Page 14 of Assassin: Part 1

I’m going to find this woman one day, and I’m going to enjoy killing her. But not before I get to taste her and have her begging. I’ve earned that much.

I meant what I said. My voice will be the last thing she ever hears, even when she’s screaming her final breath.

6

LANE

ONE YEAR LATER

My obsession with this man isn’t healthy. It’s to the point I’m seriously considering if I should talk to a shrink, and I fucking hate those quacks. I mean, how can someone like me want a man like him? A man who would rather see me dead than fuck me?

Well, that might be a bit of stretch, because every man wants to fuck the woman they hate. Deep down, they want to punish and own them, and Ilya is no exception. Watching him from afar, even when I’m moving around the globe, is getting trickier. His hackers are onto my surveillance, but I never let them catch me. Though, they have been close a few times, but only because I enjoy the thrill as I sneak out.

I hate myself for taking these stupid risks, but I can’t seem to help it. The pleasure I get from him almost catching me is the best form of edging there is.

The power of knowing how close I am, and he doesn’t suspect a thing? Euphoric.

This time, I was seconds away from getting caught before I logged out and sent through a virus to keep them busy for a while. It won’t wipe out their servers, but it will inconvenience them and their operation for a little bit.

Coding is another talent I learned to excel at. Who knew it would come in handy to toy with a Pakhan?

I did get in enough to find out Ilya has a meeting at his club tonight, and he has an escort hired to go with him. Jealousy burns. Hot, dangerous, and something I haven’t felt in a long damn time. It’s also something I can’t allow to affect me. Emotions have no place in this life.

How many times was that beaten into me as a child? Until I learned to feel nothing but what they told me to. It’s suited me well. Until now.

I hate Ilya for that alone. Making me feel things? It’s a power I refuse to allow him.

I turn back to my computer and pull up the file sent to me. I have a target to find and plans to make. Thinking about Ilya Romanov is done. Business only.

I only have tonight to facilitate my plan before I have to deal with a new contract that came through. One that will take me back to Russia.

I really am starting to hate that place.

Thankfully, my target, Noah Laurier, is as clueless with electronics as many are. He thinks he’s untouchable, even with his mediocre encryption. I easily get through them, checking his messages but finding nothing new or unexpected. The man has many women’s names in his phone, but that’s not what I’m looking for.

No, Noah is a man who loves women a little too much. He loves them so much that when he’s not seducing women into his bed, his little side venture is drugging, kidnapping, raping, and mutilating them. After taking them back to his big house, he puts them in his basement of horrors, chains them up, and tortures them to the point that when he drops them off in the middle of nowhere, they’re unrecognizable.

It takes my mind back to the fat fucker Ilya’s niece was taken by. Only, Noah doesn’t dismember them. No, he wants to humiliate them one final time. The sick bastard doesn’t even bother to hide behind a condom, so sure he’s never going to get caught. With his status, money, and connections, he thinks he’s untouchable.

I suppose being the son of a well-known billionaire businessman in this country certainly helps. Or the fact his father is a key player in laundering money for the Bratva. Mostly for big names in Russia trying to expand their reach, but it’s enough of a connection for me.

Noah wants to follow in his father’s footsteps, and what began as a way to show how worthy he was to join the family business has turned into an obsession. One that’s getting noticed by members of the Bratva.

The Bratva want him dead for threatening to expose them, even remotely. The order came down, and I’m all too happy to play my role. One less asshole in the world.

Noah’s so sure his father will come to his rescue if something bad happens. How wrong he is. I’m going to enjoy painting the walls red with his blood and creating more pretty pictures to add to my collection.

Now to figure out my disguise.

I look back through the photos of the girls he murdered; his type is easily recognizable. Darker hair, eye color doesn’t matter, but each woman has similar facial features. Looks like someone has some issues he’s working out. I’ll figure out who it is before I’m finished with him—my money’s on his mommy. For now, I need to get to work on ensuring I fit his type. I’m not going to take him tonight, though. I need to do a bit more investigating, but why not let him see me, let him think about what he can do to me?

It will only make killing him that much sweeter.

By the time I’m ready, I don’t look a thing like me. The wonders of cosmetics, prosthetics, and hair dye. I stare at myself for a moment, taking in every inch to make sure I haven’t missed anything. There can be no mistakes. Not tonight.

I’ve let my hair grow out the last few months, and it’s back to its original length and thickness. Except now, it’s dyed a dark-chocolate brown that in the lights of a nightclub will appear practically black. I’ve spiced up my makeup to appear smoky and seductive, framing my eyes perfectly. And that was a bitch to do, trust me. All those influencers who do this all the fucking time, yeah, they can keep it.

To make sure my identity remains a secret, I used a prosthetic to change my nose and added in a small stud piercing, changed the shape of my ears, and put in blue colored contacts. I’m wearing a black sparkling dress that hugs every curve and shows off my freshly shaved legs. The dress is short enough that it flirts with indecent but long enough I can hide my small knife in case it’s needed.