the nauseating disbelief roiling in my guts. I let the feel of the cool night on my clammy skin sober me as I formulated a plan.

“Excuse me,” I said sweetly as I approached the valet stand, donning a mask of innocence and allure. “I need to get something out of my car. Would it be okay if I just popped back to the lot and grabbed it?”

“We aren’t really supposed to let people back there,” the young valet said with annoyance.

“I totally understand, and I don’t want to ask you to break the rules, but I need a tampon,” I whispered with emphasis, “and the machine in the ladies' room is out.”

“Oh, ok, uh, I get it.” He was visibly uncomfortable as he shuffled over to the key cupboard. “Which ones are yours?”

“Those ones there.” I pointed to the set bearing the logoed keychain that matched the one on Deo’s car, praying it was the only ridiculously expensive car in the lot.

The valet lifted a brow, appraising me. “Uh, follow me, and please don’t tell anyone about this, I could get in serious trouble.” He handed me the keys and headed around the corner of the building.

“I totally wont, thanks for being so cool about this, you’re a lifesaver!” I flashed him a smile. “I’ll be quick,” I said as I made for the car. I spotted it several rows away. Could there be a more conspicuous vehicle? I clicked the fob and almost slumped with relief as the lights flashed and the doors unlocked. I opened the driver’s side door, sliding inside. Deo’s scent filled my nostrils, intoxicating me immediately. Keep it together, Laia. I pulled my phone from the belt bag at my waist and activated the tracking feature. Opening the glove box, I shoved the phone inside, concealing it underneath the papers and manuals within. “Got it!” I said, climbing out and locking the car again. I sauntered back to the valet. “Thanks again,” I tossed him the keys with a wink, “gotta get back in there. Have a great night.” I rounded the building quickly and disappeared before he could follow.

Sliding through the crowd waiting to enter the club, I dashed down the street through the gathering fog. How apropos, I thought. I reached my own vehicle in seconds and threw myself inside, breathless. What am I doing right now? This is going to get me tossed from the guild, or worse, killed. I’m insane, I have officially lost it, I’m off my rocker, totally bat shit. I ran my hands down my face with a huff. But this is Deo, he’s alive somehow. I have to see him, look in his eyes. I need to know why, how. My chest heaved as I tried to breathe through my growing anxiety. Can twenty-two-year-olds have heart attacks? I gripped the steering wheel and bit back a scream. Keep it together, Laia, I told myself again, you are trained for crazier shit than this. Before this night is over you will have an answer. If I was honest with myself, an answer wasn’t even at the top of my wish list. The thought of holding him again nearly brought tears to my eyes. The ache of longing hollowed my bones.

For the last two years I had cried myself to sleep nearly every night, reliving the one moment I wished I could forget. I had awoken next to Deo after a night with little sleep. Rather, we had spent the hours in the throes of passion, caught in the all-encompassing whirlwind of young love. I couldn’t quite remember exactly what had pulled me from sleep, but as soon as I woke, I knew something was wrong. Deo’s breathing was ragged and wet. I had shot to my knees and crouched over his prone form. His eyes had been glazed, his brow slick with sweat, though his skin was cold to the touch. His hands were pressed into his abdomen, blood was blooming across his shirt and onto the bed beneath.

Not now, you can’t go there right now, I told myself. I pulled my focus and retrieved my tablet from beneath my car seat. The location of my phone was moving. Deo had left the club. I threw the car in drive and followed.

I followed Deo easily at a distance, given his absurd choice in paint colors. I made a mental note to find out what that was all about…once I found out how he was alive and where he’d been, of course. The watch at my wrist alerted me to a text message. Thankfully, I had remembered to silence my phone before I planted it in the glove box. I glanced down. Shit. It was the Director. The text flashed across the watch screen: "Where are you?! The mark was seen leaving the location." What could I say? Sorry, boss, the mark turned out to be my one true love that I thought was dead...I would have to swim that crocodile-infested moat later. Deo was pulling into a parking garage below some condos that appeared to be even more pretentious than his car. How on Earth can he afford all this stuff? The questions kept piling up. I clicked my headlights off and pulled into the garage just before it began to close. Deo’s car had rounded a turn out of sight. I pulled quickly into a shadowed spot and exited my vehicle. Sneaking low between cars, I tailed him past the elevators to the stairwell. At least some things don’t change, always trying to stay fit. My hands had started to shake and there was a very real possibility that I would throw up. I tamped my nerves and followed the familiar cadence of Deo’s steps; up and around we went.

