If you haven't noticed, this story has been marked as Mature. This is due to the descriptions of violence that will be included in this story. Any serious/vivid imagery will be given the proper trigger warner. Please do not read if you feel uncomfortable.
_
[WILLIAM]
⑅
THE REASONABLE CHOICE WOULD BE TO KICK THE DOOR DOWN.
Her little stunt put me in a position of severe alarm, and all I can think about is killing her myself. She's incompetent and stubborn. Just thinking about her smug face on the other end of the door makes it oh, so, much worse.
I can't wrap my head around it. Women get easily attached—at least in my experience, when I can't get them out the door after a meaningless one-night-stand—and yet she's the complete opposite. She refuses to have anything to do with me. I'm here to make sure she doesn't die, and yet she continues to go about her silly, little, life without an actual concern in that brain of hers.
But I can't kick the door down. Not without a reason. I'm the 'chauffeur' (which was a horrible lie, by the way, considering we walked here) and if I blasted into the apartment while she was in no serious danger, I'd look insane. I'm supposed to go undetected, not be the center of attention.
"Bloody pain in the head," I hissed under my breath, stalking away from the doorway.
I wasn't going to let her stubborn ignorance get in the way of my job, however. No matter how little I genuinely cared for her well-being. I only wanted to save my reputation from the shambles I previously left it in. Scanning the penthouse lobby, I searched for anything useful.
It was a small, hexagonal room, with the elevator on the opposing side of the apartment door. By the back wall was a small couch, and in front of that was a glass coffee table. It was hard to miss the ugly, creme, floral wallpaper plastered around me.
My attention was quickly drawn towards the window, where I could see a brilliant view of the Paris skyline. Unfortunately, I couldn't see into the apartment. My sight on Lovey was completely eradicated.
On second thought, maybe I should break the door down.
Slipping my fingers into the back pocket of my trousers, I pulled out a small trinket gifted to me from my employers. Every assassin took a course on how to get through a door: knocking it down, swinging it open while intruders were inside, using the door as a weapon, or in my case, picking the lock. It was a useful trick in most cases.
Kneeling down in front of the large, white door, I leveled my eyes through the indent in the handle. This shouldn't take too much time—Mori Fauna-Blanc owned a cylinder lock, the easiest kind to pick. All I had to do was place the pin through the hole, apply pressure, and twist it like a normal key would. Easy.
Or perhaps I spoke too soon.
While my attention was focused on the handle in front of me, I heard the sound of the elevator grinding to a stop from behind me. A soft ding! rang out into the air. My body tensed up as I heard the metal doors slide open, creaking against the walls, as someone stepped into the penthouse lobby.
Foam Crepe shoe soles. Weighty on step. Most likely a man.
I narrowed my eyes, coming to a still as thoughts raced through my brain. Mori Fauna-Blanc was approaching their 30s, and had no record of a spouse or partner. Entertaining a man was highly unlikely for them. If the figure behind me was here on business terms, that would be unlikely as well—it's not appropriate to talk 'business' at someone's house. Family is irrelevant; Mori's relations are back in Kensington.
Point-Blank: this man isn't here for Mori.
He's here for Lovey.
Slowly rising to my feet, I swiftly tucked the pick back into my pocket, turning around to face the unknown intruder. The importance of going undetected in this business is to make sure I'm not a target as well (something Lovey can't seem to understand).
The man wouldn't know why I was here. Perhaps I was simply tying my shoe after leaving Mori's apartment. I began to walk towards the elevator.
As I passed the man, I got a good look at his features. Bearded, tall, purposefully wearing unpatterned clothing so as to go unnoticed in crowds. As he passed, I gave him a polite nod. He didn't give me one, but looked away with a grunt. Once he was behind me, I glanced at his feet—walked with his toes pointed in. Weak knees. Adequate.
