kind of wish I wasn’t so whiny about the separation now.
I toss the mug into the drainer to wash later and pad to my bedroom. Laying down in the darkness, all I can think about is a young boy without his parents.
I clear my throat and shoot a request up to the Big Guy. I’m not a religious person, but I pray most nights if I’m not too tired. I think Alistair deserves a little shout out tonight.
“Keep him safe,” I whisper before my eyes fall shut and I tumble into sweet sleep.
Chapter 12
A listair
When it comes to women, I usually steer clear. I learned quite early on in life that people can leave suddenly. Death is the only certainty. It is better to be prepared for it, than to believe it is somehow out of reach.
It was why I accepted the missions and exterminated the targets. It was why, for a time, I saw nothing wrong with my decisions. I was meeting a need, supplying my skills, and making good money along the way.
Two years ago, I was a trigger-happy, killing machine. I jumped at a chance to go on missions and broke away from the Brotherhood to fulfill my insatiable need to kill. I felt privileged to roam on my own.
All I had to do was throw a knife, shoot a gun, drain poison into a drink. I was Death’s messenger and I felt no remorse for my actions. Only the strong will survive in this world. I was determined to be the strongest.
Until I realized that I was not. I realized that I had become, in truth, the weakest version of myself. The assassin’s league was all I had known, all that made sense to me. Yet it was a shallow existence filled with paranoia and mistrust.
It was then that I gave it all up, escaped to the recesses of the world to try and forget. I had suddenly found my conscience and the weight of each of my kills kept me from peace.
I was destined to die by the very sword that I had lived by, and yet the burden of what I had done was draining the life out of me.
I am a coward. I accept this, understand that in the eyes of everyone but Damien, Tatum and the Caribbean Brotherhood, I am a disgrace to the league.
Shadow may be anyone, but if he succeeds in his plot of vengeance, he acts for assassins everywhere, for the families of those I’ve slain, for the side of justice.
We live by the sword. We die by the sword. No matter how deeply we regret all the fathers, brothers, and sons we have taken.
These are the thoughts circling in my mind as I prepare for my outing with Kendall. They are sobering reflections. I have serious doubts even as I climb into my rental car. Kendall is a settling down kind of woman. She deserves someone who can be that man for her.
I am the farthest thing from that man.
And yet, I don’t press the brakes. I don’t turn the car around. Because I am as selfish as I am cowardly. I am drawn to Kendall Villanueva by a force not even I can understand. Staying away from her would be too self-less and I am not that good of a man.
The highway is relatively traffic-free as I drive down the lanes of the brightly lit city. I asked Kendall to choose the restaurant, since I’m not too familiar with the established eateries in the city. Assassins stay low. Flaunting our presence in well-known restaurants is not our style.
Kendall decided on Paparrazi’s . I’ve passed the establishment many times so I park before the box-shaped, ivy covered building in record time. Gravel crunches beneath my feet as I exit the car and shrug the flaps of my blazer properly unto my shoulder.
I paired the blue jacket with a white polo and black jeans. Earlier in my hotel room, I grabbed a bunch of clothes that seemed to match and threw them on. I nursed second thoughts about my appearance several times before I walked out of the suite.
If Damien could see me now, he would nag me to no end and it would not be unmerited.
I’ve cut mercenaries down with a sharp dagger and a flick of my wrists. Driven warriors to their knees with the accuracy of my shot. Dragged mob bosses to the
I toss the mug into the drainer to wash later and pad to my bedroom. Laying down in the darkness, all I can think about is a young boy without his parents.
I clear my throat and shoot a request up to the Big Guy. I’m not a religious person, but I pray most nights if I’m not too tired. I think Alistair deserves a little shout out tonight.
“Keep him safe,” I whisper before my eyes fall shut and I tumble into sweet sleep.
Chapter 12
A listair
When it comes to women, I usually steer clear. I learned quite early on in life that people can leave suddenly. Death is the only certainty. It is better to be prepared for it, than to believe it is somehow out of reach.
It was why I accepted the missions and exterminated the targets. It was why, for a time, I saw nothing wrong with my decisions. I was meeting a need, supplying my skills, and making good money along the way.
Two years ago, I was a trigger-happy, killing machine. I jumped at a chance to go on missions and broke away from the Brotherhood to fulfill my insatiable need to kill. I felt privileged to roam on my own.
All I had to do was throw a knife, shoot a gun, drain poison into a drink. I was Death’s messenger and I felt no remorse for my actions. Only the strong will survive in this world. I was determined to be the strongest.
Until I realized that I was not. I realized that I had become, in truth, the weakest version of myself. The assassin’s league was all I had known, all that made sense to me. Yet it was a shallow existence filled with paranoia and mistrust.
It was then that I gave it all up, escaped to the recesses of the world to try and forget. I had suddenly found my conscience and the weight of each of my kills kept me from peace.
I was destined to die by the very sword that I had lived by, and yet the burden of what I had done was draining the life out of me.
I am a coward. I accept this, understand that in the eyes of everyone but Damien, Tatum and the Caribbean Brotherhood, I am a disgrace to the league.
Shadow may be anyone, but if he succeeds in his plot of vengeance, he acts for assassins everywhere, for the families of those I’ve slain, for the side of justice.
We live by the sword. We die by the sword. No matter how deeply we regret all the fathers, brothers, and sons we have taken.
These are the thoughts circling in my mind as I prepare for my outing with Kendall. They are sobering reflections. I have serious doubts even as I climb into my rental car. Kendall is a settling down kind of woman. She deserves someone who can be that man for her.
I am the farthest thing from that man.
And yet, I don’t press the brakes. I don’t turn the car around. Because I am as selfish as I am cowardly. I am drawn to Kendall Villanueva by a force not even I can understand. Staying away from her would be too self-less and I am not that good of a man.
The highway is relatively traffic-free as I drive down the lanes of the brightly lit city. I asked Kendall to choose the restaurant, since I’m not too familiar with the established eateries in the city. Assassins stay low. Flaunting our presence in well-known restaurants is not our style.
Kendall decided on Paparrazi’s . I’ve passed the establishment many times so I park before the box-shaped, ivy covered building in record time. Gravel crunches beneath my feet as I exit the car and shrug the flaps of my blazer properly unto my shoulder.
I paired the blue jacket with a white polo and black jeans. Earlier in my hotel room, I grabbed a bunch of clothes that seemed to match and threw them on. I nursed second thoughts about my appearance several times before I walked out of the suite.
If Damien could see me now, he would nag me to no end and it would not be unmerited.
I’ve cut mercenaries down with a sharp dagger and a flick of my wrists. Driven warriors to their knees with the accuracy of my shot. Dragged mob bosses to the
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