Deo stopped at the door to the sixth floor, just as sweat was beginning to bead on my brow. I heaved a sigh and crept closer, catching the door as it began to swing shut. I stepped into the light of the impeccably decorated hallway.

“Laia?!” Deo was a few feet away, shock draining his usually olive skin.

“Deo…” my voice was a barely audible squeak.

“I heard someone following me. What are you doing here?” his tone was surprisingly relaxed given the circumstances, but his sideways glances belied something closer to fear.

“What am I doing here?! I watched you die. What are you doing here?” I felt white hot anger rising in my chest. I had been so preoccupied with the idea of him being alive that I hadn’t realized I could kill him myself for what he’d let me endure.

“We shouldn’t talk here, there are windows everywhere, someone could see. Please come inside and I will explain,” he gestured to an ornate door at his left.

“Okay, but I’m going to need a drink. I hope death didn’t change your taste in whiskey.” I followed him into the dark of the apartment.

“Not even death could change my feelings for Jack,” he said lightly. Realizing his flippancy he cleared his throat, “I mean, uh, how about a double?”

He flipped a switch and the apartment around us was gilded in soft, golden light. Deo made for the bar near the far windows as I took in the space. And space there was. The place was enormous, it had to take up the entire sixth floor. The decor was just as refined as it had been in the hallway: lush rugs, velvet curtains, marble countertops. The furniture was well worn enough to look expensively made that way. Everything felt comfortable and welcoming, like coming home. Just like Deo always had. I followed him to the bar set before the massive, floor-to-ceiling windows and my mouth gaped. The view was incredible, the entire city splayed out before us like a banquet of twinkling lights.

Deo handed me a glass half full of amber liquid and I downed it greedily. I sucked in a breath through my teeth as the pleasant burn worked its way down my center. I hadn’t had a drink in almost two years; being a hired gun doesn’t mesh well with dulled faculties. For long moments we just stood there, side by side, so close I could feel the warmth of him. So close that I could twitch my fingers and take his hand in mine.

“So, should we go ahead and start at the part where I watched you bleed out?” I turned to see him wince at the venom in my voice.

I braced myself for his rebuttal, but he crumpled, slouching into the nearest chair. A montage of emotions crossed his handsome face, each one contorting his features into those of a much older man. He opened his mouth to speak several times, only to close it again and sigh.

“Laia, I can’t tell you how sorry I am for what I’ve put you through. I-”

I interrupted him abruptly, “I don’t want to hear how sorry you are. Sorry means nothing!” My voice was rising steadily. “I want to know what the fuck happened, I want to know how you are still alive, I want to know how you could let me think you were dead for two years, how you could tell me to leave your dead body in the bed we shared. I want to know how the hell you have the money for that hideous car and this insane apartment. Don’t start with sorry, I can’t begin to offer you my forgiveness right now. Start with that morning, and tell me what exactly I woke up to.”

He looked at me intently, with love and tears glazing his depthless green eyes, and he began.

-

I sat unmoving, entranced by the strangeness of the experience, listening as he disassembled all the truths I had constructed over the previous two years. He began by telling me how his father was not, as I had been led to believe, an antiques dealer, but a high-profile criminal who facilitated the purchasing of stolen artifacts. I had been almost unable to process this revelation. I had spent many late evenings in his cozy, albeit luxurious, home, playing Parcheesi with him and Deo, and sipping peppermint tea by the fire. That man was a crime lord? I tried to imagine his father doing the things Deo described, the kindness in his eyes replaced with ice as he meted out illegal justice to those who crossed him. I supposed that if I could fall into a life of crime, anyone could. Deo went on to reveal that it had always been his father’s expectation that he would carry on the family business. I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly at the cliché of it all.

