I FEEL LIKE a shooting star. Like I'm just passing by, eventually bound to blow up. From a distance, there pretty to look at; they shine brightly, sparkling against the dark night sky, when in reality, what people don't see is that it's just one big ball of dust, rocks and all the other unwanted debris from space.
We watch shooting stars fly by, there nice in the moment, but gone far to early and forgotten about soon after.
I'm awfully scared that'll be me. Gone and forgotten about.
But there's nothing I can do about it now. Not while I'm sitting on the ledge of a building watching them fly by while my soon to be killer stands in the shadows, watching me.
All I can go is make an effort to remember each star that passes by in the short time I have left; just like I hope someone will do for me.
Twelve hours earlier...
My phone continues to ring like it has off and on for the past ten minutes, annoying me too no extent. I cant even have one day off.
I finally pick up, resisting the urge to throw the stupidly loud devise across my room. "What?" I growl, voice still raspy with sleep.
I recognize the poorly distorted voice in a second, my exhausting not slowing me down. "It's been two weeks." The voice states, "why is the girl still alive?"
I roll my eyes, "two weeks is a very short time span to execute a discreet and successful hit." She could've been dead within two days. I had her. Alone. All I would've had to do was shoot. But with that look in her eye, the one that was so sad... I almost felt bad for her.
Almost. But I didn't. It was pathetic.
I don't tell my client any of this.
"I want her dead by the end of the month."
I chuckle, "you're paying my minimum fee, she'll die when I get the chance to kill her."
"Exactly!" They shout, causing the voice distortion to crack and cut, "I'm paying you one million dollars to kill her. Not become her best friend."
I scoff, usually I wouldn't converse on the phone anymore then absolutely necessary, but I'm intrigued. "What's so important about this girl anyway? She seems irrelevant." She seems like one of the sweetest girls I've ever met.
"She killed my wife."
My eyes widen, Lacey killed someone? "Mayella Moore killed your wife?"
"If my beautiful Melanie can't be here then neither should she. She's a waste of space either way." They scoff.
I nod, still a little in shock, though the person on the other end can't see me. "It'll be done soon." Then I hang up, now fully awake.
The drive to the club is short, only a block and a half. When I enter, Micah and Nisha's heads snap to mine. Nisha's eyes fill with sympathy, or hurt, or regret. I cant tell; while a look of pure hatred adorns itself on Micah's features.
Nisha looks back and fourth between the blond and me, her eyes widening before she steps in front of Micah, shaking her head. "No, No Micah don't—" she doesn't get to finish her argument because he pushes past her, stalking over to me.
What the hell?
"You bastard!" He yells, shoving my chest. "Maya? Really? Out of all the people you could take a hit on, you chose Maya!?"
Realization barely has the time to cross my features before his fist is crossing my face. It barely hurts, considering I'm twice his size, but I bring a hand up to my jaw anyway.
He upset, he doesn't need his ego bruised too.
"Ella Marie is Maya?" Nisha asks from her former position, only now she's facing me, though the question is rhetoric. "Why didn't you tell me?"
I shrug, ignoring the fuming Micah next to me, "I only found out a while ago."
Micah, still enraged, brings a fist up to punch me again, only this time I catch his wrist, turning my attention to him. "Try that again and you can die with your little girlfriend."
"What the fuck is wrong with you, man?" He asks, shrugging off my arm and taking a step back, pointing at me. "That girl is one of the sweetest most kindhearted people in the world." He scoffs, "and you wanna stab her like some druggie in an ally way?"
I chuckle, though it's not funny, shoving a past him to the bar and pouring myself a scotch, "You don't think the other hundreds of other people we've taken hits on were good people? We don't ask questions. It's not our job." At least, that's what I keep telling myself. "And I didn't choose to take a hit on her."
I'm sure the other people I've killed have been nice people. Im sure they've had families and been just as perfect as her.
Or maybe they've all been shit heads.
Either way, it doesn't matter, she's a killer just like me.
And even if she wasn't, it wouldn't matter. It couldn't. I'm not supposed to think about it, I'm not supposed to feel guilty or hesitant. Im not supposed to think. I'm supposed to do my fucking job and kill her.
And that's what I'm gonna do. "She's dying tonight weather you all like it or not."
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The waitresses love drink nights at the club because it pays more. To them, it's a night like any other, but with more money, less groping, and quieter music.
To me and people like me, it's so much more. It's a night for negotiations, alliances, and most importantly, for tonight, hits.
The evening is in full swing as I sit on a round couch facing the exotic dancer, surrounded by four men. Two have women on their laps, the others have glasses of scotch.
They're discussing money and recent shipments, but I'm not listening.
