I watch with satisfaction as the cleaners wrap up Zephyr’s body to carry his worthless carcass out of the meeting room. The men slowly slink out one at a time, glancing at Zephyr’s face frozen and contorted in a state of agony as the cleaners zip the body bag closed. Some men’s eyes fill with contempt for their traitorous brethren, while others fill with trepidation. It’s the trepidation that concerns me. Contempt tells me they feel he got what he deserved. Trepidation means they think they could be next, and that begs the question… what have they done to make them fear such retaliation?
As the last of the men leaves the room, Dimitris walks over and places a gentle hand on my shoulder, once again giving it a firm squeeze as he looks at me with appreciative eyes.
“I know I keep giving you my thanks, but I am truly grateful for everything you’ve done,” he says with deep sincerity.
“Don’t mention it. What’s family for if not to torture and kill your enemies?” I ask playfully, earning a mild chortle from his lips.
“You truly are your mother’s daughter,” he muses.
“Something that she and my wife would take as the highest compliment,” adds my father, walking over and pulling me into a tight hug.
I smile and relax into my father’s embrace, hooking my arms under his shoulders, returning his hug as I breathe in his familiar cologne. He’s worn the same cologne my whole life, and whenever I smell it it’s as though I can feel his arms around me, and I’m immediately lulled into a cocoon of relaxation.
“Have you heard from mother?” I ask.
“She checked in just last night; she’s doing fine. She can take care of herself,” he says confidently.
I have every faith in my mother’s abilities, but she’s still my mother and so, naturally, I will always be concerned for her wellbeing. To me, she will always be my loving – though at times pushy – mother, and to my father, she will always be his beautiful, Noemi, but in our world of killers, she is neither a mother nor a wife. She is just another assassin; known only by the codename Veil. Mother’s speciality is asphyxiation, which is how she got her codename. I remember when I was young I asked her why she prefers that method since it’s slower and more strenuous. She told me that there’s no greater feeling of power than holding someone’s life in your hands and feeling the moment you bring it to an end. There was nothing sadistic about what she said, if anything, she said it with a sense of reverence. This realisation that while it typically takes two to create life, it only takes one to end it, is something that has stayed with me since.
“Any idea how much longer the job will take?” I query.
“She said probably another week, provided everything goes as planned.”
“I look forward to her return, it feels like I haven’t seen either of you in forever,” I sigh. Just like my mother, my job takes me all around the world and I’m not too grown to admit I still get homesick.
My father gives me a tender kiss on my forehead that again, puts me at ease. “We’ll make time for each other. We always do,” he promises, lifting my spirits.
“Speaking of making time, Mihalis, would you mind giving me a few minutes alone with Dasha?” Dimitris politely asks, but I can hear a slightly anxious tone in his voice, which is highly unusual for him and has me wondering what he could want to talk about.
“Not a problem.” My father rubs my back and exits the room being sure to close the door behind him.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, cutting to the chase.
The power and authority he exudes crumbles away as he slides his hands into the pockets of his slacks, and suddenly it’s as though I’ve watched one of the most powerful men I know, age rapidly.
“I was hoping you would try to talk to Athena,” he asks in a pleading tone.
I blink, surprised by the request. “Why me?”
“She won’t talk to me or Rhea. The most we get is a whispered ‘thank you’ when we bring her food, which she refuses to eat. I’d give anything to just be able to hold her and comfort her, but I can’t even do that,” he says, his eyes scrunching closed as his face fills with anguish while his hands fist in his pockets.
“She’s still not eating?” I ask in concern.
He shakes his head, “We’ve tried everything. I want to get her into therapy, but she’s not ready to be around strangers or talk about what happened. From the day she was placed in my arms, all I’ve ever wanted to do was keep her safe. I did my best to shield her from this life, and yet I failed anyway. How is it I couldn’t protect what matters most to me?” He asks, his voice cracking in despair; the sound of it splintering my heart.
I step forward and wrap my arms around him hugging him as tight as I can, “You did everything you could. You could have locked her in a padded room with no doors or windows for her entire life and they would still have found a way to get to her. That’s the nature of our world. If someone wants to hurt someone, nothing short of prison and death will stop them. This isn’t your fault,” I say, trying my best to console him.
“She’ll blame me.”
“Then let her. If she needs to use you as a punching bag until she feels strong again, let her. Her entire world has been destroyed. Some people never recover from that, but right now what she doesn’t need is your guilt or your pity. She was the one brutally raped, not you. I understand your pain, but she’s not ready to deal with yours as well as hers. I’ll speak to her, there’s something I want to give her anyway,” I say, rubbing his arms comfortingly.
“Don’t you dare give her a weapon,” he says in a threatening tone. I’m sure that scares most people, but it’s never done much for me.
“Afraid she’ll use it to take her own life?”
“Of course, I fucking am! She’s more fragile than glass. I know she barely sleeps because any time she accidentally falls asleep she starts screaming from nightmares, and so we run to her, only for her to scream more when her mother and I try to comfort her,” he says as he turns and punches his fist against the wall. Even through his shirt, I can see the tension in his back, “I would rather they tortured me to death,” he whispers.