Deo’s father had indulged his only son and had granted him the illusion of the freedom to choose. “Take your time and find yourself, son.” he had told him. Apparently when Deo had turned twenty-one, that invitation had been rescinded. Deo recounted how his father had been waiting for him in our apartment one evening, while I had been out Christmas shopping. I remembered it then, how happy I had felt as I browsed for the perfect, silly things to fill his stocking with. It had been our first, and only, Christmas in a home that we shared. While I had been purchasing baubles, Deo’s father had been roughing him up just enough not to leave any marks. He had demanded that Deo let go of his ridiculous, common life, and begin his immersion into the business. Deo was to leave me in whatever way necessary so that I would not follow, leaving no question as to what would happen to me if he did not comply. I remembered then too, the haunted look in Deo’s eyes when I had returned home that night. “Just tired.” he had said. He paced as he told me of the fear that had gripped him as he had scrambled to find a way out of the cage that his father had erected around him.

“I didn’t know what to do, Laia. He was threatening to kill you. I couldn’t call his bluff. I grew up seeing who he really was and the way that the people around him behaved; they were terrified. I knew that I had no choice but to save you, to leave. But I also knew that you would never let it go, just like that. I tried to think of something I could say to you, to explain the reality of the situation. We both know that if I had told you the truth, you would have wanted us to run away, but my father would find us, he would find you. I even thought about killing myself to save you. That’s when I had an idea, one that would save us both.”

I stared at him. Gaped. “Your dad was going to kill me? Like, murder me, dead?” I couldn’t believe what was happening. My throat was suddenly dry and my tongue felt too big for my mouth.

“Yeah, it’s nuts, I know.” He poured us both another drink. “How could I have told you, growing up, that my dad was basically the Godfather?”

“No wonder he likes that movie so much. Ugh, and he was constantly doing that terrible Brando impression.” I giggled at the thought. Actually giggled. And then we were laughing; wholeheartedly, hysterically laughing. Tears ran down our faces and it felt like we poured everything into that laugh. “I can’t tell you what it’s like to see you laughing, Deo. This is surreal.”

“For me too. I never thought I would see you again.” He took his seat, draping a leg over the arm of the chair.

“Obviously, I never expected to see you again either. I did wonder why the police never came knocking, why there was no investigation, why there was no funeral or mention of your death. I chalked it up to life in a big city, crimes happen all the time. But your dad wouldn’t return my calls. It was like you had just been erased. I suppose it makes sense now. I was so lost in grief that I couldn’t think straight. But, continue please, tell me about this plan you came up with.”

“I knew that it had to be something permanent, something that would stop you from trying to find me or convince me to stay. So, I asked my dad to find me someone who could make it look like a break in, someone who could hurt me enough for it to be believable, but that wouldn’t actually kill me.”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now, Deo? You faked your own death to protect me? If I wasn’t so shocked, I would say it was romantic. Morbid, but romantic”

“When you say it like that it sounds so dramatic.” He half-smiled at me. Always making light of the situation. “But yeah, that’s what I did. My father enlisted one of his guys to break into our apartment and stab me, to make it look like a B&E. I promised my dad that if he helped me pull it off, that I would go without a fight. He always liked you, you know, and he didn’t want to hurt you. I mean, he would’ve killed you, but he seemed on board with the plan.”

“It was believable. I remember how ransacked the apartment was. But, how did I not wake up? I was laying right next to you.” I waded through those painful memories, it was like struggling through knee-deep mud.

“I drugged your water that you kept by the bed,” he said simply.

“You drugged me?!” Somehow that betrayal cut deep.

“Believe me, Laia, nothing about the situation was ideal. None of it felt right. I didn’t know how else to keep you safe.” I could see the tension and guilt in every line of his body. “I had to make sure that you were innocent, that you didn’t find out.”

“I thought that it was the shock that made everything feel so fuzzy. I have tried so hard to hold on to the details of that morning. I became a fucking assassin, Deo, so that I could find the person who killed you. So that I could watch the life fade from their eyes, like I had to watch yours slip through my fingers.” I was standing now, hands fisted at my sides.

“Wait, what? An assassin? You have got to be kidding me. I thought being the son of a gangster was unbelievable. When did our lives become an action movie?”

“No shit, this is all totally insane.” I walked to the windows and peered into the twinkling darkness. A city full of people, going about their lives. How many others were swept up in the surreal? I took a deep breath, turning to face him. “Ok, so, I wake up, you are bleeding to death from a stab wound you had your dad hire someone to inflict, and you tell me to run. What then?”

