YOU
1924 Words
7:42 AM
Olivia
I woke up nearly suffocating because Kevin was sitting directly on my face. I grabbed him by his middle and set him down on the bed next to me.
"Bad kitty," I muttered softly, still half-asleep.
I reached over and picked up my phone to check the time. 7:42 AM. My first lecture of the day was at nine.
Every single morning, I ask myself why I decided to study this stupid course. Oh, yeah—because apparently, it’s "cool" to have a degree. I was currently pursuing a bachelor's in behavioral science, but honestly, the bachelor's was the one pursuing me.
My father—who is basically Beelzebub himself—insisted that I get a degree in something. His logic was that if I ever decided to stop hunting and turn over a new leaf, I’d actually have a way to make ends meet. He loved me in his own twisted way, and making sure I was prepared for a world outside of contract killing was his version of parental affection.
I brushed my teeth while staring at my reflection in the mirror. I’d showered the night before to scrub off Carter, so I didn't bother with it this morning. Sifting through my closet, I pulled out something basic: a pair of jeans and a soft, pretty pink top.
My phone started buzzing on the counter. I picked it up and tapped the speakerphone button. "Hi, Melanie," I said.
Melanie had been my best friend for the last four years. We’d met during our sophomore year of high school and had been joined at the hip ever since. We even went to the same university and chose the exact same major. Honestly, Melanie came from a ridiculously wealthy family and was only studying for fun, so she was basically getting a degree just to hang out with me.
"Hi, babes! I'm outside," she said cheerily, immediately hanging up.
She always picked me up in the morning, which was one of the main reasons I was always in such a rush to wrap up my kills the night before.
I said a quick goodbye to Kevin and headed out, tucking a small tote bag under my arm. When I opened the front door, a cardboard box was sitting on the welcome mat. I picked it up and peeked inside. Resting at the bottom were my knives, looking pristine. A sticky note from Charlie was attached to the steel: Squeaky clean. Have a nice day, Olive Branch.
A soft smile spread across my face. I really loved my brother. I stuffed the box deep into my tote bag and took the elevator down to the lobby.
"Hey, slut," I said to Mel as I hopped into the passenger seat of her pastel-pink BMW. I wasn't a car person and couldn't tell you the make or model if my life depended on it, but it was bright pink, and that was the only specification that mattered to Mel.
Melanie was your typical blonde Barbie. She had blue eyes, soft features, and pretty pink lips that seemed to be locked in a permanent pout. She had peaked in high school and just stayed at that exact aesthetic peak ever since. She wasn't dumb, but she was exceptionally talented at playing the dumb blonde. There was something slightly wrong with her psychology, just like there was something wrong with mine. I’d never quite figured out what her deal was, but I was pretty sure she hadn't figured out mine either.
"Hey, harlot," she fired back as I slammed the passenger door shut. "So, two things. First, our Human Behavior class is officially canceled today because Mrs. Montgomery just popped out that big, fat baby in her belly."
"Oh," I said, adjusting my tote bag.
"Yeah. With the size of her stomach lately, I bet it hurt like hell. We should keep her in our prayers."
"Amen." I buckled my seatbelt and turned to look at her. "And the second thing?"
"Oh... yeah, I forgot!" Mel squealed, her eyes lighting up with pure excitement as she shifted into drive. "We're getting a replacement professor starting tomorrow morning, and rumor has it he is f*****g fine. Aren't you excited?"
"Not really. As long as he can actually teach the material, I'm good."
"You are absolutely no fun." She pouted, turning her head to look at me.
"Eyes on the road, Mel."
"Sorry," she muttered, her sweet little pout growing even wider as she faced forward. I completely understood why she’d had my poor little brother wrapped around her finger for most of high school. The girl was utterly irresistible. "So, what's the plan for tonight?"
"I'm staying home and studying," I lied smoothly.
In reality, I was heading to a club called Highlight tonight to hunt down my new target. But I couldn't tell Mel a single word of that, or she would immediately try to tag along. I couldn't risk anyone I knew seeing me anywhere near a target. It would make it way too easy to get caught, and I knew myself—prison to me would be like the outdoors to Kevin. Kevin could not survive the elements, and neither could I.
"Ugh, you're so boring! Let's go party!"
"Nope."
She knew me well enough to know that "studying" was my universal code for I am completely unavailable tonight, so she didn't push it any further.
