Farfalla

1.) Scope

"Shìt" I hiss.

My latest target has just disappeared from my scope right before I could pull the trigger.

Bruce Daren. Scummy, cheating politician. His wife has enlisted me to take him out. She caught him balls deep in their housekeeper, fúcking her brains out onto their satin sheets.

With the buckets of money Bruce's wife will receive from his life insurance policy, she will be set for years. Poor bastard. Doesn't even know what's coming.

I shiver on top of the roof of his manor as the snow starts to fall faster. Shifting to find Bruce, I readjust my sniper to re-focus on his head in the lawn below.
He rapidly fires curses into his phone and storms off in the direction of his house. I duck quickly so he can't see me and grow irritated. Growling under my breath I snap the scope off the shaft and toss my gun into it's case.

"Fùck this." Instead of making this quick and easy with a bullet I have to use stealth and lithe with a curved blade.

I throw the strap of my bag over my right shoulder and rush to the door that leads downstairs. I make my way into the hall beside the living room. Flattening against the wall I listen for Bruce's heavy footsteps.

Yes. This feeling. My heart beating steady and strong. Veins filling with adrenaline. Locking myself into the mode of a cold-blooded killer.

"You don't understand. I need the money now!... I don't give two flying fúcks about Vince. I need out of this deal-" And those are Bruce Daren's last words.

With senses only a highly trained assassin can retain I grasp the dagger strapped to my inner thigh and spin around to face the scummy politician. Gripping the hilt with my forefinger and thumb I hurl the knife towards him with deadly precision.

The curved blade strikes Bruce in the heart. A hoarse gasp escapes his mouth, blood running down his chin and soaking his shirt. He falls to his knees, clutching his chest, the phone clatters to the floor.

I slowly walk towards him. I stand above his spasming body, studying his pained expression. He begins to hiccup, trying to communicate with me. His dying blue eyes stare back into mine.

Sweeping my dark thoughts from my mind, I watch Bruce keel over onto his side and take his last breath.

"Finalmente." I grumble under my breath.

Flicking my midnight black hair out of my face I rip my bloody dagger from his lifeless body. Retrieving my phone from my bag I dial the all too familiar number.

"Donny."

His tired voice fills my ear, "Dónde ahora, Liliana?"

"Why do you say it like that?" I joke.

"This the fifth job this week, chica. When will you take a break?" My mouth sets into a grim line. Donny is always worried about my well-being when there is no reason to be. I like to kill and I like to fúck. No other lifestyle could be more perfect.

"Don't worry, primito. You know I am okay. Just send your men over and I will transfer your share." I cut the line and text my cousin this address.

Donny will send his men over to clean up this mess and dump the politician into the Hudson, then I can be on my merry way.

I don't care that I just ended someone's life. I like the rush I feel when I complete a mission. Scratching another target off my To-Do list.

Now I'm free to return to my boyfriend, who's waiting for me in our apartment. I smile, giddy at the thought of Anndrei. He never questions me and understands that I only enjoy few things in life. Fùcking and killing. Which is the perfect pairing, in my world.

Being an assassin is a tough job- for pùssies. Which I'm not. Dealing with the constant guilt of taking one's life is horrid. Funny thing is, I don't feel guilt or remorse. No sorrow, pain or sense of wrongdoing.

I feel nothing.

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