In The Shadows [1]

1. Sharp

A tiny bead of sweat slides down her spine, her ears filled with the drum of her own heartbeat, while she patiently hides in the shadows for her target to get close enough. Her outfit; leather jacket, gloves, and pants, provide her with the camouflage she needs to stay undetected. And around her wrist sits a silver bracelet, hiding her weapon of choice.

The moon reflects on the razor-sharp blade, the second she pulls it out.

One step forward is all she needs to slit his throat. She doesn't hesitate, her movements precise and rapid.

He drops to his knees, eyes wide open, unable to grasp what is going on while he loses blood fast. She crouches down and grabs his hair to keep his head up, looking into his eyes to witness the light leaving his pupils, a tiny smirk forming on her lips. Her free hand moves to his wrist, to feel the pulse fade with every beat of his cruel heart.

As soon as she's sure he will never hurt a girl again, she pulls a piece of cloth from her pocket to wipe the blade clean, discarding the blood-stained fabric on the ground before clicking the sharp knife back into place. The silver scorpion sits around her wrist, her deadly weapon perfectly hidden inside the piece of jewelry.

A few big strides is all it takes to get out of the alley and reach the matte black Harley waiting for her. She swings her leg over the seat, grabs the helmet from the handlebar, pushes it over her short, dark hair, and starts the engine.

She goes straight to a small cafe close by, hops off her motorcycle and walks in. She takes her gloves off to put them inside the helmet and places them on the stool next to her as she allows the sounds inside the bar to envelope her, bringing her back to the real world. Her dark-red nails tap on the wood in front of her while she waits for her drink.

The bartender grabs the bottle of Scorpion Vodka from the glass shelf behind him, puts a tumbler in front of her, and fills it with a royal amount of the clear fluid. He pushes the drink closer to her and she briefly looks him in the eye as her fingers slide around glass before downing the contents in one go.

She slams the empty tumbler on the bar, nods at the bartender, puts her gloves back on, and walks out.

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He saw her come in, the mysterious woman in her leather outfit. She visits the cafe irregularly, late at night, and always drinks one double Scorpion Vodka. She never speaks. He only heard her voice the first time she came in a few years ago.

He remembers the conversation as if it was yesterday.

«

"Good evening, what can I get you?"

She looked him in the eye with her dark brown eyes and spoke with a slightly hoarse voice. "Got any Scorpion Vodka?"

He nodded.

"Good. A double, please. And from now on you'll pour me one when I walk in. We don't talk, I drink the vodka and take my leave. Thanks."

Taken aback by her demand, he silently nodded and poured the vodka.

She held onto the glass firmly with her slim fingers before tossing the drink back, putting her gloves back on, and grabbing her helmet. After a small nod, she walked out.

»

And nothing has changed in the years she's been coming here.

He knows she doesn't want to talk but would love to learn more about her. The main reason his cafe still exists is because of the simple fact that he doesn't ask unnecessary questions though. He has a very colorful clientele and some of them have an aura that give him the creeps. But they all pay well and there's never trouble or fighting inside the cafe.

He stocks a huge collection of exotic drinks because his customers drink the weirdest things. His liquor supplier gave him a bottle of Scorpion Vodka. The guy told him to put the bottle somewhere in sight because it would suit his customers.

At the bottom of the bottle sits a little scorpion and he always looks forward to the day that the last drop gets poured out of the bottle.

She will lean on the bar and shake the scorpion from the bottle. Taking her time to look at the other costumers before she lifts the scorpion up, above her mouth, slowly tilting her head back.

And just like that, the normally noisy cafe becomes as silent as a tomb.

The smirk on her lips as she eats the softened scorpion in a packed cafe could be all the payment he needs. But she always settles the bill.

She pays for her drinks once a month and even then leaves without saying a word.

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