Pitter-Patter

Rain was gloom's only companion

'til rain lilies said hi. 

1

She released the magazine and placed it inside the safe along with the unloaded pistol. Her hand held the safe door to close it, but an image that suddenly flashed through her head stopped her mid-way.

She saw a jade dragon tattoo, its head pointing downwards. The dragon was beautiful, petrifying and mystifying, yet it was upside-down. Still, it stole her breath away. A picture of strength and prosperity but, ultimately, power... The irony. Strength, prosperity, power, yet the Organization was coming to its fatal end.

She shook her head, closed the safe door tight, and walked out of her condo unit with a red coat in hand. The quiet streets of Manhattan were glistening with water under the moonless night. It had been raining all week, that's why work had been a lot easier since she'd been sneaking around New York. The rain had washed out all her traces.

The black umbrella hung over her head, her boots heavy but her footsteps feather-light. All those training made it easier to walk around undetected. Her cold hands entered the pockets of her coat before her thoughts drifted back to the upside-down jade dragon tattoo.

How inebriating it looked with all its stunning prestige and glory, but some people just couldn't live with the filth brought about by all that splendour. They had decided to sing. She could only imagine how horrifying it must have had been to testify against the most powerful of the Five Mafia Families. No. It must have had been more than just terrifying; they probably wished they were dead instead.

The torment in fear would have had been too much, and yet, the courage in their fear was what's going to bring the five families to their knees. All the prestige and glory, all the glittering shine, were soon to dim.

Her eyes caught her red coat and realized she stood out too much. She should have worn black, yet she simply shook her head again. No, she resolved. Tonight I'm just a woman, nothing more, nothing less.

She was nearing the lonely bus stop when the rain started flooding up the streets once again. She quickly ran toward it for shelter, and then she saw him—the very object of her dreams and desires all week—trying to out-run the rain, heading to where she was. He still looked ruggedly handsome even under the cold, wet weather. Cozied up in his grey trench coat and dark blue scarf that hung on his shoulders, his dark brown hair was a bit messy, yet it only added to his already overflowing charm. She forgot everything about the Organization, the dragon tattoo, the witnesses—she forgot about all that straightaway. What replaced them in her thoughts was the memory of that night—the first night the relentless rain poured down on Manhattan...

People from all directions scrammed into the small shed that was the bus stop while the rain beat what had been a peaceful night. She was one of them. The space was too small for everyone. She was standing at the back and, as people kept coming and pushing in desperate need to stay out of the rain, she was shoved even farther in. By the time they settled down, she was already huffing the same breath as a stranger in a nearness that almost drove her mad.

The moment their eyes met, she was instantly ensnared. He was a tall man. Tall and dashing, yet his face bore excruciating indifference. Brown, she took a mental note of his eyes. And cold.

The man was staring back down at her, a tinge of distaste on his face. If he did not like the situation, it showed. The sharpness and mystery in his look was almost daunting, scathing—but her eyes did not heed the demands of her logic to stop. Her gaze continued to roam his still face—thick eyebrows, pointed nose, chiselled jawline, appealing scruff. Her eyes travelled down his broad, capable shoulders, strong arms and pecs that formed despite the loose fabric he was wearing. They were so close, her chest pressed up against his, yet he seemed to have had already put up a wall between them.