My eyes are glued to Lacey all night. She seems to be finally doing fine. Or her makeup skills have improved. The smile on her face hasn't faltered once all night.
All I need is to get her alone, and I'll be done. I'll finally be able to relax.
Her short ass stands on her tippy toes to reach all the way over to the other side of the table and place down a drink. As she does, her already short skirt rises dangerously high up, exposing the back of her thighs and the bottom of her ass.
It'll be a shame to kill someone so hot.
Another man—a better man—would look away, out of modesty or some shit. But I'm not that man. I don't take my eyes off of her while I adjust myself, lifting my hips and spreading my legs to sit more comfortably.
I watch the man seated beside her, Gio, bring a hand up and under her skirt; gripping her ass. I can imagine her innocent eyes widening like they do before she drops back down to her flat feet, pulling her skirt down. Gio's hand doesn't move. The back of her head goes left and right, looking around. Her long, brown curls bounce. Lacey shuffles uncomfortably as she begins to hurriedly place down everyone else's drinks.
I have the sudden urge to go over there and rip his hand off his body.
But I don't.
Because I don't care.
I take my eyes off the situation before I begin to care about it. I focus on the blonde dancer in front of me.
I've always liked blondes. Something about them has always done it for me. Maybe it's because where I'm from, blondes are rare, or maybe I just find them attractive. I don't know, and I don't really care.
I glance back at Lacey to make sure things haven't escalated when I see her making a B-line for the change rooms—the ones no one is in.
I don't hesitate to excuse myself and follow after her, bringing my hand to my waistband and making sure my gun is still secure.
I push the door to the locker room open, step in, and look around. There Lacey stands, fixing her clothes in the mirror.
The click of the lock behind me draws her attention away from herself and onto me. My eyes meet hers in the mirror, and she smiles softly, turning around. "Killian, hi. W-what are you doing in here?"
I step further into the room and make my way to the other side where she stands. Her weary eyes follow me the whole time I walk over, my steps echoing in the otherwise silent room.
I crane my neck down to meet her eyes, giving her a once-over. She shuffles uncomfortably.
Slowly, I bring my hands to her hips, gently turning her around. The cold material of her skirt tickles my fingers. Our eyes meet in the mirror, and she gulps, fixing her posture.
Even when she stands straight, I still have to hunch over to whisper in her ear, "look at you..." I start, keeping eye contact, "in here, all alone, instead of sticking up for yourself out there like you should."
The thumb on her hip rubs small circles, pulling her closer to me. She never breaks eye contact. "Why do you let them do that to you?" I find myself questioning.
The brunette swallows audibly, "Do what?"
"You know what," I tsk, bringing my head down to the crook of her neck and placing a kiss there. "You're an innocent girl, Lacey." Another kiss, goosebumps begin to line her skin. "Men like that take advantage of women like you."
She scoffs lightly, "I am not innocent."
I chuckle softly, tuning out the soft music coming from beyond the door, "No?" I look her over again, slowly trailing my gaze back up her body until her big green eyes connect with my hooded ones once more.
She shakes her head.
"I find that hard to believe," I say, bringing her long, curled hair over her shoulder and moving my attention to the other side of her neck. "I find it hard to believe that you've shut up long enough for someone to do the things I want to do to you."
I smirk against her shoulder, where I've been licking and kissing, when I catch sight of her flushed face. "D-do to me?"
"Mhmm."
"Like what?" She asks.
I meet her eyes in the mirror, "So many things, baby. You have no idea." And it's true, she probably doesn't even know what half the things I want to do to her are.
"Tell me," she breathes, and when I take in her expression, I feel amusement line my desire. Eyes hooded over, focused on the hand that still rests on her hip drawing circles, face flushed, chest heaving.
She doesn't even know what she's feeling.
I chuckle, opening my mouth when the door bursts open. I catch sight of Micah's reflection in the mirror for a split second before Maya comes to her senses and jumps away from me, fixing her hair as Micah begins to babble; I groan. "Maya! I'm not supposed to tell you this and it's gonna sound crazy but—"
He cuts himself short when he walks further into the room and looks up, "I-Ian. What are you doing in here?"
"I could ask you the same thing," I shrug, covering up the fact that I had completely forgotten about the plan to kill her and all it took was for me to see her face.
"I was just— uhm," he looks around nervously.
God, if he wasn't one of my best friends, I'd kill him right here right now.
"Tell her whatever you want," I say, causing Maya to furrow her eyebrows as I walk toward the exit. "It won't change the outcome."
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Long ass chapter
This is my favourite chapter yet.
So sorry abt the clif hanger... no I'm not 😝 next chapter is gonna be so good!
1k reads is CRAZY. Thank you to everyone reading and voting for my story.