There’s a weight of something similar, something shared that presses against my chest as I watch Alex, Varsha, and Cigs, all lost in thought as they process every detail. We’ve all been maimed by men in our lives – those who thought they could win over us because in their eyes, we were weak. Because in their minds, we were things to be used, to be tortured and abused, both mentally and physically. I’ll never forget the smell of my blood from all those years ago; all the pain I endured, and the knots in my stomach from the nights where hunger was the greatest enemy I had to face, among others. And my crew has seen horrors of their own – all brutal and soul-chilling – butthat doesn’t mean they are immune to them. If anything, our hardships have made us feel more, understand more. They’ve taught us to keep our empathy alive, but only for those who need it, and not for those who deceitfully ask for it.
As humans, we have instincts – ones that give us a sense of truths and lies. Some of us are unfazed enough to pick one of the other in dire situations, while others choose to ignore the signs and continue to stay in the dark. The crew and I are better nowbecausewe decided that we were enough; that we deserved the complete opposite of the behavior with which we were being treated. And in this lifetime, if we can bring a few of the many offenders out there to their knees and make them realize the extremity of their wrongs, then we’ll do it. And we won’t fucking hesitate.
Solo lets go of a breath, and I hear the soft groaning of leather on the other side. “Estate exits?” he asks by way of a diversion.
“Main door, foyer, and Aras’s bedroom on the first floor,” I answer.
“You decided on a kill order yet?”
My crew looks at me all at once, and for some reason, that makes me pause for a second.
Fuck.
“Dor?” says Solo.
“Yeah.” I swallow. “Yeah, I have.” I rub a hand over my jaw to release some of the tension there. “According to Aras, Jedediah is a top-priority kill. So, it makes sense to finish him off first, since Aras has promised the rest of the payment after receiving proof of Jedediah’s death. Once he’s done with, it would only be natural to target Selina next. I say we go for Timothy last, sincehis death could create quite a ruckus among the guests, given his family’s status in this city.”
“And we leaveimmediatelyafter we’re done with him to avoid the state of panic that will most likely ensue,” Cignette adds.
I nod. “Precisely. We signed up for the kills, not for the damage control that’ll come after. We do our job and get out, period.”
“I’m good with it, so long as we don’t accidentally encounter Timothy first,” Alex adds.
“Why would we?” Varsha asks. “And let’s say we do, then we’ll keep track of him but stay away until it’s his turn.”
“It’s not that easy,” Solo states. “He’s young, restless. If he finds a hot body to take home early on, he might not stay for the Founder’s Day fireworks. He’s notorious for his fuckboy lifestyle, after all.”
“What else do you know about him?” Cignette asks.
“Not much, unfortunately. But I’ll do as much digging as I can before you kids head for the Lutkus estate tonight. I’ll keep you posted.”
“Thanks, Solo,” I say, then face my crew. “You guys ready for this?”
“Hell yeah,” Varsha says.
Alex nods, then gently nudges my shoulder with his. “Always got your back, boss.”
I smile and ruffle his hair, then look to my right when Cignette twines her hand with mine and shifts towards me.
“We’ve got this,” she says, then uses her other hand to cup the side of my neck. “You’vegot this. I know you fucking do.”
I bend and press my forehead to hers, then let go of a sigh. “I know,” I whisper, then close my eyes. “I know.”
5.
Istraighten my back as I fix my hair, then rub my lips together as I quickly glance at myself in the viewfinder before facing my camera. “Hey, guys! I amsoexcited to finally sit down and film today’s video for you. You lot have been asking me forweeksnow to give you my honest opinion on…” I trail off, feeling completely blank. I blink at the camera’s lens, then swallow and exhale through my lips as I ready myself to redo the intro, only to get tongue-tied a second time.
“Fuck,” I whisper as I dab the pads of my forefingers under my eyes to make sure my concealer isn’t creasing.
My eyes land on the open glass window in the bedroom, and on the beaming morning light as it invades the space, brightening it.
I can’t focus on anything other than thoughts of tonight’s gala. I spent over an hour on my makeup, and around forty-five minutes setting up my filming background and equipment in the bedroom. The massive PR box fromTory Burchis staring at me from where I’ve placed it on a small table to my left, but I simply can’t bring myself to grab it, let alone move it from its place.
Heaving a sigh, I loosen my shoulders and sit up straight again. I fix the collar of my white broderie anglaise dress and fluff my hair, but as soon as I see my reflection in the viewfinder, I frown and slump in on myself.
This is a waste of fucking time; I am too distracted to work right now. Despite asking myself not to act paranoid earlier, Istill feel restless. I can’t help it; my brain just won’t stop thinking in overtime. The ‘what ifs’ and various possible outcomes of our actions keep occupying my headspace, and try as I might, I can’t get rid of them.
I turn off my camera and switch off my ring light, then get to my feet and walk over to the bed. Grabbing my phone from the nightstand, I climb onto the mattress, and with a loud huff, face-plant onto it.
