Sugar Coat

The city was quiet in that way only the dead of night could offer. Hope crouched on the rooftop, her breath steady, eyes locked on the target moving below. One shot, clean and precise—that was all it would take. She never Missed. The weight of the silenced pistol in his hand was familiar, almost comforting, like an old friend who knew his darkest secrets. She had ten seconds before the man stepped out of the light and disappeared forever. Hope’s finger hovered over the trigger as she watched the man pause beneath a flickering streetlamp. The target fumbled with his keys, oblivious to the eyes on him. Hope had studied him for days—routine, habits, even the way he looked over his shoulder when he felt uneasy. But tonight, there was no unease. Just the cold, hard end of inevitability. Nine seconds. Hope exhaled slowly, adjusting his aim. The target was a banker by day, but at night, he dealt in something far more sinister. Hope wasn’t told the details—she never asked. She only needed to know who, not why. Seven seconds. The man finally found the right key, sliding it into the lock of a nondescript door. Hope tensed. One shot, centre mass, right as the door opened. The mark wouldn’t even hear the bullet. Four seconds. Her finger pressed down. Then, from the shadows, a second figure stepped into view—unexpected, unplanned. A woman. She was reaching for the man’s arm, whispering something he couldn’t hear from this distance. Hope’s jaw clenched. She didn’t do collateral. Two seconds. She pulled her finger on the trigger. The g*n’s soft click was swallowed by the night, but Hope’s shot never came. Her finger froze, instincts screaming at her to stop. The woman’s presence changed everything. One second. Her heartbeat quickened, her thoughts racing. Who was this woman? A lover? An associate? It didn’t matter. She wasn’t part of the job. Hope didn’t do collateral, and she wasn’t about to start now. She adjusted her grip, watching the scene unfold below. The man turned toward the woman, his face breaking into a tired smile. They exchanged a few words—intimate, familiar. This wasn’t a random encounter. The woman knew him. Something inside Hope twisted. She had prepared for every possible variable—except this one. The door clicked open, and the pair disappeared inside. The streetlamp flickered once more, casting long, distorted shadows on the pavement before the light snuffed out entirely, plunging the alley into darkness. Hope lowered the pistol, her body tense with frustration. She never Missed a shot, but tonight she’d Missed something else entirely. She couldn’t afford to leave a job unfinished, but she also couldn’t pull the trigger with unknowns in the equation. She slinked back from the edge of the rooftop, disappearing into the maze of the city’s skyline. It wasn’t her first setback, but it left her with a bitter taste in her mouth. This wasn’t just about her target anymore. There was another player on the board, and she needed to know who the woman was before she could make her next move. As she moved through the shadows, her mind worked through the possibilities. The woman could be leverage—an accomplice, maybe even a partner in his dark dealings. Or perhaps she was nothing more than an innocent bystander caught in the wrong moment. Hope couldn’t take that chance. She reached her safehouse, a small, unassuming apartment on the city’s outskirts, and pulled out her laptop. Within minutes, she hacked into the building’s security system, pulling up grainy footage from the alley. The timestamp aligned perfectly. She zoomed in on the woman’s face, but the angle wasn’t clear enough to identify her. “Dammit,” she muttered, leaning back in her chair. Whoever this woman was, she had complicated everything. Hope ran her hands through her hair, tension gripping her shoulders. She could wait, gather more intel, or move on the target tomorrow. But her employers weren’t known for their patience. They wanted results, clean and quick. Delays weren’t acceptable. She tapped her fingers on the table, weighing her options. A part of her wanted to call it off, pass the information to someone else in the network. But another part, the part that had made her the best at what she did, refused to let go. She had come too far to back down now. Her phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with an encrypted message: **Status? ** Hope stared at the screen for a moment before typing back a response: **Complication. Need more time. ** The reply was immediate: **Finish it. No loose ends. ** She set the phone down, her jaw tightening. No loose ends. That was the rule. But if the woman weren’t part of the job, Hope wouldn’t kill her. She couldn’t. The cleanest option was to find out who she was, what her connection to the target might be, and deal with her accordingly. As dawn crept over the horizon, Hope leaned forward, her fingers flying across the keyboard, tracing leads, following digital breadcrumbs. The clock was ticking, and soon, she'd know who the woman was. After that, it would just be a matter of time before she completed the Mission. And Hope always finished her Missions. Always.