RAVIEL (FOURTEEN)

I stood behind the rifle, eyeing my target through the lens. He was still sitting at the dining table. Most of the plates were empty. I could be sure my target was full and satisfied.

Wasn’t I kind? I gave him a happy ending before sending him to his creator.

“Madam, don’t bend over near him.”

My index finger was right on the trigger. I timed how long it would take for my bullet to penetrate his skull. It depended heavily on the wind speed. And lucky for me, it was as smooth as a baby's bottom.

“I warned you, madam.”

Bang!

The sound wouldn't have been heard from across the building, but my bullet had hit the poor guy's skull.

The bitch screamed hysterically a second after the guy's body collapsed in front of her with brains splattered all over her face. She was completely hysterical and ran out of her room in panic, as if she saw the death reaper standing right in front of her.

I grabbed my other phone and sent a message in the chat room on my web portal. My client replied shortly after and promised to send the rest of the payment in an hour at the latest because he was in the middle of a meeting.

Okay. If he wanted to break his promise, he knew my reputation very well. So, he shouldn't have lied to me. I would try to believe him.

Honestly, I've never trusted anyone in my entire life since my father left the family and abandoned us. My teacher, who was also my uncle, taught me never to trust anyone because no one deserved my trust. Even my own uncle forbade me to trust him because the circumstances around us were changing so quickly. Friends could become enemies or vice versa, enemies could become friends. Nothing was certain in the underworld. Everything was done for personal gain.

I didn't waste time packing my things because I had to get out of this building before the police started their investigation.

My rifle turned into a medium-sized suitcase in an instant. It was one of my genius inventions. Who would have thought that a suitcase could turn into a dangerous weapon? Most of the time, I designed and created the weapons that I used to kill my targets. I reproduced some and sold them to the American government and some people abroad. But I certainly didn't sell my best work. This one weapon was only owned by me. I wouldn't be so careless as to sell this smart weapon to people who would potentially know my identity as a hitman.

After leaving my unit smoothly, I walked to the basement. I placed some bombs randomly to cars that looked interesting to me. This apartment was mostly owned by rich people. You could tell that the cars in this basement were not cheap cars. But I was sure they wouldn't lose anything if I blew up one of their sports cars. They could buy another one in seconds after their car turned into scrap metal.

I climbed into the white sedan after throwing my suitcase into the passenger seat. It was just a regular car that I could see on the street. Law enforcement wouldn’t suspect me once I joined the other cars on the highway.

The remote for my bombs was ready in my hand as I drove out of the apartment building. There was a commotion at the hotel where the man was staying. An ambulance had just arrived and paramedics were running out in panic. Hell, as if they could save the poor man’s life, but they couldn’t.

I passed police cars after five minutes of driving north, heading towards the airport. Those bunch of idiots were going to find a lot of surprises from me. Starting with the poor man’s body, then a bunch of explosions from the basement of the luxury apartment, and they were going to get a bunch of complaints from rich people who felt their lives were in danger.

I pressed the remote in my hand without hesitation. I could imagine the cars exploding all at once and causing a scene that shook downtown Las Vegas. Too bad I wasn't there to witness the panic. What would people have thought? A terrorist attack? A suicide bombing? Or some shitty political thing that usually always takes lives when things don't go according to plan? Whatever it was, I would never be involved in that mess. Never.

I had been in the business for years. I always played it clean. I never left a single piece of evidence at the scene. The police would never get anything but disappointment because their investigations ended in dead ends. Most cases just disappear after the statute of limitations expires. The victim's family would forget about it as time went by.

Here we are. I’m back at Harry Reid on my flight to Hawaii. My phone just buzzed softly. My client just sent me a receipt for the remaining payment. I didn’t respond to his text and quickly closed the portal I’d been using to contact him for the past week. He wouldn’t have a digital trace of this job on his phone. I would be off his radar forever, unless he contacted my assistant again for another job. But I had never worked for the same client more than once. That would put my identity at risk.

Twenty-four hours in Vegas was pretty awesome. I hit the casino and won five hundred thousand dollars in a single game of poker that was almost too easy for me. Time to go back to my Claire who was waiting in Hawaii. I would be there for her as a good stepdad while she mourned her mother.

Fuck

Of all the masks I wore, this one was the one I hated the most. I would pretend to mourn Karina's death, while deep inside I was celebrating her death. My years of grudge against her were over.

Rest in peace, Mom.