Page 11 of Mystic

“I just want names, Kyla.”

“And I plan on giving them to you.”

“But you’re holding back. I see it in your eyes.”

“One of them … he … he meant a lot to me, okay?”

“Boyfriend?” I ask. I see the pain in her eyes, and she knows how things will end. He will be dead by the time I get done with this.

“Yeah. I didn’t think he’d do it. I didn’t think he had it in him. I mean, I know what we do. I know what we are paid to do, but I don’t do it without reason.”

“You always have a reason to kill?” I ask her.

“Yeah, I do. I know what every target I killed did. I know what they are accused of. Your family … they didn’t deserve it,” she tells me, breaking my heart a little more. I’m still healing. I’m still trying to come to terms with what happened to them. I can see them in my dreams. I see the same goddamn scene all over again in my head. I hate it.

“So you kill for your family?” I ask her. I just want to know a little more about what I’m getting myself into with this girl.

“Yeah. I was raised for this.”

“Isn’t it a little unusual? A woman as the killer for hire?”

“A little, yes. But what else was I supposed to do? I wasn’t the sweet little girl my father thought I would be. For the most part, I was a disappointment, so he put me to use the best way he knew how.” Damn. That had to be hard on her and made her feel like shit. I nod my head, not sure what to say to that.

“That sounds hard,” I tell her. I shouldn’t be talking or helping her, but I want answers. I want to know where my family is, and I want them back. Just thinking about it causes tears to burn my eyes, but I quickly blink them away.

“It was hard. Knowing you were never good enough for your father killed a part of me inside. I was never normal. I would never be normal.”

“I’m sorry, Kyla.”

“Don’t be. I’m not. I killed people. I took lives, not unlike your family.”

“But you had a reason to.”

“Always.”

“That’s different.”

“Is it?” she asks. She looks at me, and I wonder more about her. She doesn’t seem like a killer. She isn’t like any I’ve ever run into, and I know killers.

“I need to make some phone calls,” I tell her. She nods as I close down my laptop and stand to my feet, walking down the hall. I walk into my room and close the door before pulling out my phone.

“Been a while,” the guy on the other end of the line says.

“What’s up, Creed? It has been a while.”

“Fuck, Mystic. Been almost a year, yeah?”

“Something like that. How you been?”

“I’m good, man. Shit’s been good. How’s the family?” he asks, and my heart shatters. I choke on a sob and then clear my throat to cover it up.

“That’s what I’m calling you about. I’m going to need some favors from a few people.”

“Of course. What’s goin’ on?”

“They were killed. I’m not sure who it was. When I find out …”

“Say less, brother. I got you. You find out anything, you call me. I’m there.”

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