His Little Murderess

The Call

Part 1 - The Call <Cora's P.O.V.>

"Cora, get in here now!" My head snaps up at the sound of my fathers voice. He's yelling from his office in the back of the house. The annoyance that is his voice caries throughout the building to my spot in the living room. I stand up from the couch, stretch my stiff limbs and begin heading towards his office.

I push through the crowd of morons my father calls employees, huffing my annoyance as I continue to my destination. The disgusting feeling of sweat, and the nauseating smell of stale vomit drifts from many of the men I brush past. It's all I can do to keep my lunch in my stomach. For a bunch of 'macho' men, they sure don't know how to keep up appearances. Many of the men I walk by have vomit on their shirts and are passed out in random places in even weirder positions.

I cross over the office's threshold and lean against the wall, arms folded over my chest, my gaze hard and calculated. He may be my father, but his love for me doesn't go beyond that title. I'm just another trained weapon he has at his disposal. "You wanted me?" I do my best to keep the irritation out of my voice, and by the look on Darious' face, I apparently haven't done very well.

The all too familiar cold shadow pressing on my side reminds me of the gun on my hip. The scenes playing in my head bring a small smirk to my lips. The one person I want to kill, and ironically enough, I can't get within ten feet without raising some sort of suspicion.

"Well, Cora," Sarcasm and cold malice drip off his voice in such a thick layer I can almost see it.  "I'm sorry to disturb your busy day, but you have a new assignment. Mr.Taylor has called and asked for you personally. He claims to need the best for this task of his, and has deemed you fit for such a title. Humph," The shock at hearing that specific name causes me to see black spots. My dads obvious display of disbelief in my abilities usually would've left me seeing red, but with Kadem Taylor's name being thrown around  there's no time for personal issues.

The shit that comes to mind about who Kadem Taylor makes my blood run cold, something that doesn't happen to a predatory killer like me. If one were to see me as a cold-blooded killer, then in their eyes Kaden would be the devil himself. This is a man without mercy. Someone who kills for fun, without reason, without batting an eye, all on an impulsive decision. He doesn't always think things through, but it's the things he does think about that make him so dangerous. He's mysterious. A time bomb, my dad calls him. Everyone in our world seems to believe that he will eventually snap, and that one should pray they aren't around for such a day.

"No." I didn't say anything else. I simply said no. Dad can go to hell for all I care. You don't get where Kadem Taylor is by being safe and careful. No, you get there by never having morals, never having any compassion. By being emotionless, cut off, cold, murderous. Not excusing my actions, and saying I'm above him, but at least I have compassion for some of my victims. I may be a cold-hearted killer but I still have some of my humanity intact.

"You're doing it, Cora. No if's, and's, or but's. You're going, and Caleb is driving you over to make sure you actually go. I don't need you embarrassing me. It's an honor to be summoned by him and you will go. You are representing us, so act like it. You want to lead after I step down, so get your fucking attitude in check before I do it my fucking self. Now, Jason will follow in your car so that you have it. Have fun daughter," Without another word, Dad pulls his handgun from his waist and places it on his desk with a smile. His moronic display of 'male' effectively cuts off the conversation before I can respond with some sort of angry, snarky remark.

What in the hell? I can't believe he just expects me to do this without hesitation.

He knows what this man has done. Hell, Taylor is his boss, if anyone has an account of what he's done, it would be him.

You know what? Fuck it.

If I want the family business when I get older I need to prove to him that I can get shit done. But one day, my dad will see that I am not one to be fucked with. Not one to be told what to do either. There is more to my small frame than he thinks. I may look like a child, but I'm far from it.

I give Dad a small nod and quietly turn around and leave. After years of handling him, nothing can surprise me. If I were to believe a father would send his daughter to the Devil, I would first look to my own Dad.

I quickly stop by my spare room. I use it for when a job runs late into the night and I can't risk heading home. I slip in and grab my favorite handgun, a Smith, and Weston. I change into black leggings and a gray cotton shirt so I have easy movement. I lace on my boots, throw my hair in a neat bun and run to find Caleb.

Today is gonna be hell. And all because of that damn phone call.