Chapter 12- The Kill
567 Words
It wasn’t supposed to be her.
The job was simple . That’s what Silas sais. That’s what Rex had promised.
“Just deliver the message,” Rex told her. “You don’t have to touch anything. You’re the face now, Faith. Not the blade.”
But faces can become weapons.
And she was already too sharp to pretend otherwise.
Marco was the target.
A supplier. Loyal once. Sloppy now. Rumors of side deals, unpaid cuts, whispers passed too loudly in the wrong back rooms. He was dragging weight. And in Rex’s world, dead weight didn’t get warnings.
It got erased.
They sent her to send the message. Fatima begged her not to go.
“You’re not that girl.” she said. “You send someone else. Let him bleed on someone else’s conscience.”
But Faith had already learned the rules: If you don’t hold the knife, they hand it to someone who enjoys it. And Marco didn’t deserve that.
So she went.
*****
It was late when she arrived at the safehouse.
No security.
No lights.
Just a cracked door and the smell of sweat and betrayal. Marco was drunk. Of course he was. He smiled when he saw her. “Faith,” he slurred, arms open. “You here to save me or seduce me?”
She didn’t smile. Didn’t blink. “You missed a payment.”
Marco shrugged, stumbled back. “It’s nothing. Rex knows I’m good for it. Just a rough month.”
“Your second rough month.”
Marco’s eyes changed. His voice dropped. “You’re not here to talk, are you?”
“No.”
He backed up. “Then who’d they send?”
She stepped forward. Close. Quiet. “I am who they sent.”
He tried to run. Of course he did. But Faith was faster. She grabbed the bat by the door - aluminum, worn, probably his kid’s once - and brought it down hard across his knee. He screamed. Dropped. She stepped over him.
“You think this is what I wanted?” she snapped, her breath ragged. “You think I woke up dreaming about turning into this?” He was crying now. Not for help. Not even for his life. Just in disbelief.
“You’re not like them” he whispered. Faith leaned in.
“I wasn’t.” And then - with her eyes closed - she brought the bat down again.
She didn't kill him. Not all the way. But she made sure he’d never walk without remembering who gave him mercy. And who gave him pain.
When she walked out, her hands were shaking. Her stomach turned. Her breath came in shallow bursts. But her spine? It had never been straighter.
*****
Rex called an hour later.
“How’d it go?”
Faith stared at her hands. At the flecks of dried red under her nails.
“He’ll live,” she said.
“Shame,” Rex replied. “But I trust your judgement. You did well.” And then: “I’m proud of you.” She hung up without saying a word. Because proud felt like an insult.
That night, she showered three times. The water didn’t take it off. Nothing could. But when she looked in the mirror, she no longer saw a girl trying to survive a world that didn’t love her. She saw a woman building a kingdom from bodies.
- Writer
