Shadows of Truth and Deception (Levi • OC)

CHAPTER 32 - Shadow

shadow /ˈʃadəʊ/ — used in reference to a presence or figure, often with a sense of mystery or menace

     Everything moved in slow motion. Reinae watched blood spray on the window as Theo fell to the ground. She turned to see a man standing at the door, smoke swirling from his gun, his grey eyes drifting from the fallen target to her. She recognized him instantly, the memory from the file she had read still clear—it was Jannes Jensen, the third of Franklin's closest men.

     A rush of information resurfaced from what she'd read. He was the youngest among Franklin's elite, serving him since he was an orphaned ten-year-old. He was the assassin, doing all the killing no one could know about. He was a shadow, never anticipated, never leaving any trails, gone with the wind. And now, his emotionless eyes were on Reinae.

     She threw herself to the floor to avoid the bullet aimed at her. As she turned, her blade was in hand, and she cursed herself for not bringing any other weapon. Jannes fired again, hitting the wood where Reinae had been crouching just moments before. She leaped behind the desk, her heart racing. She looked at Theo on the ground and almost cried out in relief when she saw him breathing. The bullet had hit him through the shoulder, right above his heart. She prayed he'd survive long enough for her to deal with the threat that now chuckled, closing the door behind him.

     "You truly are a little bird, flying out of my gun's reach," he said, his voice as smooth as the dark night, quiet, deadly. "I must say, I prefer my targets in red. Black washes you out."

     Reinae gripped her blade tightly, her teeth clenching. Jensen being there must've been a coincidence. There was no way they expected her to sneak into the church of all places. And the mere fact he was there even further confirmed Franklin's involvement.

     "Such a shame Franklin wants you alive," he purred with genuine disappointment. "I could've had you dead in a split-itty moment."

     Another gunshot. Reinae froze when it pierced the wood of the table a hair's length from her head.

     "I didn't know guns were your style," she managed to squeeze through clenched teeth. "I thought you preferred slicing your victims open."

     "Oh, you're quite right," he chuckled. "But a dear friend of ours recently developed these beauties." She heard him juggle his weapon. "They're silent, so I like them. The only sound I like to hear when I'm working are screams."

     She couldn't help but shudder. Something about him made him far more terrifying than Petrov or Berger. Those two were predictable. Jensen, on the other hand, was not.

     "Come out, birdie, I don't have all day," he sighed, striding closer.

     "Yeah? Busy torturing priests?"

     She heard him freeze, then chuckle. "Oh, you're a smart birdie, aren't you." She heard him filling his gun with bullets. "Boss won't be happy with you knowing that, though."

     Reinae took a deep breath to calm herself. When she opened her eyes, they gleamed with a faint green glow.

     "Like I care," she murmured, and when he clicked the final bullet into his gun, she grabbed the edge of the table and swayed her body over, her foot kicking the weapon from his hand.

     She relished in the small victory for a split moment before her stomach sank as his hand caught her other foot, and he sent her flying into a set of shelves as if she were nothing. She collapsed to the ground, gasping for air that had been pushed out of her lungs by the impact.

     Jensen clicked his tongue as he bent down to pick up his gun. "Don't harm my baby," he pouted, brushing dust from the metal. "She's brand new."

     Reinae scrambled to her feet, her hand still clenching the dagger. They were standing too close—she couldn't dodge a bullet from that distance. Jensen smiled at her sweetly.