Page 19 of Sing For Us

“I know. You looked at her like she hung the moon.”

“Do you think that she truly loved me?” I don’t dare to look at Sara because I don’t want to see the truth. My friend pats me on the back and pinches my neck.

“Look at me, Noa.” I wish I didn’t. Sara’s eyes are filled with pity. “She did. Lana is a master manipulator, but she couldn’t fake that.”

“Fake what?” I ask her, and she lets go of my neck.

“Being your little hummingbird.” I close my eyes and let myself feel the weight of Sara’s statement. I grip the bench hard, and even this fucking thing reminds me of her. It takes me back to when I fucked her against the bench in my maze.

“What do I do about it?” I hope Sara has a solution to my problem.

“You could look her up and talk to her.” What the actual fuck? My sadness is replaced by utter confusion.

“Why the fuck would I talk to her? I would kill her, and vice versa.”

“It’s just a suggestion. Is there something else on your mind?” Being honest with Sara is something she expects of me, so I try my best to be just that. Honest.

“Okay. I never told anyone how I feel about the following. It’s about the little girl who saw me kill her father.” She turns toward me and listens intently. My mind is racing, and my hands are getting clammy–reactions I always get whenever I think about her.

“Even after six years?” Sara asks.

“Yes. I even told Lana about this.”

“Maybe that’s why she doesn’t trust you. You need to talk to her.”

“How? I don’t know where she is.”

“I’ll ask Hana to look for her. In the meantime, I think you need a distraction.” My ears perk up. “Before I got down here, Oliver received a request for a hit.”

“Who requested it?” My interest is growing by the second, and I let go of the bench.

“The Federal Minister of Security. A human trafficker they can’t catch showed up on their radar.”

“Who?”

“Sebastian Francois.” Sebastian Francois is a known human trafficker from France, and a general piece of shit. He is detailed in his work, and he stayed off the radar for quite some time, but not anymore. He grew bold, and with that, he became a target. Arrogance is one of the main reasons people get caught in this industry.

“Tell Oliver I’ll do the hit.”

“Done. The Minister wants us to do it because there is a prize on Sebastian’s head.”

“Let me guess, the first assassin who gets him is going to ask the Minister for a ridiculous amount of money, otherwise blackmail ensues?” Sara nods at my assessment, and I smile—a genuine one.

“Do we have everything planned?” I ask her.

“Yes. Everything is ready to go. Oliver and Hana will brief you.”

“Good,” I stand up, but stop as a thought occurs to me. “Don’t you think that Oliver and Josh are getting close with Hana?” Sara shrugs and shoos me off.

“They have always been close. Now, get to Oliver and figure out how you are going to nail that bastard Sebastian.”

Chapter eight

Lana

“It won’t graze you.” I hold one of four knives in my hands and plant my feet firmly on the floor of my training room. I shake my arms a couple of times and crack my neck. Training should stay one of the most important aspects of an assassin’s life—the reason why I want to throw daggers at one of my guards now. They all knew from the start that this was a part of wanting to be employed by me: that and a hefty financial compensation.

“I know. Hit me with your best shot.” Lionel, an employee from the States, dares me. He is standing behind a large cardboard box, painted in circles for target practice. Psychological torture, battle strategy, and close combat are my forte, but I do well with knives. Not perfect—and perfection is all I am chasing.