Nodding, I arch a brow. “Yeah, why do you ask?”
“You always get this look on your face when you speak abouthim.”
I run my fingers over my fox charm, tracing over the diamond eyes. It arrived the very next day by courier at the spa, where I was licking my wounds of embarrassment. And so began the gifts. Each mission—each and every holiday, he leaves me something, piquing my anger and interest. The two have been warring within me since.
It’s that moment of danger, the one lurking after I bashed in Sonja’s face until she was unrecognizable. It shot straight to my pussy. I’m quite sure I would’ve probably combusted if he weren’t there to lend his tongue to a woman in need.
Sighing, I exit the room, striding towards the elevator. All this talk about the faceless stranger who’s made me addicted to his touch to the point where no one else can make me come, irks all parts of my soul.
“Tati.” I turn to the sound of Nyx’s voice. She curls her finger, signaling for me to follow her.
Our steps are in sync as she continues. “There’s been news about the Gordon family murder.”
“There’s been news about the Gordon family murder.”
The words loop on repeat until I become nauseous.
“Not now, Tat,” I command, hoping my self-reprimand will erase the words from my memory. At this point, I think I would much rather her not tell me anything related to my adoptive parents.
But it was what we’ve been waiting for.
The reminder does little to ease my racing thoughts as I set myself up on the rooftop of the forty-story Jacobi Hotel and Spa Resort.
Chuckling, I recall the first time I met the Jacobi heirs. Those fucking Jacobi twins are pains in the ass, but I get it. The easy smile slips off my face. The loss of their sister set them on their path of vengeance—one I have every intention of helping see through.
Wind whips across my face, blowing strands of my blonde-braided wig wildly in the night. Illuminated by stars in the clear night sky, I lay out the disposal go bag, unsealing it from its compressed state.
“Go with the blonde braid,she said. It’ll be perfect,she said,” I mutter, regretting my hairstyle of choice.
Unzipping my duffel, I quickly grab a large hair elastic and wrap my ponytail into a bun. The hair won’t be on in a bit, but I can’t have it fucking up my record. Between this and Nyx’s words—“There are bigger players connected to your parents and adoptive parents’ deaths,”—my head isn’t clear.
Determined to reset, I begin my setup. Taking my time to wipe downLady Death. She’s in pristine condition, as my sniper rifle should be, but one can’t be too sure. Then, I double and triple-check the contents of the go bag. There’s a change of clothes, color contacts, a pair of glasses, a black slip dress, and a pair of satin black Manolo Blahnik knee-high boots.
“Shit,” I hiss. “I grabbed the wrong bag.”
My after snipe look is far more inconspicuous. Leggings, some Docs, and an off-the-shoulder tee. This fancy shit is usually for the Widow.
“No, you didn’t,” comes through the comms.
I don’t bother with a response, knowing it will be something I’m not in the mood to hear. Instead, I begin.
Mount the scope, Tati.
I push Nyx’s words and whatever clusterfuck assignment will require me to play dress-up Barbie out of my head.
It’s time to focus.
Living things are inherently selfish, falling somewhere on the narcissism spectrum. It’s embedded in their DNA. They don’t use phrases like‘only the strongest survive,’or‘survival of the fittest,’for no reason. Adaptabilityis survival, and all living things have a default setting to stay alive.
My brain eases into action, every move more seamless than the last, as I continue to recenter myself. I can’t afford to fuck this up. Not one misstep is allowed.
Barring all other potential distractions, I continue.
Install the scope rings.
So it’s safe to say that all humans possess narcissistic traits, but not all humans are narcissists. It’s often ignored how humans unconsciously center themselves. Even the earnest concern is rooted in some form of an “I” or “Me” statement. ‘If only I had known, I could’ve done something—Vote for me, I can fix it.’
I arch a brow, smirking at all the times concern was laced in self-aggrandizement.
