Descended from two lines of assassins, Alina Istrati is one of the most prolific assassins in the world. Always taking pride in her work, the cold nature of her crimes paired with her modus operandi earned her the alias, Blackheart. A new contract that should have been a simple job proves to be more than she bargained for when she finds herself the target of the person who hired her. On top of that, she's stuck babysitting her former target, who intrigues her at every turn. Alina will be put to the test as she fights to uncover diabolical plots and uphold obligations in the assassin underworld while trying to maintain her Blackheart status around the man she was assigned to kill. Follow ADB_Stories on IG for series updates. Codename: Blackheart is the first book in the Codename trilogy.
View MoreElijah and I walk down the street arm and arm as I shove a very delicious mango mochi in my mouth. I glance to my right to see Elijah looking at me with shock on his face. āWhat?ā I ask with a mouth full of mochi. āDid you just eat the last mochi?ā I swallow whatās in my mouth and smile at him, āYup.ā āI canāt believe you,ā he says, shaking his head. āHey, you drank the last of my vegetable juice this morning,ā I remind him. āTouchĆ©,ā he concedes. We continue to walk for another block, just enjoying the nice evening air. The streets arenāt too busy, so itās relatively quiet. The peaceful stillness gives me time to think and reflect and get lost in my own thoughts. Elijahās business has been slow this month, as has mine, so weāve both had more time to spend together just enjoying each otherās company, and weāve both needed it. Especially since my last job had me hunting someone down all over France which was goddamn exhausting. After Peytonās āaccidentā, it left Elijah as the so
~FLASHBACK A YEAR AGO~ āAnyone ever tell you what a wonderful couple you two make?ā John gushes. āYou would be the first, but thank you,ā I say with a bright smile. āHonestly feels like weāve been together forever,ā Elijah coos as he kisses my temple again. Iāve lost track of how many times heās done that now. Before John can throw more compliments at our fake relationship, my phone rings. I reach out and take my phone off the coffee table. āExcuse me, I have to take this,ā I say as I get up and make my way to the balcony while Elijah watches on curiously. I close the sliding door behind me and answer the call. āItās Victor,ā I hear the voice greet. āI canāt take on another job at the moment, Iām still working on this one.ā āI wish thatās why I was calling,ā he says, his voice sounding ominous, yet filled with guilt. āThen why are you calling?ā āA letter arrived for you todayā¦ itās from The Tournament,ā he says anxiously. I sigh and lean against the rail. Fuck my luck. I glan
As I pull up to Il Segreto in my Jaguar, grab my handcrafted sterling silver clutch purse and open it to once again confirm Crimson is carefully tucked away inside. I close my purse back up, pull down my visor, and examine my makeup. My ivory skin is accentuated by my smokey black eyes with gold glitter pressed into the corner of my eyes. My lips are painted black as midnight with glitter that sparkles brighter than the stars. My black hair, which has grown exceptionally long over the past year, is up in a high, fluffy bun with tendrils coming down framing my face and hiding the faint scar that travels down the left side of my hairline. I gingerly touch the scar with my freshly manicured mirror chrome painted nails and reminisce on just how far Iāve come in this past year. ~FLASHBACK ONE YEAR AGO~ āThatās it. Weāre retiring,ā I hear my mother whisper yell in Italian. I feel myself waking up, but I canāt seem to open my eyes, but even so, I take comfort in knowing my mother is here,
I jolt awake as I feel something touch my lips. Instinctively I flinch away, thinking itās Hadleigh back for another round of torture. āItās just water,ā I hear Elijahās gentle voice say. I force my good eye open, as my other is now swollen shut. Even in this dim light I am able to make out the guilt that is all over his handsome face. I glance at the water bottle and gladly let him help me sip from it. It hurts, but I can feel how dehydrated my body is, so Iām grateful for the water. I can feel the blood drying on my skin making my flesh itch, and I have so many wounds and injuries at this point that my entire body is just raw with pain. āKeeping me alive so she can torture me more?ā I ask in a croaky voice. Each movement of my mouth makes the cuts and contusion to my face ache and sting painfully. āI never wanted this, Heart. I didnāt have a choice,ā he says, as if pleading for me to forgive him. āThereās alwaysā¦ a choice. I told you that nightā¦ all you had to doā¦ was ask for my
