Page 16 of The Assassin's Captive
"I want to leave. Now."
"That's not going to happen," I tell her, stepping closer to her.
She moves toward the kitchen doorway, and I intercept her, not touching her but blocking her path. The shirt she's wearing—my shirt—suddenly feels like a costume, a prop in a play we're both trying to pretend isn't happening.
"Move," she says, and there's a tremor in her voice now.
"Answer my questions first."
"I don't have to tell you anything."
"Actually, you do." I take a step closer, and she holds her ground. "The sources outside the justice system. The ones feeding you information. Names, Serena. I need to know what you know."
"Go to hell."
"The financial records you've been tracking. Which banks? Which accounts?"
She tries to move around me, but I shift to block her again. We're close now, close enough that I can smell the lingering scent of her perfume mixed with sleep and sex. Close enough to see the pulse hammering in her throat, the veins bulging above her temples.
"You're scaring me," she whispers.
I shouldn't be surprised by her admission. Of course I'm scaring her. I was never meant to be anything other than terrifying. That was the plan. It was how Emilio ordered me to get in… But the woman who came apart in my arms last night,who looked at me with heat and hunger, is staring at me now with terror in her eyes.
"I need to use the bathroom," she says, her voice carefully controlled.
I study her face, looking for deception, for signs that she's planning something. But she looks pale, shaken. Human.
"Fine. But don't try anything stupid."
She nods, moving past me toward the hallway. I watch her go, my hand unconsciously moving to the gun at my back.
I should have done this differently. Should have asked the questions before I let myself get distracted by her mouth, her skin, the way she said my name. Should have remembered that she's not just a woman—she's a target.
My phone buzzes against the table, and I reach for it, expecting Emilio. Instead, it's a text from Victor.
Victor: 7:23 AM: Any word from the boss? Haven't heard from you since yesterday.
I start to type a response, my attention divided between the phone and the hallway where Serena disappeared. The apartment feels different now, charged with the tension created by the job I'm supposed to be doing.
The bathroom door clicks shut, and I hear the sound of running water. I finish typing my message to Victor, telling him everything is under control. A lie, but a necessary one.
I'm scrolling through my other messages when I hear her moving around in the bathroom. The sound of the cabinet opening. The soft thud of something being set down. Normal sounds that shouldn't set off alarms in my head.
But they do.
I'm halfway to standing when I hear her footsteps in the hallway. Soft, careful. Too careful.
I start to turn, my hand reaching for my weapon, but I'm too late. The impact comes from behind, sharp and brutal,connecting with the base of my skull. The phone flies from my hand, clattering across the floor as pain explodes through my head.
My vision blurs, and I stagger forward, reaching for the table to steady myself. But my legs won't hold me. The kitchen tilts sideways, and I'm falling, the floor rushing up to meet me.
The last thing I see before the darkness takes me is my phone, the screen cracked but still glowing, Victor's message still displayed.
Then nothing.
8
SERENA
