AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Idris
Three months later…
The summer breeze blows through the open front door as I paint the living room wall a deep, navy blue. My heart is slow and peaceful, my mind not on alert. I’m home, I came back… we came back here. It seemed like the right thing to do. We are close enough to the city to work, and far enough away to have the space and peace we both need to heal, to live.
She slotted right into my life like she has always been here, and we’ve been renovating ever since we got back. It turns out I have horrible taste, so she’s in charge, I’m just the muscle. The thought makes me smile as I hear her swearing at the flowers outside. She may be an excellent killer, a fucking brilliant lover, and better partner, but she doesn’t possess a green thumb. In fact, I caught her ranting at the plants last night, threatening them, when she couldn’t sleep. Even remembering it has my heart warming. She’s the only person who could ever have done that.
She was an unexpected complication. For assassins like me, she was a wrench thrown into the works. A bad move, a mistake. I know better now. She’s everything I have been looking for. I left in search of something, something I was unaware of.
It was her.
I thought I needed peace, needed the small-town life to save what was left of myself, but I was wrong. She showed me that I didn’t need to change who I am to be happy. To find peace with myself, I needed to be me, Boogeyman, a killer… to find her.
The woman who stole my heart and soul in a dungeon. Who walked through fire with me, who killed for me, with me. All this time, I thought I left to search for a place. Instead, I left to find her.
A person.
My person.
My bitch.
She sighs as she comes in, and I can’t help but run my eyes down her body. She’s been gardening all morning and is coated in a thin layer of sweat, making her now tanned skin glisten. She’s put on weight as well, and her hips and ass are my new favourite things, especially in the tiny blue shorts she’s wearing, her thick thighs rubbing together as she walks. Her feet are bare, and her hair is tied back in a red bandana. Her tits are encased in a see-through crop top, which is driving me wild, and the scar on her stomach is fully healed now, the white jagged marks proudly announcing, “Bitch.”
Fuck, she makes me so hard. How can one person be so perfect? She notices me staring and grins. “Want to do another kind of work out, big guy?” she purrs. I drop the brush and advance on her, hunting her with a grin as she laughs before backing up and turning. “Gotta catch me first, assassin!”
With that, she turns and races away, not fake running to be caught. No, she fucking sprints, leaping over boxes and furniture. Snarling, I burst into action, chasing her. She makes it out of the backdoor, doing a leap roll, and is on her feet in an instant, but I’m too fast.
She can never escape me. She’s my eternal prey.
I grab her and haul her over my shoulder and back into the house, kicking the door shut as I slam her into the wall, rip her shorts open, and shove my hand inside to cup her wet pussy. She groans, wrapping her legs around my waist as her hands grip my face and her lips smash into mine. She bites and licks, giving as good as she gets.
Just like she did from the start. Just a voice through a wall. Now I can’t live without her. Not that I was living before her. No, I was surviving, waiting for her to explode into my life. Tearing my mouth away, I rest my forehead against hers, breathing heavily as I look into those golden eyes. They were once filled with such anger, but now they are filled with love, happiness, and determination.
Purpose.
She might think I helped save her, but in reality, she saved me.
She brought me back from the brink, she gave me a life.
She gave a killer a heart.
“Fuck me,” she demands, and I do as I’m told, having her screaming in no time.
* * *
Alena
The grave protrudesfrom the ground before me. There are no flowers, no well wishes, or other signs anyone has been here. As if the grave is forgotten, as if she never existed. No one remembered her, no one cared.
Alena Shaw.
That’s it, my name with the date. I stand before it, feeling almost sad. I worked so hard in my life, and I thought I lived it to its fullest, but I guess you never really know who will be there when it gets hard or who will remember you.
At least I still have a chance to make a difference. That Alena is dead, and in her place is a stronger, more confident, happier—and yes, more scarred—warrior version. And with my assassin at my side, I can do anything. I can make this world mine, and I know I’ll never be alone again.
He’ll remember me, he’ll care.
