4: Kill Order 1xxx.

SADIE.

Love?

The most misused word. A word that invokes unnecessary bondage and responsibility. Might be  hypocritical of me to say it since my drive to every successful kill and being the best agent in the organization is the LOVE I have for my sister. 

What is the very point of getting into something more when nothing lasts forever? Why waste so much time falling in love and trying to please a partner in the name of love? Why are people willing to get married with the intention of starting a family? Children are great, but why bring them into chaos and also create a weakness for one’s self? Say they were unbreakable before, now with just a mere threat to their lives the parents switch to more than a broken glass.

“Get out.” I say as calmly as I can let out, my head is currently like it is about to split apart. 

“Sadie, please.” Matt pleads.

“Get out.” I can feel myself twitching from my irritation, but one more credit to the list of too many things I can do is control.

“You are one hard human. I just gave you the best head. You were moaning so high. I served you well without a care for my own release even though I wish to get it from you so bad. I am trying to fix you. I know it will be a complete waste of effort to try to fix you. You are way past fixing, but I know as long as you have your heart still beating and blood still running through your veins, you are capable of feeling more than rage and hatred.” He replies as he gets off the bed with his clothes.

“Get out!” I hate to be loud.

“I will see you again.” He replies as he adjusts his t-shirt. 

“You may see me again but make it be that I do not see you.” I respond while leaving the bed with nothing but my panties and his eyes follow my every move as I turn my bag upside down so the only four contents in it fall out. 

Picking up the lighter, and the pack of cigarettes, I pick out one and light it up as I shove it between my lips.

“The meetings? Group missions?” He asks.

I forgot to introduce Matt. He is also one of the trusted men of my Dad. An agent too who has failed six missions in his two years of working for my Father. Anyone who fails more than three missions automatically falls on my father’s blacklist but one can say he found favor in the sight of my Dad whose ruthlessness I inherited in multiple folds.

Favor in the sight of my father? I will rephrase that.

My Dad wants me married to an agent like myself. Better said, he wants me married to the son of his best friend and maybe the only reason I am keeping him around is because Matt knows we will never work out. Like he said, I am beyond repair. Man can only try to let me know he cares.

But I do not care. 

Without one more word he slams the door on his way out, leaving me to pick up the pistol and jack-knife that fell out with the lighter and pack of cigarettes. Striding to the bathroom, I stub the cigarette in water and dump it in the wastebasket. One last glance at the mirror, I hurry back to the room. 

Taking my clothes off the sofa, a whiff of my scent and Matt’s goes through my sense of smell as I wear it. One more glance to make sure this hotel room has no staff or next guest thinking otherwise, a hiss escapes my lips as I remember dumping the cigarette in the trash basket. 

Heading back to the bathroom, I take out the cigarette, flip open the closet cover, dump it there and hit the flusher as my burner phone vibrates in my pocket at the same time my main phone rings. 

My burner phone means business. My main means either my Dad, Aunt, or one of the messes I might have gotten with because I needed to calm the one between my legs. My burner phone comes first, whoever is calling can be answered later.

####

Kill order 1xxx. 

I read as I take out the other phone.

“Ignore the order text, Matt or Shemz will go. Be here now.” My father says as I press the phone to my ear on my way out.

Ending the call, I adjust my hair.

••

“Mr. Hoffman just doubled the initial amount promised and he has paid in advance.” Aunt Kitra informs me as I walk into the basement where she and my father have been waiting impatiently judging by the crease to my father’s brows and his stance of displeasure.

“I have no proper excuse for failing for the first time, but I promise this second chance will not be taken for granted,” I assure her, as well as my father.

“Tell us exactly what resulted in your failed mission. It could not have been because he is an extremely hot one.” I hate that Aunt Kitra is the only one speaking. 

His silence never really means well. 

“He had an inhuman speed.” I tell them.

“Inhuman speed?” My father finally speaks, making the rest of my words that would have let them know even the color of his eyes changed, disappear. 

“Yes, he was too fast.” I break it down like they didn't understand what I said the first time.

“Ever heard the saying: Even your best friend might not be human? You should have, it is randomly said amongst people in public because rumor has it that we have more than ten wolves in the city. Humans who shapeshift.” Aunt Kitra words release  an uncontrolled scoff from me.

“You believe that?” I ask.

“Twenty-five years ago, rumors had it that people who were not human had invaded the city. For a while people went missing only to be found cold dead with animal marks on their neck, tummy or arm some days after. Whenever it was the twentieth hour of each day, people called on their loved ones to be sure they were at home and safe. By the twentieth hour not even a soul who wants to live to see the next day would be out. It was beyond the government. They had no control until the hunters were dispersed. I was one of the hunters. In a bid to save myself, I had mistakenly used my silver ring to hit one of them across the face and that was when I realized the only thing they could and cannot heal from is silver. I told the rest of the men who were on that mission with me to retreat. 

A brilliant idea had crossed my mind and so I returned home and called on able smith men to make bullets made of silver. I then made a deal with the government. A deal that let us slide off legal reports now. With guns loaded with silver bullets, we killed what they used to call a pack. We killed more than half of them while the rest never showed up. They were fast. They had and probably still have more abilities but the eye color changes and their agility cannot be forgotten.” My Father narrates.

I hate surprises. Why has no one mentioned their existence before now? If I heard that story from someone else, I would most definitely not believe it but I might have had a tiny bit of doubt only because of the mention of eye color change when I had not said a word about it.

“In other words the Alpha Mr. Hoffman paid huge to have dead is a werewolf and he can shape shift, hence the only way I can end him is with either a bullet made out of pure silver or anything silver as long as it is pure.” I state more to myself than to either of them.

“Yes.” Aunt Kitra responds.

“He will be hosting an event like he normally does every evening preceding the new year.” My father initiates.

“This weekend?” I ask to verify.

“Yes, that is where you will take him down.” My father adds.

“I had and still have so much faith in myself. I never wear a mask except when necessary because I am too sure my target will never be able to tell a soul who I am. I did not use a mask. He has seen my face. He is probably looking for me now, so if you have those silver bullets amongst the bullets you have here in this basement. Let me complete the mission.” I say.

He has my necklace too and other than the fact that he must die because his kill has been re-ordered, he must die because I hate failure. He must die before he finds me. He must die tonight.