2

Levi

The darkness looms over the sky, stretching endlessly above me. Stars twinkle faintly, scattered across the night like tiny diamonds.

I stand in the parking lot, half-hidden by the dimness, my eyes locked on the scene folding before me. My next victim, unaware of the fate that awaits him, mingles with the guest in a hotel lobby, a pleasant smile plastered on his face as he exchanged polite words and handshakes.

I wasn’t wrong when I said he was ordinary, just a business man struggling to keep the few millions he has.

Each passing guest greets him, a warm smile plastered on his face, some wider than others.

They see a man of influence, moving through the room with ease. But I see something else entirely— a target, a life about to be snuffed out, the thought of it sends a rush down my spine.

I glanced down at his attire, the black tuxedo perfectly tailored to fit him, the fabric smooth and luxurious against his skin. The red shirt underneath feels like a deliberate choice, the vibrant color bold against the dark suit, and it reminds me of the blood that will soon be spilled, that will stain my hands before the night is over.

“Welcome Mr…” he begins, stretching his hand to me. An unwise decision, I think, as I glance at his extended hand- a gesture to show trust, to form a connection. It's a pity he’s just offered his hand to The Devil, to the very man who will soon be taking his last breath.

“Levi” I answer, my voice is calm, controlled, as I grasped his hand in mine. The contact is brief, but it’s enough to have his face imprinted at the back of my mind.

I feel his grip tighten slightly, a friendly gesture, all I can think about is how easy it would be to end it right here, right now. Just one twist, one movement, and everything would be over.

But I don’t, I keep my expression neutral. There is no fear in his gaze, no hint of suspicion— just a polite greeting, an innocent exchange.

For now, he sees nothing but another guest, another face in the crowd.

A young man walks up to him and whispers in his ears, I watch him disappear into the hotel within a minute.

Three men walk heavy behind him, each dressed in black suits and combat boots, their presence is significant. They move with purpose, their eyes scanning through the room with vigilance, ensuring they no one gets too close.

I blend into the crowd, my steps intentional as I make my way through the hotel.

The purple drapes hang elegantly from high ceilings, their rich adding a touch of grandeur to the space.

Waiters glide smoothly between guests, each carrying a tray of fine crystal glasses filled with deep red wine. The offer the drinks with practiced smiles, as they maneuver through the attendees.

The guest are seated in a round table draped in white linen, the air filled with the soft murmur of voices and the clinking of glasses.

I am never one to be found in such a crowd place.

A glass of wine in my hand, I retreat to a secluded corner, where the shadows are deeper and the noise of the room fades to a distant hum. From here, I can watch without being watched, a ghost among the living. Gossip flows freely, names are dropped with the ease of old friends, introductions are made—the next future generation, already eager to climb the ladder of success.

These men, with their heads held high and their arms draped possessively around their women, are the epitome of power and confidence or that’s what they think. Their smiles are broad, their laughter loud, but there’s an arrogance beneath it all.

I watched my target head towards the podium at the center of the hall. He cradles a bottle of wine in his hand, his fingers wrapped around the neck. As he steps onto the stage, all eyes turn to him, and the room falls into a respectful silence.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” his voice booms through the room, commanding immediate attention. “Thank you so much for being here for the launching of our new Hotel. I have worked relentlessly on this project for two years, and I must say, I feel thrilled to have brought it to success.”

He smiles,

“I would like to thank everyone who has made this project a reality—my investors, Mr. John, Mr. Brett, the workers—and not to forget my beautiful wife, who stood by me through it all.”

He pauses, his gaze shifting to the front row, and I already know what’s coming next. “Honey, can you stand up and let them see you?”

There’s a ripple of anticipation in the room as all eyes turn toward the front. And then, she rises—a woman in a sleek black dress, her head high in composure. The moment she stands, my breath catches, and my hand tightens around the stem of my wine glass.

My eyes instantly widen as she appears on the screen, the camera capturing her every detail. Her long, white hair cascades down her back, stopping just at her waist, a stunning contrast to the dark fabric of her dress. The soft waves of her hair seem to glow under the lights, each strand catching the subtle shimmer of the room, as if she were illuminated from within.

But it’s her eyes that strike me the hardest—blue, impossibly blue, like the clearest ocean under a midday sun. They shine with a light that’s both piercing and warm, a gaze that seems to reach out and pull you in. And then there’s her smile, radiant and utterly captivating, a smile that could stop you in your tracks. It’s the kind of smile that could disarm you, that could make you forget the world around you, even if just for a moment.

