Romans & histoires How To Become A Trained Assassin

How pathetic. I remember the first time I made her kill someone. A smirk forms on my lips as I recall the details of the encounter. It was a life or death situation, a kill or be killed. I felt my d**k twitch threatening to bust through my zipper. The sight of her being covered in blood with scratches and bruises all over her had me rock hard. I saw her innocence leave from her eyes as she cut the man's throat and began stabbing him repeatedly. That's when I found the perfect job for her, something that would actually make her useful. Since that day, she's become my personal assassin. A great one, too.

But the overwhelming need to see my twin again was so intense that I had to look for him. As it turned out, my mother was right. Our father had trained him to be an assassin since he could walk. He had tattoos of tallies of the many people he had killed and they were ranging in the mark of hundreds of thousands. Those tallies covered his entire back to the point that he didn’t have space for more. My mother was afraid he would turn me into a killer, but as soon as she saw the money that was coming in, we both agreed that was a sacrifice we both needed to make.

He was cursing when he found out that there were at least ten hackers that were hired just to attack their training outlet. There were a few on-train agents that had been hurt. No one was reported to be down. Though those in training were still far from what agents are, they still knew how to protect themselves. Their training was like the training of assassins. That way, they could compete with anyone.

I just let it sit there, grounding me. I walked in alone. Inside, voices echoed. Rough laughter. The clink of bottles. Careless, arrogant men who believed they were untouchable. They hadn’t noticed me yet. These were well known assassins. Men who killed for money, for pride, for the thrill of it. Names whispered in the underworld. Faces people feared. But no one knew what I used to be. No one knew that before the suits, before the boardrooms, before the empire, I was trained to kill. I was once in the military, forged in discipline, strategy, and blood. I was not just cold and ruthless. I was precise.

“Ah, dear niece, so this is what an average day in the life looks like… waltzing with your kill and staring right into their eyes right before you snuff the light out of it… brilliant!” It was obvious he wanted a reaction out of her, and on a very good day, he would have gotten nothing, but today wasn’t exactly going as planned for the plus-sized assassin. Barbara moved with a speed that would have stunned the girl she used to be. In one fluid motion, she was behind him. She didn't bother shedding the server's jacket; she simply reached beneath it. The cold steel of a ceramic knife was pressed firmly against the pulse point of his neck before he could say another word.

A lot of these items I've never even seen before, which is disappointing, as all we had growing up to train on were each other, nature, a few weapons, and wounded wolves. Pulling myself back into gear, I needed to focus. I have anywhere between an hour and a half to two hours to make myself look and act as a typical weak human female and not as one of the human's most elite, deadliest assassins. Rolling my shoulders back, I felt some of the tension ease away that had been rapidly building in my muscles. Every instinct in me was telling me this was a bad decision to even be in this gym, but what other option did I have? They've made it clear to us, even before we arrived, that we didn't get a

James walked inside and said, “You’re free to leave now. Go back and regain control of the Dark Castle. If necessary, train up stronger assassins.” Blake met his eyes with a Cheshire grin. “I use vicious methods to train assassins, you know. They’re forced to kill one another until only the strongest remains. Are you sure you want me to train more of them? You’ll be forcing me to commit a crime.” “Forget it then.” James waved his hand. He did not want Blake to hurt any more innocent people. After thinking for a while, he said, “I’ll put the Elite Eight under your command.”

I retorted. “There are many ways to kill. Brute force doesn’t equate to all of them, not even many. Death was my job, and I found it worked best when you had the element of surprise. Assassins prefer a silent, clean kill. Blood and gore is extra.” He tried a smile, but his eyes were far away and hollow.

“Me neither. Feels kinda unreal, right?” It did. Because for the longest time, my plan had always been simple. I was going to the University of California with Josiah. That was the dream. But dreams change. Now, Josiah was nothing more than a regret in my past. And Gerald— Gerald wasn’t mine to dream about anymore. So what did that leave me with? Becoming a full-blown assassin? It was the obvious path. The one I had been walking for years. But then—Casey’s words filled my mind.

“Back then, you had the opportunity to take Secret, but you didn’t cherish it. Do you regret it now?” Blair put the pendant around Mable’s neck. “I do regret it a bit, but not for not getting Secret. I regret not cherishing you well enough.” Mable’s lips curled up, and she reopened the photo sent by Solomon. “This brooch is the identification mark of A-level subordinates of Secret. Thus, this assassin must be from Secret. There’s no way Solomon can make him talk!” An A-level assassin meant passing the most rigorous training. Their willpower was far beyond that of an ordinary person. Even if a truth serum was used, it was impossible to force him to talk.