“I had to make sure that you got away before you started thinking clearly, that’s why I told you to leave, that I didn’t want you to remember me that way. I knew that my dad had the police in his pocket, knew that you would call 911 and that they would give you lip service. My dad was in the hallway, he saw you leave, then called his doctor to come stitch me up.” He paused, considering. “Where did you go, anyway, all covered in blood? I realized afterwards that I hadn’t considered that piece.”

“I got in the car and went to the lake house. My family hardly ever uses it anymore so I knew it would be empty in the middle of January.” I was starting to feel sick. When had I last eaten? The whiskey was churning in my stomach. “Do you have anything to eat? The booze and talk of death are making me woozy.”

“Cold chow mein?” he asked, making his way towards the kitchen.

“Still eating like a teenager, I see.” I followed him and perched on one of the suede-covered stools at the kitchen’s bar.

“If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it!” he said as he rummaged through the refrigerator, emerging with a few takeout containers. He stabbed a fork into one and handed it to me.

“So, what does your half-life look like now?” I asked through a mouthful of noodles.

“I mostly do the books. I just don’t have the stomach for the rough stuff, so I keep my head down and make myself useful by keeping the numbers straight. It’s a good place to be, too, because I have a paper trail,” he whispered, “almost enough to take the whole thing down.”

“What do you mean?” I whispered back.

“I am building a case to take to the FBI. My dad has his claws in all over the world and from what I can glean, he’s involved with some pretty big fish.”

“Deo, this sounds dangerous. You already cheated death once, don’t take any chances. If your dad is as ruthless as you say, there’s no telling what he could do.” I had somehow made my way around the bar and stood inches from him. At once we noticed how close we were and our chests heaved in unison.

“Laia, he took you from me, he took our future. I will not stop until he’s behind bars. The man is a monster. The person we knew growing up, who made us snacks and played games with us, was a character he was playing. He disgusts me. It’s torture to look him in the eye every day.” Deo’s hands were on my shoulders.

“You’re right. I can’t imagine what that’s like. How can I help? What can I do?” I looked up at him, trembling with rage, but also with something akin to desire. The familiar smell of him heated my blood.

“You have to leave, there’s nothing you can do.” He closed his eyes, steeling himself against the magnetic pull of our bodies. “I have to finish this on my own, I can’t have you at risk again.”

“Deo, I can’t leave you.” I choked on a sob, “I can’t walk away again, I can’t.” My hands were on his chest, my eyes tearful and pleading.

Suddenly, his lips were on mine and the love I had tried to control for so long crashed through me, like a hurricane against my heart. Unleashed, my arms wrapped around his neck, my hands fisted his hair, my hips instinctively pressed into his. As if reading my mind, he hoisted me up, my legs circling his waist, and started to back-step to the darkness of the hallway, never letting his lips leave mine. He carried me as we kissed and laid me tenderly onto a downy mattress; the gentle action in contrast to his pressing lips and persistent hands. I fully lost all sense then, and began pulling at my clothes. In seconds we were both fully disrobed and I couldn’t get close enough, his silken skin was intoxicating.

“Please.” I managed to moan.

Deo pressed himself into me with a gasp and the world dissolved. I had thought we would never again come together like this, in perfect passion and harmony. I had thought I couldn’t ever feel whole again, but as our bodies nested together, I knew we had always been a destined pair. As we moved, I looked into his eyes and made a decision.

-

After we had spent ourselves again and again, rekindling our love we had thought lost, Deo slept. I languished, my body splayed across his, in blissful exhaustion. My watch began to buzz on the nightstand and I rolled to retrieve it before it woke him. 15 missed calls and 8 text messages. Fuck, this cannot be good. I scrolled through the notifications: The Director. No surprise there, I was most definitely in deep, deep shit. The last message jolted me into a sitting position:

“We know where you are. Finish the job. Report back immediately. Non-negotiable. Failure to comply will result in permanent termination.”

Wonderful, another death threat. I slipped the watch on and slithered from the bed. Work would have to wait, impending doom or no. I had a plan. I silently dressed as I watched Deo’s chest rise and fall. Alive. The thought propelled me into the light of the living room and straight out the front door. I had to move quickly.