For a second, I forget where I am, forget the reason I’m here. Her beauty is like a force of nature, a tsunami that hits you unexpectedly, leaving you breathless and unsteady.

The room erupts into applause, the guests clearly as taken with her as I am.

Gorgeous.

She was fucking gorgeous. The moment she stood up, it was like the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving me with nothing but the sight of her to fill my lungs. My fingers tapped lightly against the rim of the glass, a nervous habit I hadn’t noticed until now. I held my breath, anticipation coiling in my chest, waiting—hoping—for her to turn around. But she didn’t. Not yet.

The black dress clung to her body like it had been made for her alone, hugging every curve, every line, as if the fabric itself was in awe of what it adorned.

How was it possible that a woman like her could end up with a man like him? The thought burned in my mind as I watched them. He was nothing—a dwarf compared to the sheer magnitude of her presence. She was the definition of a fallen angel, except that there was nothing diminished about her beauty.

But she didn’t turn. She stayed facing forward, her profile just out of reach, leaving me aching to see her fully, to let my eyes trace the lines of her figure, to memorize the dimple right above the v-shaped line of her dress. My hand tightened around the glass, the cool surface pressing into my skin as my fingers itched to do something—anything—to bring her closer, to make her turn, to finally see her with my own eyes instead of through the lens of a camera.

The thought of her, so close yet so untouchable, made my pulse quicken. It wasn’t just attraction; it was something more dangerous, a need to possess, and it was driving me mad.

More introduction goes on, I watch him wrap his arm around her waist walking her from one guess to another, I spot about ten men in different position, their keen interest on him making sure he was watched at all times.

Will that jeopardize my mission, hell no. They are already dead men but she, damn. She distract every part of my being. She was like a fucking art sculpture brought to life, molded and crafted in ways that could turn me on.

It’s been an hour since I have been looming in the darkness of the corner, she gets closer to it before he pulls her away from the row to another.

I step away from the shadows and into the light, my eyes locked on them as I close the distance between us. Two tables away, the guests around me glance up in confusion, But I don’t care. None of them matter—not now. There’s only one thing in my sight, one thing that consumes my focus entirely.

They’re taking their time, every second dragging out like an eternity, until finally, they reach my table. He steps forward first, his hand outstretched and a polished smile on his face. “Mr. Fleek,” he introduces himself.

“Mike,” the man responds, his tone flat, disinterested. He barely spares a glance for Mike, his attention shifting quickly to his wife beside him.

Mike’s hand hovers briefly in the air before he pulls it back, nodding politely. “I believe you’ve already met my wife,” he says, his voice carrying a note of pride that irritates my nerves.

Fleek’s smile doesn’t falter as he turns to her, “Oh yes, I have,” he says, his voice dipped in lust.

She simply smiles and stands there, her presence known, effortlessly holding their attention without saying a word.

I’m closer now, close enough to see the slight lift of her chin, the way her eyes flicker with something almost imperceptible as she watches Fleek pull his hand away.

Everything around me fades as I keep my eyes pinned on her every act.

But she doesn’t notice me, not yet. And that’s fine. I’ll let this moment play out, let her remain unaware of how close I am to turning her life upside down. After all, I didn’t step into the light to be ignored. Not by her. Not by anyone.They slowly walk away from my table and I gail from within.

Does she think she can ignore me like that.

If she doesn’t want to see me then I will make sure she does, even if I spend the whole night doing that. She will see me because I am soon going to be the only man in her life.

I sight Mike getting called off and he escapes into the corridor, now was the perfect time to time to attack yet I was more smitten by her, she walked right past me. Her walk is mesmerizing—each step deliberate, her hips swaying gently from side to side, the black dress clinging to her. I got captivated, as she glides across the floor, my desires impossible to ignore.

And then there’s the scent—her perfume, intoxicating as much, lingering in the air long after she’s passed. It’s a scent that draws you in, that makes you want to close your eyes and inhale deeply, to drown in it. It’s a scent that’s defying, because it distracts, it pulls you away from everything else, and right now, it’s pulling me away from my purpose.

I’ve never deviated from a target before, never let anything sway my focus. But this is different. She’s different. I’m willing to take that risk, with not a care in the world where it takes me.