“They are torturing you to death,” I say bluntly, “What they did to her was a message to you. Breaking her and forcing you to see her broken for the rest of her life is them torturing you to death and she knows it too. She knows she was just a pawn to hurt you and I’m sure that makes this all the worse for her because she has to live knowing this had nothing to do with her. She’ll never have to ask herself, ‘maybe if I took a different route’, ‘maybe if I didn’t do this, ‘maybe this’, ‘maybe that’. No, she knows none of that mattered because this all happened because she’s your daughter.”
“DON’T YOU THINK I KNOW THAT?!” He screams, turning with the speed of a cobra’s strike, wrapping his hand around my neck, backing me against the table as he stares into my eyes with a fury that could melt the face off a weaker man.
I look calmly into his ferocious eyes, “You’re letting them win. Don’t.”
He continues to stare at me as his brain tries to translate my words, but I see they have sunk in when his fury begins to subside and he releases my neck, stepping back and putting some space between us. I stand up straight and smooth out my clothes, unfazed by his outburst. He had no intention of hurting me, he’s just on a razor’s edge, and I don’t blame him.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” he says shamefully.
“If you need to take a few swings, go for it, I can take it. It’s okay to break down and feel all that you’re feeling, but you can’t let them see it,” I say, jutting my chin towards the door. “I will paint the streets red in your name if you ask it of me. By all means, let them see your rage, but don’t let them see you break.”
He sucks in a deep breath and smooths his hair back. He slowly nods as he exhales, “You’re right. I know you’re right. I just don’t know how to hold it together when I see Athena recoil from me,” he says as he holds back the tears threatening to spill from his eyes.
“Try. For now, you need to be her pillar. When she’s stronger, then you can show her how broken you are, but for now, don’t put that burden on her. I’ll go talk to her and see if I can help in any way,” I say, stepping forward and placing a gentle kiss on his cheek, “Go have a drink and try to calm down.”
He nods, “I think that might be best. Thank you, Dasha. You’re wiser than most of the men who work for me,” he says, attempting to sound more upbeat.
“That’s what you get for not putting more women in positions of power,” I smirk, making my way to the door.
“Dasha?” He calls, making me turn around.
“I would appreciate you not telling your parents about my little outburst. I don’t need them fighting over which of them gets to mutilate me,” he says playfully.
I chuckle, “Your secret is safe with me, theeé,” I promise as I exit the room.
Most of the men and their guards have disappeared, but a handful still remain, indulging in booze and light conversation. Many are looking more laid back, which I imagine is less about relaxing and more about unburdening themselves after what they just witnessed. I ignore them as I make my way through the house to Athena’s room.
As I approach the hallway her room resides in, I see two armed men standing guard at her door and I can’t help but roll my eyes. I understand Dimitris wants to protect Athena, but putting strange, armed, threatening looking men at her door is really not going to make her feel safer around men. He means well, but just another reason why he should recruit more women.
“Miss Hatzis,” one of the guards greets without moving an inch, “The boss said you might be stopping by.”
“Well, here I am, so you two may go on break,” I say casually.
Their posture manages to become more rigid at my words, which I find mildly amusing.
“We have been ordered to guard the boss’s daughter at all times,” the other guard explains.
“I’m sure you have, but I’m here now and she’ll be more than safe with me.”
“I don’t think the boss would like that,” says the other in a warning tone.
“I also don’t think he wants her more traumatised than she is, and your presence isn’t helping, so you can either leave of your own volition, or I can walk through you. Take your pick,” I say with a friendly smile, though my words are far from friendly.
The first guard takes a step forward to take me up on my offer but is quickly halted by the second who places a hand on his shoulder and shakes his head in warning. Smart man.
“We’ll be down the hall, we can still monitor her door from there,” calmly suggests the second guard.
“A fair compromise,” I say in agreement as the two men slowly move away from their post, though the first is sure to give me a dirty look as he passes me. I’m unclear as to what he hoped to achieve by doing that. Does he think his narrowed eyes will have me questioning my life choices? I just murdered one of the crime lords of the Drakos Mafia Family, and I did so with a great deal of enjoyment. Some 6 foot guy playing peek-a-boo with me is hardly going to have my knees trembling.
