Protection

Chapter 9

Am I really going to abandon her though?

I know the answer: I have to.

And that truth hurts. I should never have gotten this friendly with her. I can't get involved any more than I already have.

I will have to let her go sooner or later, so I better start distancing myself now. Before it is too late to turn back.

xXxXx

Dauntless is less lively than it was the last time I was here.

It is located underground in a cavern, essentially, though the smooth, white stone that makes up the walls and floor makes it seem like a quarry instead; either way, I can usually hear the echoes of laughter or shouting or sparring. However, this time everything seems silent. The place is practically abandoned, and I only see a couple people mulling around on the lower floor.

The walk to Max's office on the stone path causes an feeling of inferiority to wash over me. He can tend to be intimidating, but I have to lie convincingly, so I better get my nervousness under control.

Straightening as I knock on the heavy door of his office, I hear a gruff voice call, "Come in," a moment later.

I turn the door handle and step inside. Max is a middle-aged man with dark skin that sags in some places, so he always seems tired, but even then I can tell that he looks more exhausted than usual judging by the bags under his eyes. In some ways I feel bad for him, but he does willingly hire assassins and hackers and spies, so my sympathy for him does not extend far.

"Four," he greets. "Have a seat."

Following his order, I take the seat across from him. He has papers and files spread out across his long, wooden desk. I hope none of them are mine because there is something I need to do.

"So, you got my email, I assume?" Max leans back in his chair and laces his fingers together on the desk. "And you're here to give me an explanation?"

I nod. "Yes, sir," I say. "I am having a few problems completing my task, and it may take longer than I thought."

Pausing, I try to act like I am hesitant to tell him, like I am worried he will get angry at me because of my inability to do my job. I used to look up to him a lot, and I saw him as a father-figure for a while, but that time has passed. He doesn't know that though, so I can use it to my advantage and act like the more timid nineteen-year-old I was when I was first brought in.

"There are too many people around. Politicians and witnesses are in and out of the house every day, and my target is almost never alone. She constantly has friends over and leaves the house on a regular basis."

He hums in understanding. "That does make things difficult. But is there really no time of day that you can kill her? Like I said earlier, you are my best assassin, Four. Surely you can find a way around this."

Cue the sob story. Lowering my head, I sigh to let him know that there is something I do not want to admit.

"What is it?" he asks.

I squeeze the sensitive skin in between my fingers as hard as I can, digging my nails in at the same time I bite into my cheek. Tears are summoned to my eyes as I try to think about every depressing image I can muster. Zeke losing his life to that claymore. My mother succumbing to cancer. Uriah's little siblings starving. More dead bodies...

"Sorry, I..." I wipe a—kind of—fake tear away and blink to clear my eyes in less than a second. I don't want to overdo this. I was never one to cry, let alone in front of people, but I have to show that I am affected by this. "You know how my mom is in the hospital being treated for cancer?"