Yara |18+|

02

YARA

Vico Alvaro's name didn't leave my mind for two days.

An unfamiliar feeling had settled in the pit of my stomach. Uneasiness? Excitement? Or was I just plain-out shit scared for the aftermath of killing one of the most notorious leaders in the city? I went with the former, convincing myself that Mario had trained me well enough to be successful in whatever the fuck I tried.

He did, and he'd have my head on a stick for even thinking otherwise.

The walk to Mario's office was tedious, and I found my mind dwelling to Vico once again while my fingers twirled my beloved blade between my fingertips. My heels hitting the tiles were the only sound in the corridor, clinking loudly and bouncing off the walls.

The sterile, clean environment was going to be the last thing I missed. The smell of disinfectant and bleach stung my nose and I ignored it with the thought that I'd never have to be there after tonight.

If everything went according to plan, I'd be gone the next day and living a life far from all the death I caused.

Reaching Mario's door, he called me in before I had the chance to knock. With a push of my hand, the door swung open and I found Mario behind his desk with his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. I inhaled deeply, relieved to be out of the nauseating scent.

"Don't mind the smell," he said, and I knew that it meant he finished a job in that very office. "Have a seat, Yara."

I dragged my feet over to the chair opposite him and sat down, quickly stuffing my blade back into the little pocket on my thigh. My blade was one thing I wasn't going to let go of and despite the memories clinging onto it, it was mine and I couldn't let it go.

Mario was quiet for a while as he typed away on his computer and I leaned back, enjoying the cool breeze blasting out of his air-con.

"This is him," Mario murmured, quickly spinning his computer around to show me the screen.

My eyes drifted down, and I inched closer the second I saw his face on the screen. That's Vico? I didn't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't that. For a brief moment, I was stunned out of words to say.

Vico was a violent killer and he looked like one too. From his brunette hair, to the cold and dead look in his eyes paired with a slight smirk on his lips, I could instantly tell that he wasn't one to fuck with. His entire appearance screamed power, and I felt a chill run down my spine at the thought of taking it away it from him.

"Not what you expected?" Mario asked, eyeing me.

"No," I shook my head. "I was expecting an old fucker with a beer belly."

Mario chuckled, dragging his computer back to him. "Lucky for you, Vico is only five years older than you. And he's far from an old fucker with a beer belly."

"Lucky for me?" I repeated, raising a brow. "That makes everything a lot more difficult."

Why? Because older men were a lot more naïve. They were stupider and almost always thought with the smallest head they have. Men approaching sixty, or seventy were easily manipulated, and I couldn't say the same for a man just five years older than me. I felt my heart sink, and I knew that it showed on my face. Ten years of experience and I never got used to the feeling of being scared. Still, I couldn't wait to get it done with.

Am I going crazy?

"You're right," he said. "But don't let this bring you down. He's still a man."