The Assassin

The Aftermath

The world was quiet around me. I sat on a bar stool, empty glass on a coaster in front of me. The smell of stale cigarettes and spilt alcohol burned my nose, but I steadily ignored it, trying to ignore the feeling of anguish rising up in my chest.

I buried my hands in my hair, groaning in frustration. It had been three months since my last mark. Three months since I had even looked at an offer. The businessmen's money would hold me over for a year so that meant I didn't have to take a job until then. I buried my fingers into my hair. So, why then, did I feel so damn pitiful!? I threw the glass across the room and reveled in the sound of it shattering against the wall.

I felt the adrenaline start to fade once more. Sea's face flashed across my mind, taunting me. I saw the familiar look of betrayal that haunted my dreams on his handsome face. God! I had been so stupid! I should have killed them both in Paris! Now I was stuck with feelings I didn't understand and remorse that I didn't want. Somehow, I had grown fond of Sebastian. I had only spent three months with him, but I had learned to love him. I wasn't attached, I had told myself. What. A. Big. Fucking. Lie.

"Miss Thomas," a familiar voice murmured from behind me. I didn't turn to him. I kept my eyes on the oak bar in front of me. This young company owner had been one of the businessmen to give me $4 million to off two of the most dangerous thieves in the world. I ran a hand through my hair and straightened it out. I turned to him. He was flawless. He stood in a pressed suit and his dark hair was slicked back and out of his face. He was the epitome of success and I secretly envied him. His life was guaranteed. He knew exactly what direction he was heading in.

"What do you want, Mr. Park?" I drawled, tracing a line across the surface of the bar. He had tried contacting me several times through men, but I had refused to see him. Now he had come himself. "Was my message not clear enough for you? I told you, you never had to see me again."

"Miss Thomas," he stepped towards me, straightening out his cuffs. He gave the room a look of disapproval before settling his hard gaze on me. "You can't keep wallowing in self pity--" I snorted, standing up on my stool to reach behind the bar--where the hell had the bartender run off to? What was his name? Owen? Oscar?-- and grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a new glass.

"Look, Park," I glanced up at him, pouring myself a glass, "I'm not 'wallowing in pity' as you say. I'm simply taking a break and enjoying my money." I shrugged, setting the bottle down to look at him. He frowned at me and crossed his arms.

"Enjoying your money in a dump like this?" He raised a brow. I rolled my eyes.

"Get to the point," I gestured to him with my glass and leaned back against the bar, sipping at my drink. I was mildly interested in what he had to say to me, face to face.

"You're making yourself look like a fool," he started. I narrowed my eyes, "you are an assassin of the highest caliber and you're drinking it up like some Vegas whore. You grew attached to your mark and when they time came to kill him, you destroyed a piece of yourself." I was out of my seat in an instant. I had his back against a table with my arm over his chest. The knife I had tucked away in my waist was unsheathed and pressed against his throat faster than he could blink. He stared up at me triumphantly.

"You don't know a fucking thing, Mr. Park," I hissed through my teeth, "I would watch your next words very carefully because I'm not afraid to kill without a reward." There was a flash of trepidation in his eyes, but he carried on.

"People are talking. Your name is good, but my fellow associates are talking about disposing of you. You've grown weak," he taunted. I felt my blood temperature start to rise. He was truly pushing his luck. "I want to help you regain your reputation." I frowned at him. I took a step away from him. Fine, I'll take the bait.