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She probably sees it in my eyes. The way I'm irrevocably in love with Killian, but she can't see Killian's expression to judge accurately that it's one-sided. The way he has me clutched to his side possessively, anyone would think the same thing. That we're in love.
But I know the truth. Killian expressed to me numerous times that he didn't have room to love me. To love anyone. Killian has one purpose—to save humanity from these monsters.
Ileft my wife to study art while I went to find my new target. Nicholas Hawke. Hawke Industries provides technological advancements for aircraft to go into space. After the government failed with NASA, a private company took over and realized there wasn't shit up in space that we could use. They found technological advancement through energy sources from our planet.
The problem was that they needed to understand how to use the technology, but I did. It is why they need me, but funding it is an issue. Greedy assholes stay greedy while others suffer. I find Nicholas alone, drinking alcohol out back in the dark by the open balcony, looking over downtown.
"I thought they banned that stuff."
He turns, holding out a flask nervously toward me. Nice try. I place my hands behind my back, sliding them under to retrieve my gun, then pushing the safety off and letting it heat. "I don't drink, Hawke."
He blinks rapidly, hesitating a moment. "You know."
I do know that they are watching Lillith closely.
He sighs. "They're going to take her from you, Killian. It's only a matter of time before someone sticks their cock in her and offers her a better life than you could give her." He laughs. "Everyone wondered why her father would marry her off to you. It's kind of sick if you think about it. His daughter has to fuck a monster like you." He points at me with his hand holding the flask. A grin on his pathetic face. "The judges are on to her, you know. You're saved because of what you know and what you can provide. The technology. It's what this whole thing is about. It's nothing personal. Women are transferable. Dispensable. I'm sure you have found enough on the mainland to keep you busy, considering what you look like underneath. She's nice to look at, and I'm sure one hell of a good fuck."
My nostrils flare. "You have a hard time comprehending, Nicholas. You think because you are close to the board of the judges, and you have an in with your shit company, you can walk up and disrespect my wife and tell me you plan to fuck her."
"I do."
I pull out my gun and see his eyes widen. "You're going to kill me, Cross, because I bent your ego regarding your wife?"
I turn the gun and make sure it's on the silencer setting. "I don't have an ego, Nicholas. I have a temper when someone threatens to fuck my wife or take her from me." He takes a step backward. "See… there's no reason to have an ego."
"We can talk about this, Cross." He reaches behind him for the railing. The lights shine down on his face, which has drained of all its color. "I get that you are overprotective of her." He looks over the railing, realizing there is nowhere to go but down. He looks at the gun with the laser aimed at his face. "I didn't mean…Christ. They know who she really is, Cross." He closes his eyes. "God–"
I tilt my head to the side. "There is no God. Now open your eyes, you filthy piece of shit, and tell me again what you planned to do to my wife." I pull the trigger, watching his head inflate, then half of it implode. The sound of a beam and then mush echoes. Half his head is missing, and his hands try to grope the railing. The right eye is protruding, half hanging out like a vintage slinky. "You must have a headache." I twirl the gun, watching his head twitch. "I can tell you had a problem with your eyes when you first approached us. My wife noticed it, too." I pull the trigger again, blowing the rest of his head off into nothing. His headless corpse drummed on the ground. I tuck the gun back in my pants and walk back inside to get my wife.
The room is full of curious glances aimed my way. Women shamelessly give me suggestive looks while on their husbands' arms. My eyes scan the room in search of Lillith. I smile when I find her admiring a painting, oblivious to everyone in the room. Even the men openly stare at how breathtaking she looks in her outfit. The skirt cinches her waist, flaring out like a vintage gown of tulle and lace.
Before reaching her, I walk toward the auction table.
"Yes, Mr. Cross."
"The painting my wife is looking at."
"Yes, sir."
"Make sure I win the bid and send it to my home along with every painting she has shown interest in tonight."
"Will you and Mrs. Cross be attending the auction?"
"I'm afraid I have a prior engagement."
People will soon notice Nicholas's headless corpse outside on the balcony. The last thing I need is to ruin my wife's night.
"Of course, as you wish."
"Do you like that the painting offers a view of the future, or are you rather intrigued by the present?"
"How do you know the difference?" she asks, continuing to study the twentieth-century painting.
"Depends on the latest philosophy and science. What calls to you. What you find important.
"Isn't that interpretive to the artist? The way they see it in their eyes. Their vision."
"It only matters to who bought it. They are the ones that have to look at it."