~ FLASHBACK A MONTH AGO~ āSo since obviously, my answer is yes to being the awesome godmother of your baby boy, howās about you give me the information I want?ā I say getting back on track while I simultaneously monitor Alec and the dickhead following me. Mikhail chuckles, āA dealās a deal. Get ready for this. Wasnāt easy to find but you came to the right place,ā he boasts. I roll my eyes, āSpit it out already.ā āSo impatient. Anyway, I ran the background on this Alec Lowell, and you were right to be suspicious. I checked all the data of these sites and all the information you found was only input into the system a month ago, prior to that none of the information on Alec Lowell existed,ā Mikhail informs me. I shake my head, āExplains the shadow and his apartment. Iām being set up.ā āIt looks that way, but I was able to run facial recognition software and though it seems like more information on your guy has been erased, they didnāt get all of it, and Iām better,ā he praises himse
Everything was peaceful and painless, and I was dreaming about the hikes I used to take with my family. The fact I was dreaming means Iām still alive and if that wasnāt proof enough, then the fact my body is shocked into a state of consciousness as I feel excruciating pain shoot through my neck, would be a dead giveaway. I feel disoriented and yet every pain receptor in my body feels like itās been amped up to a thousand, so I canāt stop the scream that escapes me. I feel something sharp in my neck and the warmth of my own blood gliding down my skin. I try to move but I instantly realise my arms and legs are bound. What hell have I woken up to now? āGot it!ā I hear a manās voice declare. He sounds American āGood, now destroy it so no one can use it to track her and find her here,ā says a womanās voiceā¦ a familiar womanās voice at that. I hear the sounds of feet shuffling against concrete and a door that needs some oil, opening and closing. Thereās an echo when the door shuts indic
Laying on the cot in the Red Room, I hold myself in the foetal position as agonising pain rips through my abdomen. I managed to stop throwing up and shitting my organs out long enough for them to bring me here and to add insult to injury, the nerve block in my feet has worn off, so right now, all I have is pain. My insides feel like theyāre constricted and on fire, my hands are throbbing painfully as I clench them into fists to fight off the pain, and my feet feel like theyāre on fire. I can feel the sweat soaking my hair and clothes and my breathing becoming more laboured by the minute. I bet Hexton was so proud of himself for putting me in here, thinking it would fuck with my head, but I barely even notice this stupid fucking Red Room because Iām distracted by pain. Iām probably going to die in this place. At this point it seems inevitable and yet Iām just not ready to give up. My parents survived hell just like this so they could come home to me, if I just give up, then theyāll be
An answer to my question is given when another man enters my room, this time pushing the most compact, futuristic electric chair Iāve ever seen. Itās really just a small seat on top of big tyres, thereās not much to it, and nowhere near as bulky or cumbersome as the kind you see the elderly use. It has a joystick control, black leather lining and white exterior. I glare at the contraption with clear disdain. Iām reduced to an electric wheelchair because they wonāt just let me go. Canāt walk or do shit, but still expected to make an appearance. Iāll be a sitting duck. Before the doctor administers the nerve block, he changes the bandages on my hands for a thinner, skin-coloured bandage, then the women help me into a one-shoulder floor-length lilac glittering sequined gown with a sweetheart bust and a slit up to my hip on my left side. Itās stunning and hugs my body perfectly. My hair is styled in a large intricate updo that appears full and voluminous while also being sleek. My nails m
I feel myself start to wake up, but I canāt seem to open my eyes. The more alert my senses become the more aware I am of the pain and heaviness radiating through my body. I feel like I was thrown off a cliff and smashed against jagged rocks over and over and over again, but thatās just my body. My feet are another story. Tears prick my shut eyes as the excruciating sensation of raw nerve endings being exposed hits me and I want to scream. The only thing stopping me is how weak I feel. I force my eyes open and thankfully am met by a dim light at the far end of the room. I can hear the sound of a heart monitor beeping its infuriating rhythm, but one that reminds me Iām alive. I see several IV bags hung up, and as I attempt to glance down I notice the oxygen mask on my face. My body is wrapped up tight in shiny silver heat sheets and blankets like a little human burrito. Everything except my feet. My feet are suspended in harnesses, covered in some kind of cream. Even from here, I can s
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