My Fathers Killer

WHISPER - Chapter 7

June 11th

Every murder has a past; a reason for why they became 'cold-blooded'.

It's usually because of money issues, or family issues- well, that's what they'll tell you anyway.

I was once like that- I once said my story started because of someone else, it was never my fault. I truly believed that.

I suppose the day I actually matured was the day I took accountability. Bad things happen to everyone, but not everyone ends up as an assassin, a killer; someone to be feared.

I took the role of victim, and I was one. However, that wasn't the cause of the blood on my hands. Every choice I made after the event was the true cause.

Killing is like a drug, it's a high you chase, something that changes who you are for the rest of your life. It ruins relationships and families; it makes relationships and families.

It's not something to be proud of... unless you're a part of the underworld. Here, how many deaths you have on your name is like a currency, and if you have zero, you're at the bottom.

It's almost like the exact opposite of the normal world. While if you've killed many up there, you're shunned upon and locked up for life, if not killed; you lose everyone and spend your remaining days as a picture on the wall of a stone room.
While down here, the more people you kill, the more people love you, the more money you have, the more respect you have, the more inferior everyone else is.

Since finding out how the name 'Whisper' looks in my form, I've kept a close eye on Lucian. I know where he lives, who he's doing business with, who his allies and enemies are...Unfortunately, that will never be enough to match the benefits he could get from knowing my face and knowing where I live.

I don't fucking like that.

I got messy in the satisfaction of taking Mikhaíls life and now I'm paying for it.
I can only hope that Lucian, unlike his father, has some morality, but I just don't believe that to be true.

I stand in front of the floor-length mirror as I strap protection over the black leggings that cover my legs before I do the same to the skin-tight black shirt on my torso. I grab my mask from the holder and tie it midway up my nose behind my Dutch braids.

My boots clack as I walk down and out of my house, I swing my leg over my bike, set my helmet on and speed off.

It takes almost 20 minutes to get to Lucian's location. There's a large iron gate, guarded by 6 men, that leads to a long winding road surrounded by miles of forest trees, and finally, to the unusually large driveway that sits in front of the castle-like mansion that houses him and his closest men.

I stand up off my bike and slide my helmet off

I don't kill people that I don't need to, it's unnecessary. Unnecessary blood, unnecessary pain, unnecessary lives.

I'll just knock the guards out for a little while.

I check my pocket for the syringes; all seven where they're supposed to be. One for each and one to spare.

I start my silent walk up to the gate, hiding from the gaze of the guards.

My back slides across the brick wall before I crouch behind a bush. I take the first syringe from the pouch and make a silent run to the closest man. I jump onto his back, covering his mouth and nose with my hand before stabbing the needle into his neck. He bats around trying to push me off but to no avail; only moments until he becomes weary and falls to the ground. I catch his weight before he can make a noise, and drag him out of sight of the 5 remaining guards who haven't noticed a thing.