Kill Or Be Killed

Chapter One

Scale Number: 1

Sitting in the driver's seat of one of his multiple vehicles, Kalayavan looked up from the folder he was studying in his lap. The skilled eyes of a killer occasionally wandering to the front of the local drugstore in the small backwoods town. He normally stayed away, but a job brought him here and he couldn't stop himself from checking in.

When there was no activity around the entrance, he returned his gaze to the papers in front of him. It wasn't often he was forced to return to North Spades, normally sticking closer to the center of Grandair; the heart of the northern continent. It was the Capital that usually brought in the most contracts because there was more crime there.

But that didn't stop the bad men from occupying the smaller towns too. His target for example was a sleazy small town business owner who abused his female workers. Even the picture that staring up at him from an office personal file was clear the man was a class A scumbag. With his shit brown eyes arrogantly staring at the camera with a soulless grin, thinning hair was combed back with enough grease to run an entire car lot. Clearing his large wrinkled forehead and exposing the layers of wrinkles that pushed his bushy eyebrows down from the weight. Under the photo a basic layout of his information; name, address, phone number, and occupation.

It was times like his that Kalayavan loved the point of his existence. In his work, there were people who were killed, and there were people who did the killing.

He very much enjoyed being one of those who took the lives of others, which is why he was the best in his grouping. Classified under the class of Sepireer, trained in all forms of combat instead of specializing in one specific set of skills. This is why when someone got a hold of the 'aid-line', it was meant to be hard to find and expensive to get your hands on. Since it was such a powerful contract. Then when you did, it was ten times the worth to set the bounty and impossible to call it off.

Although, in this particular scenario, he wasn't taking the woman's money, happily ready to dispatch someone like this pig from the world.

That didn't mean he didn't have other 'whales' who kept his pockets overflowing.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Katelyn."

Her voice reached him through his window, which was halfway down. A sound that he would never admit out loud, was the only thing that made his heart beat. Even if it was supposed to be the job he was born to live for; which it had been, until her.

Looking up again, happy for the distraction that was Caterina Clade.

Her nearly white hair was pulled up neatly in a flawless ballet bun. He watched her like a hawk as she walked to the curb, her short light blue sundress swaying around her thighs while the strapless top dripped far too low for his liking. Exposing the tops of those plump breasts, not allowing them to spill out but just enough for other men to ogle at.

He forced his hands from the folder to the steering wheel, gripping it so tightly his knuckles turned pale. Kal hated her wearing something so revealing, wanting her body saved for his eyes alone. Even if she didn't know he existed, for now. For now he assumed she had an outlet, not that he liked to think about it, since he didn't fancy the idea of some other man touching what belonged to him. Even if he hadn't seen her with another man, hoping she was still in mourning and wanted no one else.

But when he came into her life, he would be the only man for her, in time she would know nothing but him. No mourning period would stop her from cumming harder than she ever has in her entire life. All of her senses would be flooded with the beast of a male specimen.

After all, if there was no one else he was sure she must have had plenty of pent-up energy, as it's been a little over a year since her husband died in a car 'accident'. One that Kalayavan may or may not have been paid to stage by a powerful man.