Elle

After spending a few hours trying to find dirt on Alpha Gideon, I have to concede to the fact that his dark secrets are not on The Academy’s database. It's rare but it does happen; it just means I’m going to have to do some watching after all. I slam the computer closed with a dissatisfied sound and head over to the shower. I’m in no mood for a cold wash so I simply turn to the sink and settle for a whore’s bath. Once all of my important parts are clean, I dress myself in a clean pair of jeans, one of my red tanks and my heavy boots. Once my knife and handgun are strapped to my ankle and under my arm, I swing my bag over my shoulder and head out of the room. The kid is waiting for me; his hand is outstretched for the key and in his other I see a bread roll that actually looks fresh. It's already had several small bites taken out of it, which means his mama put the gold to good use and actually fed the poor kid. 

“I won’t be coming back and the bed needs a good clean, tell your master you did a good job.” I know it's important for kids like him to receive praise; most work the rest stops because they have no other prospects in life and most of the owners end up beating them to death before they're able to make their own way into the world. The sun has set and the rest stop is full of life. I can hear men beating the crap out of each other while others bet on who the winner will be; one woman is getting screwed by two men against the side of the building and under my feet are more needles than stones crunching against my boots. In terms of rest stops, this place is actually nice. I’ve heard rumours of rats and unsanitary conditions but I’ve seen none of that during my stay. 

“Oi!” I hear the yell just as I’m unlocking my van. I know that tone anywhere and drop my bag so I can face my soon-to-be attacker. I get this everywhere I go. Men see the blonde hair, soft skin and big breasts and incorrectly assume I’ll do whatever they say. 

“You should go back to your gut rot.” I growl as the man steps out of the shadows. He’s covered head to toe in tattoos; he’s forgone a shirt to show off his scarred chest. the scars are supposed to scare someone like me. He’s clearly been in several fights but all the scars do is show me that he favours his left side over his right, which gives me all I need to beat him in any kind of fight. 

“How about you drop to your knees and I’ll only take half of your gold.” I press my lips together to stop myself from laughing; bigger men than him have tried to take me down and each of them has failed. I separate my feet just enough to give me a strong stance. I hold my hands loose at my sides so I can go for weapons as soon as the man pounces. He’s eyeing me up, his gaze stopping on each of my weapons but the glint in his eyes tells me he doesn’t think I’m a threat to him. 

“Just get on with it; I have places to be.” I bring my hands up and cock a finger as if beckoning him closer; the man bares his teeth and raises his left hand so he can try to slam a fist into my face. I drop to my knees just like he wanted; I grab my knife and in less than a heartbeat, I have it plunged between his ribs. A gurgling sound comes out of his mouth as warm blood flows over my hand and down my arm. I can feel it dripping off my elbow as I grit my teeth and put pressure on the knife to force him backwards. 

“Bit-ch.” His voice cracks as he grabs hold of my wrist in an attempt to dislodge me but the knife’s point is grazing his heart, we both know he’s dead the second the knife leaves him but if I push just a little deeper, his death will be quicker. 

“A pretty face and a nice rack don’t mean you can paw all over me.” I spit in his face. I’m barely an inch from his lips so when he coughs and blood spurts out of his mouth, it sprays across my face. I close my eyes and dig a foot into his stomach so he’s propelled backwards and my knife is pulled from between his ribs. I watch as he drops to his knees and falls to the side; blood spills over the small stones as his face pales and the life drains from his eyes. Using the hem of my tank, I wipe down my blade and shove it back in my ankle holder. I don’t often kill outside of orders but when I do, I always make sure the person deserves it. Kneeling down, I check the man and find no coins or anything of value in his pockets. I do notice a mark on the back of his hand. A brand that is at least a few days old, an uppercase ‘r’ and a lowercase one. A rapist who doesn’t care how old his target is. This was a worthy kill and in the space of minutes I’ve made the world just a little safer.