Cold-Blooded ❖ John Price

12. Killer

CHAPTER TWELVE
KILLER

CHAPTER WARNINGS!!! Mentions of torture, injuries, blood, human trafficking, assassins, murder and death.

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The inside of the chopper felt almost like a second home to her. After the many hours she had spent inside the machine, its metallic walls and loudly whirring blades felt more familiar than not. The smell, although having her scrunch up her nose the first time she had entered one, was now almost welcomed; a sense of familiarity.

She easily tuned out the men around her, their gruff voices reaching her ears despite the loudness of the chopper itself; the blades whirring, the radio beeping, stuff rattling on the walls, and even the voices that continued to reach her through her comms. Even through it all, she had managed to tune out everyone and everything around her, too focused on the touch that had lingered on her shoulder.

"You sure you're alright?" Price's voice echoed in her head.

He had pulled her aside minutes prior. His hand was on the bend of her elbow, guiding her away from the chopper she was ready to board. He was ever so concerned, an expression she had noticed often on his face, whether it was over something minor, like a soldier breaking a finger, or something major, like a mission gone wrong.

It was as though he was in a constant state of concern and worry.

A part of her felt almost responsible – guilty – as her problems, nay, her mere presence was bound to cause some sort of stress or worry. The way she had watched him go from disinterest and anger he held months ago during those first few weeks she was reintroduced into his life, to concern, and sometimes even happiness, was touching, really. The way he laughed whenever she told him a joke he had most definitely heard a million times before, or how patient he was with her when she, for the first time, experienced something basic that most would have experienced many times in their lives.

His concern was appreciated, but with the guilt of having killed someone from her past, and the many awful memories that were coming back to the surface as a result, she couldn't help but feel like she did not deserve his concern.

"I'll be fine," she assured him, her lips pulling into a small smile.

That wasn't a lie. Despite the turmoil she was currently feeling, she was trained to not allow her emotions get in the way. She would be fine, and she would see the mission to completion no matter what.

He raised a brow at her but decided to give her the benefit of the doubt, "Alright... but I'll need you to make me a promise."

She looked around for a moment, her eyes settling on the bright moonbeams that painted the ground and reflected off the windows. The silver light highlighted the side of his face, his eyes seeming sharper than always, the blues like the ocean on a cold winter's day.

"Okay," she whispered, her tongue wetting her slowly drying lips.

He took in a small breath, his eyes searching hers, "The moment it gets too much, I need you to tell me."

"I'm fine-"

"I understand that," His voice remained calm, assuring almost, "I understand that you're alright now, and that you were brought up – trained – not to... show... emotions, but this won't work in the long run. I need you on your best out there or else you become a liability; to me, yourself, and everyone else."

She just nodded, her eyes briefly drifting down to the tips of her shiny boots. She played with her fingers, her nails digging into the skin of her thumbs as she cleared her throat and looked back up at him.