8:45 PM
I changed into a tight, strapless black dress I’d ordered off Shein. Yeah, yeah, I know we aren't supposed to shop fast fashion, but I literally murder people for a living, so the ethics of my wardrobe didn't really weigh heavily on my conscience. I owned brand-name clothes, but I certainly wasn't going to risk ruining a luxury outfit with bloodstains tonight.
"Nice ass," Donna said, letting out a low, appreciative whistle from the driver's seat. "God definitely has favorites."
The dress was a tight little number. It was short enough to show off my thighs, but just long enough to completely conceal the lethal blade strapped to my inner right thigh.
"w***e," I said, flashing her a look of mock disgust.
Donna and I went way back. She had been my primary instructor when I was a kid, teaching me absolutely everything I knew about the trade. She taught me exactly where to cut to make a death fast and clean, and she’d also taught me where to cut if I wanted to intentionally make a mess. She was beautifully unhinged in every way. Standing at six-foot-two with a bulky, powerful frame, she was always patient and kind during my training. She’d never raised a hand to hurt me, which was what made her so special to me.
"Be safe in there," Donna said as I opened the passenger door.
"I will."
I stepped out of the car, smoothed down my dress, and walked toward the entrance. This was going to be a long night.
The moment I stepped inside the club, the heavy, thumping bass vibrated straight through the floorboards. I hated loud clubs. It didn't matter, though; I wasn't here to hit the dance floor.
I scanned the crowded, flashing room for any sign of Shavonne, but he was nowhere to be found.
Had the informant been wrong? Was he really not coming?
Well, the only way to find out was to let him find me first. According to the intel file, Shavonne had a very specific type. He preferred women who were... well-endowed. He liked thick thighs, a curvy frame, and curly hair. I had all of that covered, which was precisely why the family elders had selected me for the hit.
I walked over to the bar, sliding onto a stool, and ordered a shot of tequila. I knew I shouldn't be drinking on the job, but alcohol didn't affect me the way it affected normal people. Back in high school, I could down several bottles of Everclear back-to-back without even feeling tipsy. It was bizarre, but it made me an absolute legend among a bunch of high schoolers. My parents claimed it was a supernatural blessing from our lineage, but I preferred to think I just had an insanely fast metabolism.
"Hey there, Angel," a deep, sultry voice murmured right beside my ear.
I was fully prepared to shoo away whatever random guy was trying to hit on me, but the moment I turned my head, I froze.
I was looking directly into a pair of striking, crimson eyes.
I forced myself to suppress the gasp rising in my throat. There he was. Shavonne, in all his glory.
"Angel... that's a new one," I said smoothly, knocking back the shot of tequila before swiveling my barstool to face him completely. "Though honestly, looking at you, you should be the one with that title."
His hair was a sleek, silver-grey color. He was significantly prettier in person than he was in his file; the surveillance photos didn't do him a shred of justice.
"Why, thank you, my lady," he replied, offering a playful, mock-British accent. "Would you care for a dance?"
"Do you talk to all the girls like this?" I asked, tilting my head slightly to get a better look at the intricate tattoos winding up his arm. A detailed snake encircled his forearm, slithering up into his sleeve through a dense patch of lilies, roses, and wisteria. The man was gorgeous.
"Only the pretty ones." He was watching me like an apex predator observing its prey, and I hated the way it sent a sudden thrill straight through me. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against my skin as he whispered, "Just one dance, Angel."
"Okay, then. Take me for a spin."
He took my hand to lead me away, and the exact moment our skin met, a sharp jolt of electricity surged between us. Static.
"Your wish is my command," he murmured.
He guided me onto the packed dance floor, his large hand sliding effortlessly around my waist and pulling my hips flush against his. I swayed to the heavy beat, keeping my eyes locked onto his.
I leaned in close, letting my voice carry over the music. "What's your name?"
Instead of answering verbally right away, he pressed his lips gently against the side of my neck. "Shavonne," he whispered against my skin, sending an involuntary chill running straight down my spine. "And yours, Angel?"
He wasn't going to survive the night anyway, so there was no harm in being honest. "Olivia."
He moved behind me, his hand tightening securely around my waist as we moved together. "So, Olivia... what exactly are you looking for tonight?"
I rested the back of my head against his shoulder, tilting my face up to lock eyes with him one more time. I let out a single, simple word.
"You."
I watched his crimson eyes darken instantly. His arm tightened around my waist, pulling me impossibly closer, and my pulse raced at the sheer feel of him.
Something was deeply wrong. I just wasn't entirely sure if it was with him, or with me.
- Writer
