Page 35 of Not This Soon

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear. "I sense your pain," he whispered, his voice low and unsettling. "It's more than just your foot."

The woman's eyes widened, fear seeping into her expression. She clutched her purse tighter, as if it could shield her from his probing gaze.

"You don't know anything about me," she retorted, but her words lacked conviction.

The assassin's lips curved into a smile, but it held no warmth. "I know enough."

He reached out, his fingertips grazing the edge of her clipboard. The woman flinched, pulling it closer to her chest.

"Your anger, your bitterness... it's eating you alive," he murmured, his voice almost hypnotic. "But I can help you find peace."

The woman shook her head vehemently. "I don't want your help. I want you to leave me alone."

The assassin's eyes flickered to her injured foot, then back to her face. "You're in pain, Eleanor. Let me ease your suffering."

She froze, her grip on the clipboard slackening. "How... how do you know my name?"

The assassin merely smiled, a glint of something dark and dangerous in his eyes. "I know many things, Eleanor. Things that can help you, if you let me."

Eleanor swallowed hard, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps.

Now, she wasn't so dismissive. Wasn't so cold. But he could feel his lips twisting back into a smirk. Part of him hated the enjoyment he felt. Hedidn’twant to go through with any of this…

But another part of him, deep, deep down relished the fear. Relished the power he held over this woman. It was intoxicating. The thrill of the chase—of knowing he could give, and take away, with just a few well-chosen words.

He took a step back and nodded towards her injured foot. "If you change your mind, Eleanor," he said, voice dripping with faux concern, "let me know.”

Her breathing was shallow now, her eyes darting nervously towards the hospital exit. He wondered if she was contemplating making a dash for it. But she wouldn't get far on that injured foot.

Flight… or fight. Now came the second expected response.

Eleanor's trembling fingers gripped the clipboard, knuckles white with tension.

Slowly, she lowered the clipboard, hugging it to her chest like a shield.

His eyes flicked down to the clipboard, to the form she had been filling out. Eleanor followed his gaze, realizing too late what he was looking at.

Her name, printed in neat, black letters at the top of the page. And just below it,her address.

She clutched the clipboard tighter, as if she could somehow erase the information with the force of her grip.

The assassin's smile widened, a predatory gleam in his eyes. He had seen what he needed to.

"Watchful one, grant this woman the strength to endure the trials that lie ahead," the assassin murmured, his voice low and hypnotic. "Give her the courage to face her fears, to confront the darkness that threatens to consume her." His words hung in the air, a twisted benediction.

“You’re no servant of God,” the woman spat back. “You’re of the devil.”

“Oh?” he said, leaning in and leering again. There it was once more, another flash of delight at her terror.

Just then, a nurse's voice cut through the tension, shattering the moment like a hammer through glass. "Sir, I need you to stay put.”

He turned sharply at the familiar voice. It was the same nurse from his recovery room upstairs. He recognized her oversized nose and piercing, hawklike gaze under a fringe of graying blonde hair. Her forehead looked something like a blunt slab of granite in his opinion. And her presence was as welcome as stray stones in his shoes. She’d told him to stay put earlier, and he’d ignored her, and now she was scowling in his direction.

"Sir!” she called, louder, one hand raised as if to halt him. “Sir, please—stop! The police are on their way to ask you about the wound." The nurse's tone was firm, authoritative, but tinged with an undercurrent of unease.

The assassin's gaze lingered on Eleanor and her injured foot for a moment longer, a silent promise that this was far from over. Then, with a final, almost imperceptible nod, he turned to face the nurse, his expression a mask of calm innocence. "Of course," he said, his voice smooth and unruffled. "I'll be happy to cooperate with the authorities."

The nurse hesitated.

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