Meant To Be

𝐸𝓁𝒶𝓇𝒶

Two Years Prior

      It has been an absolute hell out in a storm at night, yet I push through. The rain is soaking my hair and the very clothes that I was wearing. I was hired to kill someone within an elite squad, a squad that held one of the most lethal team killers. The only name I could go off of was Wolfhound. That we all know was a callsign. Just a name earned through the number of kills and skills one holds. That night, I was unsuccessful with that kill, and I've got the scar on my side to prove it.

Present Day

       It's a late Wednesday night, and that's when I finally got the phone call. I was being hired for an elite squad. The Black Roses. Everyone on that squad was a lethal and trained killer. Everyone knew that. I reluctantly took the job, but only because the pay was pretty good. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't in any way starving or going hungry; in fact, I was doing pretty well and had a penthouse. I just took a break for a year, and now I have decided it is time to get back to work. I just let out a deep breath as I told myself that this was just going to be another gun to hire. 

      I was told that I would be picked up at a hotel, which I thought was odd, but I didn't care to argue much. I packed my personal items in a dusty purple duffle back, as well as my hair and skin care products. Even though I was trained to kill, I still cared to look decent and do what society views as more of a lady-like attitude and behaviors. I threw some of my clothes that were just everyday essentials in the duffel as well. I was told that there was a uniform at the base waiting for me, so I didn't bother much about bringing any of my tactical gear. I didn't believe in attachments; it was a silly thing that got people killed and hearts broken. The last few items I grabbed from my closet were the weapons I normally carried with me at work. My weapons of choice were simple: a dagger that tended to attach to my thigh garter, a knife at my hip at all times, and a handgun I could use when needed. 

      I locked up my penthouse with the turn of the key. No going back now. I didn't know if I would end up regretting this decision or not. It's too early to tell. I walked downtown to the hotel where I was supposed to get picked up. It only took 15 minutes until I got picked up in a black pickup. I was told by the driver assigned to me that it was supposed to be a two-hour drive to the base I would soon call home.

Two hours to rethink life decisions.

       I thanked the man driving and just sat for the two hours in silence. Looking out the window as I was about to start a new chapter.