As soon as the men have moved out of sight, I slide down against the door, sitting on the floor and crossing my legs. “Hello, Athena. I know it’s been a long time since we talked. Your father thought maybe you’d feel comfortable talking to me, and as much as I’d love it if you did, there’s no pressure to do so. You don’t even have to open the door,” I assure her, leaning my head back against the reinforced barrier keeping us apart. I continue to keep an ear out to listen for movement coming from the other side to gage if she’s receptive or not, but so far I hear no movement coming from inside. But that could be from all the extra security her father has put into her room. It seems that in attempting to keep her safe he’s unintentionally turned her bedroom into a cell, and it’s not certain if it’s designed to keep people out or to keep her in. “Your father wants so badly to protect you, but we both know it’s a bit late for that. He thinks he can shield you from further pain, but you
After an hour of watching Athena sleep, I felt it was safe to carefully remove myself from under her frail frame. I slowly replace my body with a pillow and bundle her up making sure she’s secure and then quietly exit her room, closing the door behind me. I give a nod of acknowledgement to Athena’s diligent bodyguards down the hall, who both nod with a look of relief and appreciation on their faces. To their credit, they are good men and would lay down their lives for Athena. They’re probably as happy as I am that she let me in and managed not to scream. Hopefully she’ll start to improve and when she’s strong enough I can start training her just as my mother trained me, only with some upgrades. I was hoping to see my father again before I left, but I can’t seem to track him down and I don’t feel like staying around here longer than I have to, especially when I have botanicals that need my attention. So, instead, I make my way back to my car stopping at a full-length mirror to give my
“Take off your panties,” he instructs as he tweaks my nipple making me mewl. I slide my hands up my skirt and hook my thumbs into the waistband of my panties as I slowly take them off and twirl them around my finger. “Now what?” “Now get that sexy ass back here right now,” he orders, releasing my throat as he sits back. I eagerly climb into the backseat and straddle the 6’3” bodyguard whose muscular physique nearly fills my entire backseat. He immediately takes a firm grasp of my ass and pulls me close so I can feel his hardened cock press against my pussy through his slacks. Chocolate eyes meet hazel as I stare at the man who doesn’t look a day over 35. He’s wearing his usual black suit over a fitted black tee with black slacks, his body smelling of this intoxicating cologne that has lingered on my clothes on more than one occasion. He has lightly tanned skin that gives him just a hint of colour, a sharp square jaw framed by his trimmed and surprisingly soft beard while his thic
I have been buzzing with a sense of accomplishment this week. Roughly a year ago I managed to obtain Hippomane mancinella seeds and have been cultivating them ever since. This particular fruit tree is native to Mesoamerica and the Caribbean Sea Islands and so it’s taken time to create the perfect environment for it to flourish in, and after months of hard work, the tree is finally bearing fruit! Now, it’s not the fruit from this tree that is of interest to me. The manchineel tree is also known as the Tree of Death or the Chamomile of Death. While the fruit smells heavenly and has the appearance of a mini apple, the tree is highly toxic. It’s actually considered the most dangerous tree in the world. The tree itself produces a milky sap that contains phorbol, an organic compound that when exposed to the skin can feel like someone is setting your skin on fire, to the point it can even cause blisters and eruptions in the epidermis. However, if the sap is ingested it will lead to severe vo
It’s 5 minutes to 1 and the crisp night air brings with it a cold breeze as I stand here under the Eiffel Tower, waiting for my mystery pen pal to arrive. I’m not a big fan of cold weather. I much prefer the warmth we were starting to experience again back home in Greece. I will always jump at the chance to take a job in a warm and sunny climate. It doesn’t even feel like work if you get to enjoy the sun after a long day of murder and mayhem, but my mystery person chose this location, so here I am.At least I am dressed enough to keep myself somewhat warm. My hair is down to keep my ears covered, while my black long-sleeved turtleneck shields my neck from the elements. My cropped, wide-sleeved mustard yellow cashmere jacket with a wide collar that hangs over my shoulders, provides an extra layer of warmth to my torso, while my legs fend for themselves with only black high-waisted leggings and black suede pointed-toe scrunch 3-inch ankle boots to act as barriers between me and this unp
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I tighten the belt around my long white coat, steeling myself against the cold Moscow air and step into the cloud-filled coffee shop. I think I was better off out in the cold. Heavy smokers fill the room, permeating the air with the smoke from their cigarettes. I may be used to the smell, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy it. Even if I get my clothes dry cleaned it’ll probably still take multiple tries to get out the smell of smoke. I’m kicking myself for choosing to wear all-white today. Cigarette smoke stains like a bitch. Nevertheless, I make my way to an empty table and get myself situated, ignoring the smoke as best I can. I remove my white leather gloves and slip them into my pocket as a waitress comes over, looking like she’s been working back-to-back shifts for the past month. “What can I get you?” “I’ll just have a belyash, thank you,” I say pleasantly. “Anything to drink?” She asks tiredly. Note to self, leave this woman a large tip. “Maybe later.” She walks off to get my
This isn’t the first time I’ve been on a date with a target. Sometimes the best way to get close enough to poison someone is by going on a date with them. Posing as a waitress or pretending to be a patron are the next best possibilities, definitely the ones that lead to the least amount of suspicion. If the police are called to investigate a death and everyone reports he or she was spotted having dinner with a woman no one can find, then that woman – rightfully – becomes suspect number one. In this case, Silas – or Nicolae – willingly placed himself in my crosshairs, so it seems foolhardy not to seize the opportunity. All that said, I still intend to look my best. The least I can do for him is give him something to admire before he dies. A final glimpse at beauty as he takes his inevitable last breath. Thankfully, I pack for all occasions. I’ve gone with a long-sleeved, turtleneck black thigh-high dress with white satin ribbon travelling in an elaborate stitch pattern down the left s