SHUT DOWN | JENLISA

31

Jennie

I could make a man fall at my feet with one glance. They even had a name for those seducing looks and glances. It took a while for me to master it, for me to perfect my stare. They called it siren eyes.

Of course, they named it after a Greek mythological creature that brought sailors down to their deaths with a song. I mean, you could tell a man named it, but that was neither here nor there. A man could fall so quickly at my feet that it could almost be deemed as pathetic.

As a woman, you truly never get used to the catcalling, the slut-shaming, or the way men leer at you as if you were a piece of steak.

They looked like dogs and acted like dogs, yet dogs were loyal. Dogs obeyed and listened to their master. With men, it wasn't the case. Men weren't loyal to anyone but themselves. I had men all around me.

Working with me, guarding me, protecting me, and I've worked alongside men, around men, and over the years, you begin to learn some tell-tale signs. You begin to think like them. So deviously. So murderously.

And when you do like them, suddenly you're the enemy. You're the bitch who thinks too highly of herself. Men praise men, but men never praise women. It was a mere contradiction. One I've memorised like the back of my hand. You see, I didn't believe in second chances, and it was rare that I offered them.

The man tied to the chair before me was given the rare second chance, and instead of using it to his advantage, he betrayed me. He went behind my back and not only attempted to steal from me but hired a man to kill me.

The assassin was a very well-known and intelligent sniper. I've used his intelligence and skill set on a handful of people before. We shared a mutual respect for each other. So when he called me and told me of what Marcus had asked of him, I paid him double to walk away.

"Do what you want with me, Jennie. I know death is near, and I don't care!" The man spat rather bravely. I'd give him that. I eyed him for a moment. No man was ever prepared to die. Words were words, and men were like the apes they evolved from. His eye was closed up, and his lip was cut. Blood dripped down his lips and chin, and I knew my men had done a number on him. His ribs were probably broken, and his chest was bruised, but I didn't want him to die. No, not yet.

I waved my gun around as I took a step back. "Do you hear that? He doesn't care."

The men behind me laughed and snickered, and I seized playing with the gun in my hand and placed it back in its holster.

"Death is not near, my old friend." I stood up. "Death will be on my terms. You die when I allow you to die." I turned to my men and gave them a silent order.

Keep him alive. But barely.

"Yes, boss."