Page 26 of The Don's Deadly Assassin

For the first time in my life, I’m putting a near-stranger over my own survival.

I hate feeling this weak.

"Can I ever go back to who I was?" I wonder about this newfound vulnerability pressing down on my chest. "Or has this change become an irreversible part of me?"

The sudden shrill sound of my phone ringing instinctively makes me reach for my gun. My heart pounds in my throat as my hand hovers over the phone. I’ve been fearing the Handler's call.

I mustn’t let on that I’ve been compromised. He’d kill me himself if he found out. I’ve seen what he does to those who can no longer serve his purpose.

"Hello?" I finally manage to say, making sure my voice remains cold and steady.

He trained me to be the greatest liar in the world, and now, I put the master to test.

"Huntress, tell me you have completed your mission." Straight to the point

For a second, I consider the consequences: honesty or deception.

"Is everything alright?" The Handler's tone is laced with suspicion,

I force out a response. "We need to meet."

“What happened?” His tone could freeze fire.

“When can I see you?” I answer his question with a question, a tactic he taught me himself.

To my surprise, he lets it pass.

"Meet me at the warehouse on Pier 8 in one hour," The Handler says tersely.

"Understood," I say, barely able to suppress the tremble in my voice. As soon as the line goes dead, I release the breath I'd been holding, my mind racing to find a way out.

I need to buy time to figure out a way to safeguard Vincenzo. Requesting to meet the Handler is suicide, but it's necessary if I'm to maintain any semblance of control over this situation.

As I ponder my next move, I recall the Handler's words from our training days: "Emotion is a weakness. It clouds judgment and leads to failure. It’s best you never learn them," And yet, here I am, drowning in unfamiliar feelings, unable to determine their origin or how to quell them.

I glance at the arrow, its metallic gleam catching my eye. Whatever power it holds, I must unlock its secrets and regain control over my own heart before the Handler discovers the truth. There's no room for error now; the stakes have never been higher.

Chapter 9

The Handler

I sit in the cold, metal chair, listening to the sounds of the waves outside by the pier, and wait for Camela to arrive.

The abandoned warehouse looms dark, my ancient beast, its shadowy corners hiding secrets and memories of the past. A gang used it…once.

Until I blew up the trucks they operated from, killing their key men.

Now, this place is mine. Though the dead still own the lease.

I command the air around me to laugh at my cleverness while I wait, heavy with anticipation.

I don’t meet with my weapons when they fail. I simply discard them. But the Huntress has never failed me before. She could walk in here and still tell that the mission is a success. Could.

The thick silence is only broken by the faint scurrying of a mouse on the warehouse floor. Its tiny feet tap against the cold concrete, an unwanted metronome to my thoughts.

I watch it scurry under my chair with unblinking eyes. In a second, I leap back, toppling the chair, frightening it into inaction. I crouch and grab it by the tail, staring into its eyes.

When Camela was just a child, her eyes were wide with fear, much like this little creature.

---