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“There’s nothing wrong with her, she’s perfect,” I snarl, swapping my gun for a knife and pressing it against his side.
She sighs. “You think I’m perfect?” she murmurs romantically.
I roll my eyes then glare at her, but she smiles warmly as I focus back on him. “We know who you are and what you’ve done. We want nothing from you but your death. It will be a message to them.”
“What message?” he queries, even as he pales, knowing he has no way out. He tries to stand, but I push him down.
“That we are coming for them,” I answer as the music reaches a crescendo. The room is almost pitch black except for the exit signs. Every eye is on the stage except for ours as people gasp at the show.
Him? He cries out in pain as I stab him with the knife, making sure to hit many organs, including his lung. It fills with blood. He will choke on it, giving him a slow, painful death. I narrow my eyes on him.
“Enjoy the show,” I tell him as I stand, pocketing the knife. I proffer my hand to Alena. She takes it and straddles the man’s lap, leaning down and kissing his bloody, bubbling lips as he falls to the side.
“She truly is talented,” she comments, and then we leave him there with his eyes fixed on the stage where his daughter dances with such emotion. A goodbye to her lover in the story, a goodbye to her father in real life as he lies dying in the stands.
His last image is of the only woman he never abused.
Delivered by one he did and the man he ordered dead.
* * *
We leavethe theatre hand in hand. As soon as I get to the car, I strip, changing back to my tactical gear while Alena watches. She’s draped across the back seat, her legs spread as she flips through the remaining papers. Her eyes come to me every now and again.
“Who now?”
“Bessie,” is my response.
She grins and sits up, the papers drifting to the seat as she leans forward and hooks her fingers in my belt to drag me closer. The only reason I move is because I want to. I press my hands to the hood of the car as I lean down. Her mouth opens and she shifts closer, kissing the section of exposed skin between my jeans and shirt.
A shiver goes through me, and pleasure shoots down my spine until I ache to grab that teasing mouth and force it onto my cock. But Bessie is now a target, meaning she’s out in public, vulnerable. We move now or we lose her to the wind.
“Can I watch while you torture her?” she requests silkily.
I have to close my eyes before I give in to temptation. Her. “Yes,” I snarl.
“She’s the one you want most, right?” she asks as she slips from the car, pushing me back as her body slides along mine. She still has to tilt her head back to see me though. “She betrayed you, used you. Don’t go easy on her just because you think you should. She may be a woman, but she’s a fucking cunt.”
“Bitch,” I snap, grabbing her chin. “I don’t go easy on anyone. I don’t give a fuck if they have a pussy or two goddamn mythical cocks. She will pay with her screams and blood.”
Her eyes flare as she leans farther into my touch. “Good.” Her tongue licks over her ruby lips. “I can’t wait to see it. Show me the creature they all fear, show me the man even assassins have nightmares of, and after, fuck me in the carnage.”
Fuck.
