To Heal the Enemy

01

Chapter One: I Don't Miss

Anala's pov:

"Anala Ariana!" my father yelled from the kitchen. I walk down the stairs pulling my earbuds out of my ears. Turning the corner into the kitchen, I see my father arguing over the phone in Italian. 

This is the first hint that something is wrong. 

He hangs up the phone and looks at me with almost an apologetic look in his eye as I sat on the counter. He sets his phone down and turns his back to me before walking over to the stove. He makes a plate of food and sets it in front of me after doing so.

"You're always nicer to talk to after a bit of food," Marco says with a slight smile. I chuckle and looked down at the wide variety of food on my plate.

"Thanks... everything alright?" I question, as I shove some scrambled eggs into my mouth. I notice his shoulders tense up as I ask this. 

"Everything is fine, you know just the usual. People wanting people dead and what not" he said with another smile on his face. One thing I've gotten really good at throughout the years is reading people's eyes. A person can hide things so well but your eyes never lie about your emotions, not unless you have none. I know when my father is lying, I always know.

"Don't lie, you know you suck at it," I say, shoving another bite of food into my mouth, my eyes still following my father. Before he has a chance to look at me the door creaks. 

Without hesitation, I pull a gun from between my waistband and look towards the noise. From the corner of my eye, I see my father also pull a gun from the drawer.

Mateo walks through the door laughing when he sees the sight of our guns pointed at him. We then watch as Mateo walks to the living room, grabs a throw pillow, then throws it at us. I catch it and watch as he slumps to the couch. 

"Mateo why the fuck are you in my house?" Marco growled, putting his gun back in the drawer. I put my gun in my back pocket in return and walk towards Mateo.

"I wanted to see my favorite uncle and cousin," he said, making himself comfortable.

"Tell me why you're really here," I say, unamused.

"Okay fine you have an assignment. We need you to kill a group of assassins from the Santiago's mafia. So go get ready." 

I never really ask questions about my assignments or argue for that matter. I'm just here to kill them then get the fuck out.

I go upstairs and change into a black bodysuit with black jeans. I also put on a black zip-up. Full emo. 

I start to gear up by grabbing my bow and my bag of arrows. I then put knives between the band on my outer thigh. Lastly, I grab my trusty gun and put it in between my waistband. 

I put on some red lipstick to pull the rest of the outfit together and add some actual color before heading downstairs.

I know I have a lot of weapons but you always have to be prepared for anything because from experience I know that anything can happen. 

As much as I like killing with my bow, it is much easier to use my knives. When I want a fast and simple kill I use my gun, if I want a painful kill I use my knife, and if I want a satisfying kill I use my bow. To be fair any kill is satisfying. It means I'm doing my job right.

If I was made for anything, it was this.

~~~

We show up at a warehouse with a couple of people already here. I'm guessing it's some sort of meeting. I quietly sneak up and get my bow ready. When I make my way to the entrance I can see that nobody suspects anything and they are all engaged in some conversation.