The Target

Lucy

With a wide grin on his face, Alpha Jax folded his hands together and remarked, "Perfect, enjoy the rest of your night."

Swiftly, he turned around and walked towards the door, his men following closely behind.

"Wait," I called out, making him halt in his tracks.

"Is there a problem, Angel of Death?" he responded, turning around slowly, his expression a mix of curiosity and impatience.

I stood up from my seat, gently placing the glass back on the table and wiping the remnant of the whiskey from my lips. "This guy," I began, holding up the photograph, "you still haven't told me why you want to kill him so desperately."

Alpha Jax twitched his face as if displeased with my question. "That's my business, Night Star," he replied curtly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "And your business is to make sure he dies."

"I know, I know," I responded, glancing at the picture once more. "But this guy, he looks so majestic, almost perfect if you ask me. I wonder what he might have done for a man like you to want his head this badly."

Alpha Jax cleared his throat, adjusting his suit and buttoning it up tightly. His discomfort was evident, but he remained composed as he replied, "You're not new to this business, Night Star. You know the rules better than anyone else. Don't break them. Your job is to kill people, not to ask questions. Now, go do what you do best, while I make sure this will be your last job as a member of the Ace of Spades." Leaning in closer, his gaze intense, he added, "Is that clear?"

He was right; these were the rules, and I was trespassing. My job was to find the target and get the job done. With a feeling of defeat settling over me, I bowed my head and pledged my loyalty, saying, "I have served, and I will serve."

"Good, and please when you kill him, make sure its a stab and take a few expensive items if you could, that way it looks more like an armed robbery" Alpha Jax remarked, satisfaction evident in his voice. And with that, he exited the VIP section with his men, leaving me alone with an image of a hunk and twenty million fucking dollars.

Left alone in the room, finally facing my last job, I examined the picture closely. How would I find this guy? How would I get this over with and finally leave the city to start a new life elsewhere, possibly even have a family and pups? The excitement of the possibilities flooded my mind, urging me to get the task done, and get it done now.

In this world of assassinations and murder, you couldn't do everything alone. Everyone needed someone a plug or sidekick to help gather information from the shadows. If I wanted to find this guy, there was only one person to call: Tristan. He was my guy, my most trusted investigator, eyes on the street, cyber expert, hacker—the list goes on and on.

I quickly snapped a photo of the target and sent it to him via W******p, along with a message: "This guy, do you know where I can find him?, "

It didn't take Tristan a minute to respond with a call.

“That’s Armando González,” the voice on the other end disclosed. “He just came into town a few weeks ago. He's currently residing at the continental Hotel, you know, the five-star hotel only one of the big shots can afford.”

"I know the hotel, Tristan," I replied impatiently. Tristan always had a love for the luxurious lifestyle he couldn't afford. "Well the angel of death would be visiting him tonight , you know what to do?"

"Have I ever failed you, Night Star?" he inquired, annoyed by my doubt.

“Well, you better not fail me this time” I ended the call and immediately made my way back to my apartment. I stored the money in my vault, changed my outfit, and headed to the Intercontinental Hotel on my bike.

Arriving, I was stunned by the magnificence of the building standing before me. I allowed my eyes to take in the luxurious edifice just a few feet away. I hoped Armando was here. I couldn't believe this was my last mission. Just one firm thrust of the knife, and I was free to live my life.

As I marveled at the hotel, my phone rang. I checked the caller ID—it was Tristan.

“What is it, Tristan? I’m on a job,” I snapped.

“Calm your titties, wolfess, just called to say everything is set, Goodluck . By the way you forgot my balance,” his tone held no room for chitchat.

“End this call, and you’ll get it,” I replied, ending the call and immediately wiring him his balance. Donning sunglasses, I concealed my natural coffee brown tresses beneath glossy raven black curtains.

Confidence and renewed determination propelled my steps as I made entry into the continental. The picture of Armando was neatly folded in my back pocket.

"Hello, ma'am. Want to make any reservation?" The young, perky woman with a friendly yet professional smile said as soon as she saw me walk across the large foyer.

"I'm here to see a friend." I keenly observed her features, then covertly observed my surroundings. Everyone was busy milling about, doing their own thing. My gaze lingered a bit around the people; maybe my target was here. Somewhere.

"Ma'am, are you listening?" The girl called back my wandering attention.

"Mm-what?" I swept my gaze back to her. Perfect, no one was watching. Not even the guards stationed strategically around the floor.

My hand toyed with my emergency weapon of distraction.

"I said, do you—"

"I'm sorry for this," I quickly muttered, knowing what I was about to do would discomfort the innocent receptionist who just wanted to do her job well and possibly get huge tips. Well, it came with the job.

She blinked in puzzlement. "What did you say, ma'am?"

I pointed to my own neck. "You have something here."

"Where?" She followed the direction of my finger.

"Come closer; let me help you." My smile was disarming and innocent.

She leaned over the counter; I deftly released the trigger of my tranquilizer gun, a short dart piercing her neck. In that same deft manner, I removed the dart and threw it in together with the gun back into my pocket.

"Oh my God! I don't know what's wrong with her. Somebody help!" The look of fear and the tremble in my voice attracted people.

I had done this countless times; acting came with the job.

They all came running towards me. The girl was already limp in my arms.

"What's wrong with her?"

"What happened to her?"

"Oh my God, is she going to be okay?"

"Is she sick?"

"Someone call an ambulance."

Worried voices of guests floated around us.

"Make way, ma'am," a security guy pushed past me to take the girl from my arms.

Now that I had their diverted attention, I took a subtle walk out of there and into the hallway that led to the many rooms in the hotel.

Suite 1102, 11th floor. Tristan had said. I took the elevator, pressing the keypads to my destination. Within minutes, the metal ride dinged open, signaling my arrival.

My boots echoed as I walked quietly along the long hallway, on the lookout for the suite that had 1102 inscribed on its shiny steel door.

1100. 1101. Yes, there it was! 1102.

Automatically wearing my dark killer expression, I put in the override Tristan had sent to me via encrypted message so no one would know. He had discovered how the hotels locked their rooms. It was a keypad with a password.

Each guest lodging would have their own password to the room, and as soon as they left, the password would become null and void, and a new guest could input their desired password.

It was cool but kind of ridiculous. So for a million guests per suite, there would be a million changed passwords for that same room.

Poor room, I felt like it was being abused and overused. I hoped Tristan’s strategy to get into this room would work.

If not, I would—oh, I stared impressively at the keypad as the door clicked open. If I was not leaving this job, I would have asked Tristan to teach me. It was cool.

I slid into the room skillfully, my gun ready to shoot. Alpha Jax had specifically asked that I stab him. The silver dagger was in my poch ,and it was coated in a dangerous poison strong enough to kill within minutes.

There he was. Sleeping. My eyes still darting round the room, my senses on high alert, I did not want to be caught unaware. There could be someone else in the room with him.

But after a quick search of the suite, I finally lowered my gun and tucked it behind. Without wasting more time, I pulled out the knife and took quick strides to the bed.

A sense of—was it unease? No, it was something foreign. It nagged vehemently at the forefront of my mind. And what surprised me more was the agitated prancing of Laia — my wolf.

I shook the strange feeling off and climbed onto the bed where this Armando González slept peacefully.

"I'll love to find out what it feels like being in bed with a man like you, but I guess I'll never know, until then . Rest in peace, stranger," I whispered.

I brought down the knife, going in for the kill. Strong hands clamped mine, causing my heart to fall from its natural position as I stared into coldly amusing eyes. He responded grabbing my arms mid air.

"I'm already resting in peace , why don't you join me ."