I pressed the elevator button. I watched him reach for the door. I felt the anger start to boil into my blood, adrenaline coursing through me like I was drunk on it. The last time I fought was on the train ride here. I didn't expect the next time to be so soon.
But no one touches Lovey. I'm going to make sure of that.
Cracking my knuckles against the palm of my hands, I began to run towards the oblivious man in front of me. The thud of my boots against the marble ground was muffled by the patterned rug, but it was still loud enough to notify my target. He turned his head right as I reached him.
Grabbing his neck with my palm, I kicked the sole of my boot into the dip of his right knee, shoving him towards the ground. I was right. He fell to the ground like a rag-doll.
"Who?" The man grunted out, his panicked voice sounding choked, "Who are you?"
I bent down over him, gritting my teeth. "None of your business."
He swung his fist towards my jaw, but I swiftly dodged out of the way, yanking him up but the collar and beginning to drag him towards the elevator doors. I heard the metallic ding! ring out as the metal panels slid open. The man struggled, hands grasping at my own and teeth baring as if he wanted to bite—damn child's play.
Hoisting him up, I slid my pocket knife out of the hidden sheath on my left thigh, holding it up to his throat. He was dangled in the direct middle of the doors, with exactly 27 seconds before they closed and crushed him in half.
"Why are you here?" I spat out.
The man tried to wrestle out of my grip. He didn't say anything.
"Open your bloody mouth, or I'll cut it off," I hissed, "why are you here?"
My threat seemed to take the shape of terror in the man's eyes, and it was clear he wasn't the real issue. He was weak. Too easy. It should have come as a shock to think that one of Lovey's attackers would have used the front door to get to her, but I was too focused on taking him down to think through regimens. He wasn't here for Lovey.
He was just a distraction.
If there was panic inside of me, I didn't let it show. Sheathing my knife, I shoved the man back into the elevator, the doors closing at the perfect time. Now that he was out of my hands, I had to think quickly. I couldn't tell how much time I'd lost.
The Ash-Duo was in the center of this. They wouldn't send a hitman into plain sight; they typically used crowds to blend in, or high spaces to go undetected. There were no crowds here. We were high up, however. If they had to get into Mori's apartment to get to Lovey, they would only have a few options. Plant themselves beforehand, or...
Hell.
The windows.
I began to hear a clock ticking in my mind. The kind I used to hear in training: metallic, thin, ear-piercing. It was a countdown. You never knew when it'd come to a stop, so you'd find yourself praying you'd finish the job before it was too late. I could hear that ticking now.
Tick, Tick, Tick.
Kicking the door down was easy enough. From down the hallway, I spotted the figures of Mori and Lovey in the living room, heads turning towards me in alarm. I only had my eyes on the girl in the tweed suit, horrification painted on her face as I ran towards her.
Tick, Tick.
I can't touch her. I have to get her out of here. She looks scared and it's pissing me off, because she wouldn't be scared if she had just listened to me. I wouldn't be trying to figure out how to pin her to the ground without laying a single finger on her either.
Tick.
Hurtling myself towards where she sat, I let myself crash onto the side of the chair, knocking it onto its side. Lovey tumbled out of it, smacking onto the floor. She let out a cry of pain. A twang of disappointment ached in my chest when I heard the sound escape her lips, but it wasn't enough to trump the relief when I realized I'd made it in time.
The sound of the gunshot was more of a sting.
A faint whisper against the wind, and almost unnoticeable if it wasn't for the window splitting into tiny glass shards. Mori and Lovey were screaming, even though neither of them were hit. I'd gotten Lovey out of the way, and Mori wasn't the one being targeted. The only thing they'd have to deal with was a hefty renovation bill.
I looked back at my mission, watching as she scrambled for bearing amidst the shock. She looked like she'd died, even though I stopped her from such a fate. Our eyes met. For a moment, it seemed like she was begging for a sense of calm.
Unfortunately, that was something I couldn't give her. I could only shake my head, lowering my voice as I gave her the next instruction:
"Get up and run."