I raced to my car and squealed out of the garage. The sun was rising as I drove out of the city. It felt right to have a new day dawning. I felt new, fueled by a sense of purpose I hadn’t felt in so long.

I pulled into the circular drive, surprised at the open gates. I parked in the shadows of the elaborate topiaries and pulled a small dagger and a garrote from the glove box. I still had the poison darts in my belt bag but I had dropped the blow gun on the roof. I hadn’t brought a gun with me, either. Close contact it is. I exited the car and padded along the line of trees towards the stately house. It looked just like I remembered it, but a chill still ran up my spine to think about all the sinister deeds its owner committed within its walls.

As I moved towards the first-floor windows, movement caught my eye. Music floated from the house: “Mack the Knife.” How on-brand, I thought. A figure emerged from the portico.

“Hello, Laia, it’s been too long.” Deo’s father approached, his hands casually in his pockets.

“Benjamin.” I said through gritted teeth. What was happening here?

“Please come in and have some tea, for old time’s sake. I’m sure you have questions.”

I had no choice but to acquiesce, I had to get close. Odd that there were no guards. He must underestimate me. Good, all the better. I followed him into the opulent entryway and further into the sitting room. A fire crackled merrily in the hearth, such an oddly normal thing that it made me cringe. How many people had met their death in this house? Tonight, it would be his life that met its end. I let the surety bolster my confidence.

“Were you expecting me? You seem unsurprised that I’m here.” I took the chair he gestured to, across from its twin, in front of the fire. So many times, we had sat there, waxing philosophical as Deo had lounged on the floor in the heat of the dying coals.

“Yes, actually. You are rather later than I expected. Did you misplace your phone? We tried many times to reach you.” His tone was professional.

My blood turned to ice. I sat blinking, confounded. “What? What are you talking about?”

“Come on, Laia, you are smarter than this. Think.” He waited as my mind reeled.

“You. You are the Director?” The information clanked around my mind. “How? I have spoken to you, I’ve met you...I mean, I've met the Director.” My vision spun.

“No dear, you’ve met the puppets that work for me. This has all been very carefully organized. Unfortunately, last night, you went off script. It was my expectation that you would follow your training and eliminate your mark immediately, before you had time to recognize him. At that point, you yourself were to be removed from service. However, you went rogue, rendezvoused with my duplicitous son, and here we are.” He did not seem perturbed in the least.

“You wanted us both dead. You...you orchestrated that meeting with the PI all those years ago, lured me into training…” The fog began to lift and every oddly opportune thing since Deo’s death became clear.

“Yes, yes, now you see!” He rose and strode to the antique tea cart that had been a staple in the room for as long as I could remember.

His back was turned, pouring peppermint tea, and I pulled a dart from my bag, concealing it in my hand. I would need to work fast and get out of here. Enough of this ridiculous pleasantry. Why did bad guys always want to draw everything out with useless conversation?

“I never wanted this for either of you, Laia, but business is business, family or not.” He approached me, a delicate cup and saucer balanced in his hand. As he moved to hand it to me, I struck. I flipped the steaming liquid into his face and raised my arm to drive the dart home. He screamed as the tea scalded his face and neck, but he was fast, a seasoned killer. He grabbed my wrist in an iron grip and pried the dart from my fist. He held tight to my arm, twisting my flesh in his grasp.

“We did train you well, my dear. I will be sad to lose your services.” He leaned into my face, his eyes calculating.

I thrashed as I tried to break free. Time slowed and he sunk the dart into my thigh. As if it had been adrenaline and not deadly poison, my body electrified. I swept my foot behind his knees, knocking him to the ground, and pulled the dagger from my boot. I pinned his shoulders under my knees and let out a guttural roar. I stabbed wildly at his torso; a beast let loose, even as I could feel my insides boiling. Blood splattered my shirt and face, and still I plunged the knife; over and over.

Benjamin’s eyes clouded with approaching death. He bucked beneath me, futilely. I could feel it coming for me too. It would not be in vain. Deo would be free. I swayed but stayed upright, until he let out a final sigh. It’s over.

I closed my eyes then, and saw Deo’s face one last time, as I collapsed into the void.